Saturday afternoon I go sit out at McCarren Park. Ive been writing poetry these days. What?
I look up and glance in the bushes...what's that?
Dude! It's a walking potato!
Hey, another one.
Theres more!
Whoa.
I wonder where they're going...
?
Up close, they're kind of creepy looking.
That one looks like it got its face smashed in.
That one looks like its growing sprouts. Gross.
...and they're coming toward me.
! Hey, beat it. I'm writing poetry?
I'm serious, back off.
Oh, my god. McCarren Park is full of weirdos. Im leaving.
...they're following me...
Now what?
Hey, come on, beat it...
Look, buddy, back off, I'm serious...
Last chance. I'm not going to say it again.
You had your chance, potato-face!
Potato Pudding.
Gosh, was that unnecessarily violent?
Oh well...peace and quiet at last.
And, lunch.
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