🥔 Small Potatoes

Spudwig Wright was a potato, and not a particularly attractive one at that. Rumour had it that there was more than a bit of rutabaga on his father’s side of the family. And even if that wasn’t actually true, he certainly had the looks, which were anything but pretty.As a consequence, he had been bullied throughout his young life in the root cellar. The others regularly made fun of him and called him turnip-head, yam-face, and much worse things.“Spuddy, my old buddy, you’re too ugly even for mashed potatoes!” Potatrick, his only friend – if you could call him that – opined at every opportunity. And the sad thing was that Spudwick had to agree. He didn’t look like the other potatoes in the cellar. He was a misshapen and deformed spud without any prospects. In a world of russets, he was a root.As a consequence, he spent much of his time alone, sitting quietly in an out of the way corner of the root cellar, hiding in the shadows to avoid drawing unnecessary attention to himself. He liked…