Once upon a time, in a fertile valley near Ireland, there was a small yet populous potato farm. Every year at this farm, all of the potato’s looked forward to one date- the Harvest. However, this year’s harvest was different, as it took particularly long. It wasn’t until some time between summer and fall that the foliage began to wither and the potatoes were ready to be pulled.

One of the first infant potatoes to be freed from the Earth’s soil was named Tater. Despite Tater being one of the first to be “born,” many elders and peers described him as being grounded. From a young age, Tater expressed happiness from the simple things in life. As other potatoes his age found interest in butter and other condiments, Tater remained the same.

“As long as I have the sun and the dirt, I will have a pleasant life,” He would say.

Tater was simply different from the rest: he had different hobbies and he liked different things. While most potatoes were focused on their taste and a-peel, Tater focused on things that made him happy such as long walks in the morning. He enjoyed the feel of the dew of the grass, the warmth of the rising sun on his skin, and the comfort of the earth’s soil.

“As long as I have the sun and the dirt, I will have a pleasant life,” He would say.

Slowly but surely, Tater began to grow older, and with this age he witnessed the pressured phases of his fellow potatoes. Many of them began to try new appearances: some choosing to slim down and become a “fry,” others slimming even further to become a “chip.” He saw the “baked” trend, the “wedges” phase, even the drastic “mashed” craze. Regardless, Tater always stayed true to himself and remained modest. Tater believed that no matter what physical change you did, it never made the potato a “hot potato.”  Tater was a proud, happy, independent vegetable that found pleasure in the simple things.

“As long as I have the sun and the dirt, I will have a pleasant life,” He would say.

Besides these societal changes, life on the farm was fairly normal. Each potato simply existed and carried out normal functions. However this normality and comfort existed for a short time.

One year, the Harvest didn’t happen. Many speculated that the seeds were simply just late bloomers. However as the days became weeks, and the week’s months, this belief faded. Potato turned on potato, each blaming one another for the unfortunate event. Tater on the other hand, remained calm. Unlike the rest, Tater accepted what was occurring because he understood that although life was starting to look tough, if he had the sun and the dirt he would be happy.

While Tater continued to hold tight to his belief, the others continued with their speculation and blame. It was during this speculation that the horror and truth was revealed. While examining the soil and surrounding plants, Dr. Steven Hash Brown Hawking discovered what would soon be known as The Rotten Plague. One after one potatoes that were once healthy began to rot; each one infected with the common virus. Panic arose; many potatoes screamed that they were too young, that they had yet to make their mark on the world. Tater however, stayed calm and proved to be the only one that did.

The once happy farm became a place of sadness, despair and death. There were potatoes in the streets and potatoes dying in others’ arms. A significant amount fled to neighboring farms leaving those behind to rot. They hoped that in other parts of Ireland they would be given a fresh start, however all they found was the plague and even more death.

Within a few weeks, almost everyone back at the farm was infected- including Tater. The now rotting Tater took a deep breath and laid down on the morning grass. Beneath him he could feel the support and assurance of the dirt; above him he felt the warmth of the sun.

“I’m not afraid,” he told himself as he closed his eyes.

An overwhelming sense of relief, contentment, and peace flooded Tater’s body. He smiled one last time and then he was dead.