Playing the role didn't win him any friends and last week he got very quiet and quite depressed. I thought he might find solace in the garden from whence he came. When I took him there we saw a small red hand reaching out of the dirt.
Digging carefully, we brought this cute little red spud to the surface. She promptly looked at Jabba and announced, "Hi, my name's Patti. What's yours?"
The usually self-assured Jabba was flustered but finally got out, "Jab- aaa...Larry".
They just stared and smiled for the longest time, like Tony and Maria in "West Side Story".
The two new friends then went for a walk.
When they returned Jabba (a/k/a
"Larry") asked me to fire up the hot tub.
The two were inseparable. With so much in common - both lonely, red potatoes with thin withered arms- they fell madly in love.
Jabba and Patti spent hours having quiet talks in their rocking chair.
Last Sunday afternoon they came into the kitchen and asked Francesca, "What cha' cookin'?
Without thinking she answered, "Potato soup".
That... was a game changer.
Their tater faces turned white.
Jabba asked, "People... eat... potatoes? I nodded while making it clear we would never eat them.
Patti Potato shouted, "That is so wrong. I'm outta here!".
She scurried back to the garden from whence she came and Jabba followed.
Back in their element they started to squiggle and wiggle.
Slowly the two began to sink into the ground.
I remember seeing their smiles disappear as the last bits of dirt covered them up.
We haven't heard from them since.
I think we can assume that they're out in the garden, under six inches of soil, where Jabba and Patti Potato are living happily ever after.