POTATO MOON, Part 13 by Shana Jean Hausman

potato_moonAt midnight the next evening, thunder boomed, nearly drowning out a timid knock on the door.

Jakob was sitting in the kitchen and practicing his russet carving skills. Bela’s rejection had shaken him so that he dared not risk another true potato under his untalented blade. Instead he was practicing on marble. It was far easier to carve Bela’s beauteous countenance in the cool stone, but it was the potato that would truly show the lengths he would go to love Bela (until, of course, Woeisme reached a legal age).

But the knock, it was faint, but truly there! Jakob put his carving tools away and went to answer the door.

There stood Bela, soaked to the bone, tears spilling down her cheeks like the raindrops falling down from the sky. In fact, it was only the redness of Bela’s eyes and Jakob’s keen senses that told him she’d been crying at all.

Can We Get a Grip Please? (Just not La Grippe)

According to the CDC, 36,000 people die annually from the flu. This obviously is not a good thing, and we should take precautions against it, but that’s pretty much it. We don’t act every year as if the approach of flu season is going to wipe out half of humanity. We don’t have the VP advising people not to go on airplanes (the travel industry must have LOVED that) and we don’t have news networks throwing up terrifying graphics describing impending disaster because of AHANA (that’s what I call Swine Flu, using a simple substitution code to replace 1 with the letter A because you can’t pronounce A(H1N1).

If we’re going to panic, then we should panic about something important, like that the Mets are looking a lot like a last place team. Priorities, people!

PAD