The Potato Ball

Imagine my disappointment when the Mexican Deli informed me that they don’t serve breakfast on Sunday, and after I had traveled two cities over to get there. 

I looked over the hot deli items under the heat lamps and selected a potato ball stuffed with chorizo and a small order of refried beans. I told the cashier that they should make potato balls with cheese stuffed inside and plain potato, no stuffing. She looked at me with scared eyes for a long second before disappearing to the kitchen without ringing up my order. I thought, Maybe they do have some stuffed with cheese. 

She returned with the manager. I know because it read “Manager” on his blue shirt. He said, We made the payment already on Friday as usual. Little Tommy picked it up. 

I said, I was just telling your cashier that you should make potato balls stuffed with cheese and some plain ones too. 

He said, Oh my god. Not my kids. Please. I’ll make another payment tomorrow when the bank’s open. 

I said, You know, because just chorizo stuffing is not much of a choice if you don’t serve breakfast on Sunday. 

I reached for my wallet to pay when his hands started trembling. He motioned to the cashier who understood his nod and filled a bag with potato balls and handed them to me. 

He said, Tomorrow, I promise. Tell Little Tommy it’ll be ready at ten a.m. 

I said, Thanks, and please consider cheese and plain potato balls and then left.

At home I ate all the potato balls in the bag and got sick. I woke up in a hospital bed. First thing I heard was two nurses talking about how this man known as Little Tommy was brought in to the hospital with a cheese potato ball shoved up his ass and a plain potato ball shoved down his throat. At the moment, I knew exactly how Little Tommy felt.

The End