Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Spud

To me, spud is not a small potato. Spud was a white, soft seal, filled with tiny beads that crunched when you hugged him tight. He was no bigger than a small puppy, and he could fly. I'd sit him on top of my ceiling fan and when the motors cranked and the blades spun, he would soar through the air, his small red cape flapping in the wind. He was MY super hero. He would comfort me when I'd had a bad day, and he would 'beat up' all of the bullies, who were in the shape of a small plastic velociraptor.
Spud was not a potato. Spud was my friend.
I lost him when I was ten.

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