Once upon a time I fell in love with a potato. And the potato fell in love with me back. And i was super happy. I could definitely see a long and happy relationship between me and the potato. The potato could understand me inside and out, it could even finish my sentences for me, like all the cheesy couples do. Like one time I was thinking "Boy, I sure do feel like a..." and he filled in "potato" for me. And I realized that was exactly how I felt. The potato was so smart. I wish all boys could be like that potato was. And I wish all girls could find someone like the potato was for me. But sadly our relationship was not meant to be, even though I could have sworn that it was from the start. One day my father found the potato and decided that he was hungry and put the potato in a pot. When I got home from school, i found my potato in the pot. With a gasp I removed the potato, but it was too late. The potato was already too far gone. That night I cried myself to sleep. The day after that I could not eat, or do anything pretty much. I felt numb. I sat on the couch all day just thinking about my lost potato. The day after that was the same. And the day after that, and the day after that, and the day after that. I could swear that I barely moved from that couch. After several years had past my father saw me on the couch and was like "wow, your like a couch potato!" and then doubled over in laughter because he thought that was the funniest thing ever. And from then on the term "couch potato" was used to people who just sit on the couch and don't accomplish much. Which I find to be slightly offensive. So, the moral of this story is: father's are not very sensitive, and don't fall in love with anything that dies when you boil it in a pot of water.
The end.
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