The little Spud

     It's July, it's been 10 weeks since I've been planted. I'm ready, I can feel it. I'm about to be pulled up out of the soil and shipped off. I want to be baked, with sour cream, chives, and butter all over. There's this tugging; I'm getting pulled out! They brush off the dirt covering me, then they toss me into a bin full of other potatoes. I converse with the others, some want to be fries, others want to be mashed, some share my dream to be baked. We're all taken to this strange place.
     They push the bin into a huge building and start putting us on this moving table. They just grab us in handfuls and toss us on the shaking table. A hand reaches in and grabs me, but just before I'm on the table I fall. This can't be happening to me, I can't be forgotten so early. My dreams are slowly melting away. I hit the floor with a thud, no one notices. I wait laying there hoping someone will find me, so I can achieve my dreams. Finally some on sees I have fallen, they pick me up and toss me on the table.
The shaking table takes us to the place where we will get packaged and sent to the store. After getting cleaned and inspected for anything gross or potentially harmful. I am packaged with a bunch of other potatoes. I decided to try and get to know the others, as we will be very close to one another until we get bought at the store. I start to try and make conversation but everyone is lost in their own world, probably daydreaming about what they will become. I stop trying to talk and think about how long I'll be on the shelf and if my dream to be baked will come true.
     It takes a few days to move from Idaho to Minnesota; on the second day I start to think back to what brought me here. I remember  the drought that I lost many of my friends, that was tough, I was very thirsty I didn't know if I would make it. I think about when I fell off the table. All the second day I think about some of the hardships I've already been through. The other potatoes don't like me, they say I have my hopes set to high. Most potatoes don't get to become what they want, but I have hope my dream will come true. 
     I wait day in and day out, on the shelf. Asking if every person that goes by is the one. The others and I are feeling like we will go bad soon. We don't know what to do.
     "Hey sir? Do you know where you guys put the potatoes?" I hear a lady ask.
     "Yes, they are in the next aisle over ma'am."
     "Oh good, I need some to make potato salad. Thank you."
     Oh no, I don't want to be potato salad. I see the lady walk into the aisle, we are the only bag of potatoes left. She picks us up and takes us home. She takes many of the others out, but not me. I'm kind of happy, maybe my dream will still come true. Days passed, I haven't seen the lady since she first bought us. I hear a noise, maybe it's her, maybe its my time.  She takes the whole bag out and washes us. There's tin foil, I'm going to be baked! she separates us on two different piles. There's still a chance I'm going to be baked-oh I'm so happy my dream is coming true. Wait a second, she's peeling me, you don't peel baked potatoes.      THE END!