My friends thought the potato was weird.

I called it Sam.

Sam was a potato, probably was potato all of his life, and Sam was my
friend.

I kept Sam with me in my backpack all through school. But, when I say
all through school I mean like, you know, my entire school day for about
3 weeks until Sam started getting sick. Sam started turning colors and
getting soft and leaking juices and... I didn't know what to do with
Sam.

I knew that down the street from our house there was a creepy house
that supposedly had a... wizard or magician or ceremonial something or
other... and, I took my potato over there wondering if there is some
sort of magic spell I could get to make my potato healthy again. But,
nobody was home and didn't look like anybody had been home for a while.

I found a book though.

It had strange words in it and seemed to be handwritten by 1 or 3
people. I don't know. The handwriting changed over time. I don't know if
it was like one person who wrote the whole thing or there were different
people because the handwriting significantly changed with these breaking
points. So like, around about a third of the way through then totally
different handwriting showed up, and then totally different handwriting
again.

Anyway, there was a spell about bringing back... Well, there was a spell
about bringing back the dead, but I didn't do that one, because, you
know, my potato wasn't dead. It was just sick. I just needed to heal
Sam, not like raise him from the dead like some sort of potato zombie.
That's crazy pants.

So, I looked at healing spells, and there was one where I could drain
the life out of one thing to make another live longer. And... I probably
should have been concerned, or cautious. But, there was a kid in school
who always used to make fun of Sam. And according to the spell, I didn't
need anything like super weird, I just needed some of his spit. And,
he… He threw spitballs at me all the time, so that seemed pretty
straightforward to get.

And... well, the spell worked, and Sam, my potato, is totally healthy.
Healthier than I’ve ever seen a potato in my life. Healthy enough
where what used to be little potatoes spots grew little nubbins for legs
and stuff, and Sam actually talks to me in human language now.

It's a little bit disturbing, but that bully didn't come to school
today. I've heard that he's taking ill. Some sort of strange rot. The
CDC's gotten involved. I've seen the tents up all over this house.
They’re looking for the source. Apparently it spread.

I didn't know it could spread. I just want to make potato to get better.

But the CDC's pretty smart. Maybe they'll heal him, but at least, you
know, they’ll keep the rest of the neighborhood from getting infected.

All I know is my potato one smart spud. And, we've been having some
really great times. He's been helping me with my homework. He’s been
drawing and making paintings. And, he wants to apply for college, but I
still think that's a silly thing. He is a kind of potato.

But, he just gets so mad at me at times. Makes me a little scared.
reminds me of that bully sometimes, to be honest.

But, that can't be right. I just needed his life essence. It’s not
like I used his personality. Certainly not like a soul or something, but
it’s so weird.

Hey Sam, how are you doing?

What? Is that a knife?