As I alluded in my last non-prompt-related post, I recently joined the Church of the Lonely Potato (braise him!).
I was hoping to avoid this, but…I must stop blogging. To follow in the footsteps of the Transcendental Tuber and achieve perfect Loneliness, I must stop writing altogether. Those dedicating their lives to hashbrown hermitude have time for nothing but reclusiveness and root vegetables along the Via Solanum Tuberosum.
This final goodbye, itself, may leave a dark spot on my previously unblemished peel, but though it condemn me to an eternity in the Deep Fryer, I could not leave you without acknowledging our many happy years together. I was thinking about it during my bacon-bit baptism, and I swear – my tears at this farewell could salt an entire bag of Lays.
As I enter the service of the Solitary Spud, I know that it may seem like I’ve bitten off more than I can chew, but this vegetative void shall not be fruitless. When the masher finally descends to escort me into the buttery clouds, I know I will have nothing but au gratinitude for all that the tater tot me.
His eye is upon us.