Tator Trauma
Because of a series of unfortunate dining choices, I now have a tator tot stuck between my stove and cabinet. The gap between the two tapers into a vee as you get closer to the bottom of the space, thus allowing me to achieve maximum tator tot velocity about six inches from the bottom of the floor.
This rogue potato product also rolled about a foot and a half back, and I have nothing skinny enough or long enough to reach back and get that sucker. I tried spatulas, skewers, and even managed to wedge my long-handled duster in there enough for the tator to sink another inch. It’s well and truly stuck.
I am grateful that it’s not fish or cheese or something potentially stinky. It is a tator tot, however, which means there’s no chance of decay. Fifty years from now, when someone finally guts my condo, that stupid little tator will still be there — perfectly preserved and waiting for ketchup. I’m a little put off of tots for now. Think I’ll stick to fries.
