Don't you look incredibly yummy...
My crazy little potato, who grew oddly against the odds in the compost heap, pines for a name. Too embarrassed to leave home without a moniker, he/she/it got acquainted with the household today. Some meetings went better than others.
The little spud paused to offer an opinion on the newest member of the clan: my second manuscript of poetry. The potato-ette thinks it needs more work. I almost made hash of the stupid twit.
The poor thing wonders if it could grow up to become this:
Let's name the small fry today. Here are the choices. Please vote for one.
Animus, sings Spirited Dianne
Spud! growls Titus the Worthy Canine
Spudnik, pronounces Lorenzo the Worthy
Spudkins, hollers Glenn not of Luckenbach
Tater or Scallop, drawls Brian the Blog Wonder
Tuber or not tuber, ponders Technobabe Hamlet (Tutu for short)
Leslie, chirps Magpie, neutral for he/she/it
Hope, whispers Marion, for it grew against the odds
Abbyration, dares Monkey Man
Masher, cries Jacob, who says it's a dog
Chip, opines Syd from his sailboat
Yukon Cornelius, the Venturing Mountain Potato, says Great Scott
Albert, roars Totalfeckineejit
Dinner, chimes in Carrie Burtt
And Rule #62 is still in force: Thou shalt not take thyself too seriously.