Potato Memes Novels & Stories

My voice came out low as I was still feeling weak. “Making potatoes with ketchup,” he said, grinning. “I figured out that eating our favorite food might boost your energy,” he said. A faint smile crept up on my face. Potatoes. They made me remember Larry. He couldn't eat those, and because of that, I made sure to stay away from the meal even when it was my favorite. I bet he never found out that I don't eat potatoes because he doesn't like them. “It's done!” He said, as he stirred the mashed potatoes together. That made me snap out of my reverie.

"Someone hotter and less grumpy for me to do this with?" Lily's response was blunt. "Arc's the ugly, deformed waiter you kissed at your father's gala after finding out about your ex's infidelity." Chelsea winced. "Thanks for the reminder." "You needed it," Lily said. "Kevin's stealing the spotlight, and even Larry's Italian charm is overshadowing your drama. Those memes aren't helping. Almost ten memes of you crying that night has surfaced, including one with a thundercloud hovering over your head." Chelsea's anxiety spiked. Being meme-ified meant you were either ridiculously silly or famously notorious. Chelsea knew he'd become a meme for both reasons.

“What is that?” She glanced at him then down on the bowl. “Mashed potatoes.” She looked back at him. “It’s, like, the most common dish of all time. How come you don’t know it?” “Common?” Confusion flitted across his features. “That diarrhea-like feces look nothing like the lobsters, caviars, truffles or veal dishes I frequently partake in.” She shot him an irritated glance. “Just so you know, this diarrhea-like feces just touched your mouth a few minutes ago.”

one boy said quickly, like he did not want the potatoes to feel insulted. “But meat is better,” the other boy added. Vera closed her eyes for a second because he was right. The meat was better. Her body agreed with him so strongly that she almost got angry at the pumpkins for existing. She opened the web and ignored all the notifications exploding across her account. People were still arguing under her video, still screaming about Xen’s statement, still tagging her in things she did not care about, but none of that mattered because she wanted meat and apparently this galaxy had no normal way to buy it.

I muttered, leaning over to take the last potato from his Tupperware and popping it in my mouth. "You know what they say - if one parent says no - ask the other." Tommy chuckled slyly, making me smirk - an idea forming in my mind.

He looks like a trying hard doing that. "I thought pouting is cute?" He blabbing pouting again. "Haha who said that? Idiot." "I read that on the news feed of a famous social media. It says, guys who did that usually gets women's attention." He explained more. "Hahaha and you believe that? Gosh Ace, you are old enough to know that it was a meme or a preference of some woman but not all." "Yeah I know dzuh." He flipped his keys and opened the door of his room.

Even using her mind to till soil and pull weeds no longer left her exhausted or nauseous afterward. A month later, the potato seedlings had grown thick and lush, their leaves bright green and thriving. Poppy stared at them longingly and asked, “Can we eat the leaves?” “No.” Nicole immediately seized the chance to educate Poppy and the dog. “Potato leaves contain solanine. Eat too much, and you’ll get dizzy and throw up. In serious cases, it can even kill you.” Poppy blinked. “What’s solanine?” “Poison. The kind that kills people.”

I didn’t hate my face at first. That came later. It started with a nickname. "Potato Nose." I was thirteen. Seventh grade. Standing at my locker, trying to zip up my backpack when Jason Miller leaned against the locker next to mine, sniffed loudly, and said, “Smells like mashed potatoes in here.” Everyone laughed. I didn’t get it at first. Then I saw the doodle taped to my locker the next day. A lopsided face. Huge eyes. A nose like a bloated tuber. Below it, written in red marker:

heavier. I take another bite of my potato wedge, trying to enjoy my food but I become nervous and restless. The expression on people's faces are going from annoyed to almost alarmed. I send a video of the sudden shift of atmosphere to Yasmeen, saying: "Look, I think something's about to go down! Will I finally be the main character of my own YA, dystopian novel? Hahaha!" I quietly giggle at my own text as I shove another wedge in my mouth. Side note, I love potato anything. Just cook me a potato and I will eat it. You can never go wrong with potato dishes.

Ridge holds up the now empty plate as evidence while I search for a way out of this one. "I'm allergic to potatoes." "Potatoes? Why didn't you tell me?" His face scrunches up, the dark bruised coloring of his cheek faded. "Is it even possible to be allergic to potatoes?" "Okay fine. I hate potatoes, all right?" "You hate potatoes? That's worse." His face turns from shock to disbelief. "Like all potatoes? Even French fries?" I crinkle my nose at the mention of French fries. "They're so mushy."