Yams do not exist by Garry Thomas Morse

Author:Garry Thomas Morse
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780888016782
Publisher: Turnstone Press
Published: 2020-01-30T19:10:48+00:00

Yella and the Yams

Farinata was, as usual, deep in contemplation about the precarious future of ars longa in the popcorn aisle when it occurred to him that the Osborne Village Safeway was busier than usual. Was it a murder or a parliament or a gaggle of prairie gals who were checking him out to such a degree that he dropped his bag of mountain trail mix and made himself scarce? Something like that. He accepted a few pieces of cheese on sticks before returning to the abandoned trail mix. On the spot, he was handed a predicament in the form of a rose just as the dazzler came into view, with her excellent legs descending into Louis XV heels. The second she caught his eye, she stashed a burger in a box and macaroni accompaniment behind a display pyramid of toilet tissue rolls. With nary a greeting, she accepted the rose and leaned her intriguing head against his right shoulder.

“I’m Yella. Walk me to the fruit and veg?”

“_?”

“Is this rose for me? Aw, thanks.”

Yella happened to be an aspiring actress—actor!—who gave each of her pronouncements an elaborate nasal inflection. This charming quirk is not beyond our powers of description, or even our comprehension, but why bother?—surely you know the type. In any case, her nuanced explanation tickled Farinata to the toes. Apparently, the Safeway in Osborne Village had agreed not to eject or maim participants in a massive Singles Night that invoked a glam game of romantic rollerball that had taken place at some point in the sparkly 1980s. Once his general mirth had subsided, he began to feel a vague moral crisis slinking closer and closer—or was that Yella?—that posed a threat to his vague arrangement with the Mädchen. Could he, in perfectly clear conscience, sidle up to such a phenomenal pair of legs while fondling a pair of mammoth yams? He elected to broach the subject with Yella so that they knew from the starting gun78 how things would roll, but she cut him short.

“Nonsense. They don’t even exist.”

“Excuse me?”

“Yams, silly! Yams do not exist.”

“Then what am I stroking?”

“Good sir, that is a sweet potato. Okay, so maybe yams do exist. But not on this continent, except in very rare cases. Yams are just part of this major marketing ploy. Don’t you see … that’s how they get you. Don’t let them get you!”

“Really? I had no idea.”

“The folks at Yam Fest know the truth but someone got to them. I tried to bring them down from the inside until they canned me to get me out of the way. Now they claim that ‘Sweet Potato Fest’ is too long to put on their posters but I know better.”

The grudgingly handsome pair soon forsook all thought of commerce for the evening. Yella led him along River Avenue, pressing close to ward off what was only very mild minus weather. After she had described the potential threat to the Gas Station Theatre in the form of a combined arts

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