Pulling away from the green leafy undergrowth that held him steadfast, Chou scoured the familiar surroundings, which day by day, eventually grew monotonous.  The dark, cold, damp and musty ground was littered with thousands of tubers just like him, growing, wondering where their fate would lead them to.  Life was full of wonders for Chou, for Chou was a potato, grown to be consumed and satisfy the human stomach.  However, Chou was ignorant about what life held in store for him…

 

“The farmer only picks the largest and smoothest one, so eat your fertilizer!” his mother had told him when he was but a young tuber, “so that you get picked”.  Chou had always obeyed his mother without question, yet this question aroused curiosity, for she never elaborated on what ‘picked’ meant.

 

Day by day, Chou grew larger and rounder as his fertilizer intake increased.  This intake of fertilizer in turn, was directly proportional to the rate of growth of his body.  Soon, Chou was ready to be ‘picked’.  His mother had long decomposed, as she had never been picked.  Her shape had been too curvaceous and she had sprouted too many eyes, as back then it had been in season to sprout eyes.  Chou could fondly remember how his mother looked.  However, Chou would not make the same mistake his mother made and be as vain as she.  At times he was jealous of his hybrid cousins who had nice purple or white complexions and were very round in shape.  In fact, he had overheard that these tuber cousins of his had moved onto model for catalogues such as Woolworths and Coles from gossiping farmers above.  Yet, this did not dishearten Chou, as he was determined to make the most of everything.  So he decided that it was time.  He didn’t want to sprout.  He wanted to retain his youthful appearance and explore the outside world. 

 

“What is out there, up above the soil?” he had always wondered.  This particular question had never been answered, as once a tuber rises up to the surface, it was never seen again.

 

Soon, it was time for Chou to enter the next phase in his life.  Mustering up all the energy stored in his starch cells, Chou used his roots as a propeller to help him make his way to the surface. 

“Arghhhh!  This is harder than I thought!” panted Chou, simultaneously producing energy through aerobic respiration.  “I can do it!  I’m going to make it!” he said, trying to encourage himself.  But with each push, each extensive exertion he made, he felt more tired. 

 

“OWWWW!” he cried, “SOMEONE’S PULLING MY HAIR!”  However, it was in actual fact, a farmer pulling Chou out.   It just so happened to be Chou’s lucky day, as there had been a high demand for potatoes since the drought had started. 

 

Never had Chou felt so aggravated.  First the farmer pulled him by his hair, then he was attacked with a wooden device that held thistle like strands, and then dropped into a bucket of other tubers.  His optimistic mood had been replaced with mental doubt and melancholic nostalgia.  Why had he ever wanted to leave the security of the soil?  Was it all worth it?  Chou could not do anything now, for there was no turning back.

 

Suddenly, he felt the bucket moving.  He was flung up and down, bumping into many other spuds in the process, and therefore generating bruises and frustration between the spuds themselves.  Suddenly, they were all plunged into darkness.  Cold, silent, eerie darkness.  Every spud stayed still.  Perhaps death was awaiting them.

 

“I’M TOO YOUNG TO DIE!” exclaimed Chou, breaking the silence!  Abruptly, he was plunged into a large tub full of water, and violently scrubbed by a machine.  Numerous thoughts soared in Chou’s head, at a million miles a minute.  Chou wanted to cry.  He knew no spud there, and was going through something he knew nothing about.  All these emotions flying in and out of his brain unexpectedly brought forth a flashback. 

 

“Chou, I want you to be like your father.  I want you to be known as a chip off the old block!” his mother had said to him while he was younger “– be like your father!”  Chou’s father had been ‘picked’ a long while back as he was the epitome of a perfect potato, previously holding the title of “Super Stud Spud” within the underground. 

 

“ARGHHHHHH!” screamed Chou as he let out a blood curdling cry.  “The machines are skinning me alive!” screamed Chou.  The demonic machine kept at its work, ignorant to the screams Chou was belting out.  Little did Chou know, the pain was yet to come when he was placed on a chopping board, ready to be sliced into thin julienne slices of potato, ready to be deep fried and consumed.

 

Through the chipping device Chou went, experiencing agony, pain beyond recognition as he was chipped and chopped.  Self preservation was no longer an issue; there was no choice between life and death.  There was simply death.

 

“How many times must I die” agonized Chou, as he was plunged into a deep fryer.  Never before had he felt so saturated, so dehydrated.  The oil was sucking the water out of him, the essential water that was to help him live.  Slowly, Chou lost consciousness, as the oil acted as a tranquilizer…

 

When Chou woke up, he was on a drying rack, with fans above his head.  He could feel the oil slowing draining from his system.  He felt a soft breeze on him, and felt small particles sticking on him through the oily residue enclosing his body.

 

“Don’t resist it, there’s nothing you can do now.  All you can wait for now is to be packaged and consumed.  You aren’t a potato anymore, you are a chip.” said the chip next to Chou.  Chou tried to think of something to say, but before he could, he was poured into a shiny packet.  However, Chou caught a glimpse of the potato on the shiny packet.  It was his father –  he could recognize him anywhere!  Suddenly, the packet was sealed shut and the darkness overwhelmed him.  Oily tears ran down his crinkled body, as he suddenly came to the realization that he was no longer Chou the potato.  He was now Chou the Chip, a chip off the old block, ready to be chowed down…

to people i dont know and leave comments - GET THE FUCK OUTTA MY LJ.

now that that's off my chest, school sucks and st dom sucks and i cant wait til i get my ass outta there.

8 more months to go, let's stick it out.

and get my ass outta this shithole.

l