I am constipated, I shit you not. I knew it. I knew it. It was true. The prophecy is fulfilled. I was pregnant. Pregnant with my potato child.
"Pregnant? AW HELL NAW" replied Glen
"It's true, my dear Glenny-poo. You're going to be a papa."
"I'll be papapapoppin' it. But there's one problem... I though I'm your daddy..." Glen said sorrowfully.
"I'm sorry Glen, but now I must share you, and you will not only be my daddy, but our tiny child's daddy as well"
"BUT I DON'T WANNA BE A DADDY OF TWO. YOU'RE MY ONLY CHILD, BIANCA, AND I LOVE YEW"
"It's your potato child!" I screamed at him.
"NOW I CAN MAKE TATER FRITTERS AND TOTS!" Glen seemed to be so proud.
"Yeah!" A sick feeling came over me. I ran to the toilet and I knew it was coming. I was about to take the biggest, most glorifying shit of my life. It ran out of me life a river. There was no plop. Glen caught my child for me.
"It's beautiful." He stated. "Now to clean the dirt off of him, and we can peel it, and roast it. Turn it into Tots and Fritters, and they'll be complete." He laughed really hard. I wrapped my potato child in towels to keep it warm.
"We'll just clean the dirt off it." I began. "You ain't eating my baby child, o' mine. Hooooweeee no you ain't Glenny cakes."
"Wow. So now I am a baked cake? Is that all I am to ya?"
"Whats wrong with cake?" I helplessly asked him.
"It ain't sugar, spice, and everything nice. I like me some apple cobbler. Ain't nutting you can doozy 'bout that, sugarcakes."
"You called me cake!" Glen laughed until his socks peeled themselves off his big ass troll feet, and ran to the nearest waste disposal, so they could be free elves. And free they were.
