A New Time, a New Place

by

Bernie sat in a room filled with her favorite food, sweet potatoes.  She liked them any way she could get them.  She had wished for this bounty, and the wish had come true.  She got her sweet potato wish.  She never had believed in magic, and there was nothing that made this wish different than any other wishes she’d made in the past that had gone unanswered: no magic dust, no flash of lightning, no Zoltar fortune-telling machine on a deserted boardwalk. She just wished for sweet potatoes one morning in her bedroom, and lo and behold they appeared.

“Holy mama jama,” she exclaimed. “Gold rush!” (This was kind of a play on words, since a Goldrush is a variety of sweet potato.)

She couldn’t wait to dig in. She grabbed a delicious-looking tuber and took a bite.

“Shit!” she realized. “These motherfuckers are yams!”

Bernie hated yams. To her, yams were sweet potato posers. Sweeter and moister, the yam is not even distantly related to the sweet potato. Who did this wish-giver think he was! Didn’t this asshole know that yams are from the Dioscoreaceae family and not the Convolvulacea? WTF!!! AMATEUR!!! The genie or whatever the hell might as well have sent her a room full of dirty grass.

Bernie destroyed all of the yams in a rage and vowed to never wish again.

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One Response to “A New Time, a New Place”

  1. Brit Forshanes Says:

    The booger king is going to start serving sweet potato fries with their bacon sundae!

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