Potato Puns Romane & Geschichten

Something she had protected, saved, and carried in her storage like a stupid little dream she refused to throw away even after Earth died around her. Then she started laughing. She grabbed a few baskets from her storage space and started collecting, moving from plant to plant while the babies pulsed with excitement inside her. Every bush gave more than it should have. Potatoes kept tumbling out, each one feeling more impossible than the last. The ten pieces she had planted gave her four hundred and eighty potatoes. “Four hundred and eighty,” Vera whispered, then laughed again because the number sounded insane. “Babies, we are rich. We are potato rich.”

"Yeah. I've wanted this for so long I kind of forgot what it feels like to actually have it." His arms tighten around me. "Well get used to it. Because I'm not going anywhere." The weight of March sits in the corner of my mind, but I push it away. Not today. Breakfast is surprisingly edible. Julian makes a big show of complimenting my "chef skills" even though it's literally just scrambled eggs and toast. "Truly, you've outdone yourself," he says in a fake fancy French-like voice. "The eggs are perfectly mediocre." "Shut up and eat."

I let out a deep breath He continued playing with my cheeks. “Aren’t you a cute potato?” “Blake!” I shoved his hand away. “How do you even think of things like that?” He leaned back laughing so hard his shoulders shook. “But you are cute.” “Yes, but of all things… a potato? Really?” I was trying so hard not to laugh. “What’s wrong with potatoes?” he asked between laughs. “You sure love making jokes about me, huh?” I pointed at him. “Don’t worry. Enjoy today. I’ll get you back another day.”

"See, I'm never wrong. Not even five minutes in the library and you're already on their blacklist." "I think what you meant was that I attract attention wherever I go," he wiggles his eyebrows, "being this handsome shouldn't be a crime." "Has anyone ever told you how narcissistic you are?" "Haters are going to hate, potatoes are going to potate." "Potate?" I slowly shake my head, "I don't think I've ever heard of that word before. Would you like to explain to me how potatoes potate?" He side-eyes me. "It's a saying. Plus, I couldn't think of a word that rhymes with potato."

I felt satisfied putting a smile on his face as he darted off to the kitchen to make the dishes. "This is out best dish, apple stew and handmade sausage rolls" The man announced as he placed it on the table. "Out worst dish is scorched eggs and a beautiful potato salad, the wrong way about this dish is that most times Customers complain about the potato, it's over cooked, undercooked and sometimes barely cooked, we haven't found the way to balance it up." I loved everything about the apple stew and the sausage was perfectly made, but the potato were overcooked making it hard for someone to give a good comment on that dish.

“You sure? They’re terrible.” “Worse than your attempts at washing dishes?” he teases. I gasp, mock offended. “That was one time. And you said you were gonna drop it.” “One very memorable time.” I smirk. “Ready?” He nods. “Okay. Why don't eggs tell each other secrets?” “Why?” “Because they might crack.” A short laugh escapes him. “That one’s bad.” “Wait, I’ve got more. What do you call a can opener that doesn’t work?”

And I hate it. “It smells amazing,” Carrot’s voice breaks through my reverie. She sits cross-legged on the floor near me, rocking slightly as she sniffs the air with a theatrical sigh. A smile touches my lips but it does not last. Still, Carrot beams anyway, satisfied with even that. My father leans over the pot, squinting. “Potatoes go in last,” he remakrs. “If you put them in too early, they get mushy.” Gimli glances at him sideways. “You say that every time. They still get mushy every time.”

If it's that good what the hell am I supposed to do? " what's so funny you dickhead?" I asked in an irritated tone but that only made him laugh even harder. I still don't get the fucking joke so sue me if I don't understand why he's laughing at me. I ignored him and started eating the French fry chicken that was there as well. Along with French fries and mashed potatoes. But there was a twist with this mash potato. They also added sweet potatoes with the Irish potatoes and lots of cheese. I was in heaven. I zoned out completely as I devoured the food greedily. I wasn't lying when I said that I ate before, but damn this was too much to pass up on.

“You know, Ruby, we learned a joke yesterday. Want to hear it?” I nod eagerly, intrigued by the joke that has captured their attention. “Alright,” Ethan begins, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Why don’t grumpy people like corn on the cob?” Playing along, I pretend to ponder the question. “Hmm, I’m not sure. Why don’t they?” “Because they think it’s ‘a-maize-ing’ that anyone could be happy!” Ethan bursts into laughter, and soon, the infectious giggles spread throughout the room.

I picked up the potato, held it like it had personally offended me, and tried again. " Oh, my God!! Vihan, you don't operate on the poor potato; please don't hold it as if you are going to open it and perform heart surgery on the potato. " Roohi said and everyone burst out laughing. Ha ha ha! Very funny!! I tried again, and this time, I managed to get the peeler moving. Slowly. Very slowly. "You might finish that potato by next year," she teased. "Patience, my love," I said smoothly.