by G.M. Hakim
Of all the elitist perfection that rankles this once-modest world, the potato stands out as icon of nature's intention. Pock-marked, dusty, and with lumps that would make fitness junkies cringe, the potato stands alone amidst a sea of suburban perfection. Whereas we strive for the plump, round tomato, the smooth, jumbo bell pepper, and the bouncy, dewdropped head of lettuce, we pick up even the ugliest of potatoes and toss them eagerly into our thin plastic bags. The potato doesn't need growth hormones, doesn't shrivel, and doesn't need to look pretty. In fact, potatoes always wear a layer of brown grime until we wash them at home. Of course, they are always removed from the perfect, storybook vegetables in the produce aisle, sitting instead with the dry, flaky onions, but they stand as an icon of the true American dream: being famous and popular while always remaining true to yourself.
G.M. Hakim is a middle school English, Journalism, and Drama teacher who is starting to find time to write again. Inspired by Six Sentences, he started two blogs in 2008: Five Word Monologues and If A, Then B.