Potatoes

Disclaimer: Rincewind and his inappropriate potato fixation belong to Terry Pratchett and Archie belongs to Meridian and this warped little pairing came out of the mind of Random Flatmate, so the management accepts no responsibility for any resultant loss of sanity.

Another day, another prison cell. Rincewind was familiar with the type: completely lacking in any convenient trapdoors, sliding panels or any other means of escape that would drop into the lap of a hero. He sighed. The time would be short, given that someone would probably want to hurt him in the near future. Given the look of his fellow occupant this would probably be quite soon. Rincewind was unused to coming across people who looked worse than he did, so he asked the obvious question.

"Excuse me?"

No response, but the man now looked at him.

"But...are you a zombie? Not to be personal or anything, I'm a real supporter of dead rights and everything..."

The man was now clearly convinced that Rincewind was mad.

"No."

"My name's Rincewind. But people tend to call me 'Don't let him get away!'"

"Archie."

Rincewind, unconvinced that he was not dealing with a zombie - it was possible that he was in denial of being dead of course - changed the topic of conversation. "Any chance of escaping?"

"None."

"Thought not, I've been in a lot of prisons and this is definitely the non-escapable type."

"Uhuh."

Rincewind sighed. Conversation seemed to be too much to ask for.

"Nice view."

The man seemed confused.

"What view?"

Ah. Two words. Progress.

"From the window. The Sky. Its blue."

The man closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep.

*****

They were let out into the yard the next day and sat in the shade. It was too hot to do anything else.

"Mind you, for heat you really want to be on Fourecks. Baked dry."

No response.

"Look, we're trapped here until someone thinks of doing some thing terrible to us. Might as well, you know, talk."

Silence.

"I can hear the sea."

"I used to be a sailor. The Indy's probably somewhere out there now." A slight smile: "I wish I was back there."

Rincewind shuddered. "Sounds dangerous. Freedom's overrated. Give me boredom and incarceration every day."

"I suppose it depends who you are incarcerated with." A dreamy tone of voice that made Rincewind suddenly think of potatoes. There was even the hint of a smile.

"Can I have them mashed please?"

"What?"

"Um, I meant, who were you thinking of?"

Archie blushed. "No one in particular."

A pleasant blush, which ruled out his being a zombie. The thought of potatoes came unbidden into Rincewind's mind again. Archie looked up and realised he was being stared at. He seemed a little tongue tied, but rallied. "What does it say on your hat?"

"Job description. Runs away would be a better one."

Archie sat up to squint at it, letting his shirt fall open. //Mashed with extra butter// thought Rincewind.

"What exactly is a Wzzr?"

"It should say Wizard."

Archie looked incredulous. "Why don't you just magic us out of here then?" He said sarcastically.

Rincewind sighed. "I can't do magic. Just can't."

"You are totally insane aren't you?"

"If I was insane I'm sure I could come up with something better than being a wizard who could do no magic."

Archie smiled again. //potato cakes// thought Rincewind.

Archie looked concerned. "Are you alright? You seem to have gone an unusual colour."

"Fine, just the heat."

Rincewind was worried. This was definitely an inappropriate moment for potatoes; so why couldn't he banish them from his mind?

*****

The air cooled as it became dusk. They were given a large pail of water to wash in after the heat of the day. Archie stripped his shirt off and knelt beside the bucket, and began to sponge himself down.

//potatoespotatoespotatoespotatoespotatoesaaaarrrrrrrgh//

Archie looked up. "Are you alright, sir? You seem ill again."

Rincewind just about managed to say "erk".

Archie looked genuinely concerned and sat by him on the bed.

"What ails you?"

"Potatoes..." More of an incoherent moan than a word.

Archie put his finger under Rincewind's chin and looked at him, and then smiled.

"Potatoes? Some kind of code, sir?"

"Mashed please." Except his throat seemed to have dried out.

"Perhaps I could give you something else to think about?" Rincewind nodded very urgently, still lacking the power of speech. Archie drew closer and said "Perhaps you can show me how to make prison more bearable - but I think I can give the boredom a miss."

Rincewind managed "I like boredom. It lasts."

Archie was inches from his face and said "Perhaps you have had all the wrong kind of interesting things in your life so far."

//potatoes potatoes potatoes ohgodohgodohgod potatoes potatoes potatoes mashed, fried boiled potatoes potatoes potatoes//

*****

The grey, dull repetitive prison diet consisted almost in its entirely of potatoes. Rincewind lay back on the overcrowded bunk and realised that someone was about to do something horrible to him. Wonderful things only happened to him before truly, truly terrible ones.