Can You Help Me with Potatoes?

There once was a young man who worked in a field, growing potatoes. For years, he grew in reputation as a kind and generous man, offering alms for the poor and even allowing weary travelers to rest in his modest estate.

One day, John, as the young man was called, discovered that his yield of potatoes would not be fit for the upcoming year, and that he and his family might go hungry. First of all, he went to his neighbor, George for advice.

"I do not know what you shall do," said George. "All I know is the mending of wheels."

"Well perhaps you could tell me of someone who does know?" asked John

"Um...I don't think so," said George.

John walked into the town and asked the first man whom he met whether he knew where to go for help. The man replied, "Oh, sure, I've got a friend Paul who can help you out. In fact, I'm on my way to drop off the paper at his house, and you can follow me."

John followed the man, excited at the prospect of seeing Paul. They approached the house, and John asked Paul whether he knew what to do about his potatoes. "What to do with your potatoes? I don't know," said Paul. "Perhaps you could try asking the mayor."

John quickly found the mayor's office and was allowed to speak. "What do you need?" asked the mayor.

"Oh, I just need help with my potatoes. It looks as though I won't be able to make this year's yield, and I just don't know what I'm going to do."

"Well," said the mayor, "I do have a number of advisors whom you could ask. Try the Vizier of Agriculture."

John confronted the Vizier of Agriculture and asked him, "Will you please help me with my field situation?"

"How am I supposed to help you?" asked the Vizier.

"I was told you are the Vizier of Agriculture. The mayor sent me."

"The what of agriculture?"

"The vizier."

"Oh, certainly not," said the vizier. "I am not familiar with the word. That could not be my title."

John returned to the mayor to ask of this Vizier of Agriculture. "Well," said the mayor, "If the Vizier of Agriculture is stumped, then perhaps you may ask the Vizier of Language."

Soon, John was at the door of the Vizier of Language. "Do you know," asked John, "whether it is appropriate to use the term vizier to describe your office? The Vizier of Agriculture didn't like it when I called him 'vizier'"

"Indeed it is a strange word," said the language vizier

"So is it incorrect?"

"I should think so," said the language vizier

"Then what are you to be called, if not the vizier of language?" John asked.

"You may call me the officer of language. As for the 'vizier' of agriculture, as you have so callously labeled him, he may be referred to as the Supreme Commander of Husbandry."

At this news, John returned to the office of the Supreme Commander of Husbandry to inform him of his new title. "Oh," said the Supreme Commander of Husbandry, "how delightful! My wife will never believe it."

"What do you mean?" Asked John

"Well, she's been fussing about rights and being treated as an equal. Can you believe that? Ugh, it's just too much to deal with after a hard day of working the fields, having to beat that woman until the screaming stops. Now that I'm officially the Supreme Commander of Husbandry, she might finally learn some respect."

"But husbandry hasn't to do with marriage, and besides, that is no way to treat a woman, nor any free human person."

"Ah-ah-ah," interjected the Supreme Commander of Husbandry "It is no longer within my authority. I am now the Supreme Commander of Husbandry, and as such, I have a duty to exploit my wife as rapaciously as I exploit my wonderful land."

John was taken aback by the Supreme Commander of Husbandry's remarks regarding his poor wife. For this reason, John decided that he would try to intervene and save the woman from her terrible husband. His first stop was the Vizier of Ethics.

"Who dares disturb my slumber?" The Vizier of Ethics demanded.

"You were not sleeping," said John.

"Clever, are we?" said the Vizier of Ethics, sarcastically. "Well perhaps you may answer me this: have you been doing any drinking?"

"No," said John, "and what does this have to do with my current business?"

"Your current business? What? You never told me why you are here. I do not know your business, good sir."

"Then perhaps we should have introductions?" John asked.

"I refuse," said the Vizier of Ethics

"On what grounds?"

"On the grounds that you must come and try some of my wife's pie. It's absolutely delicious!"

"Oh no," said John, "I don't think I have time."

"Oh dear," the Vizier of Ethics said, laughing, "I was only joking, of course. But seriously, you must choose one of these two doors. In one rests your sedated wife, and in the other sits a tremendous pile of gold that will make you wealthy beyond your wildest dreams. Once you choose, however, the contents of the other room will pour into my furnace."

"How is it that you have my wife? I have no wife," said John

"Oh, very sorry, I meant your children. You know, your 'family'"

"I don't have any family," said John.

"But it was said that if you didn't fix your potato crop, you and your family might go hungry," explained the Vizier of Ethics.

"An editorial mistake, obviously."

"Enough of this! Make your choice. Door one or two."

"I thought they were rooms A or B," John remarked.

"What's passed is past."

"You mean 'what's past is past'"

"Oh, sorry. I guess you're right. Anyway, make your choice," the Vizier of Ethics commanded.
"I don't really see the need, now that I think of it."

"Good, good. You've won."

"Alright," continued John, "so about the Supreme Commander of Husbandry. He's planning on beating his wife and only because of the title he just now received."

"What is he now called?" Asked the Vizier of Ethics.

"He now goes by the title 'Supreme Commander of Husbandry'," said John.

"Ach, you already said that. Well I think perhaps you should get to the poor woman before the Supreme Commander of Husbandry does."

"Good plan, Vizier," said John

"You shall spirit her away, and in her state of confusion, you may have her."

"Have her? What do you mean, Vizier?"

"You know...you may know her. And then you can bring her here so I can know her too."

"That doesn't sound very ethical," said John

"Oh, pish-posh, I'm the Vizier of Ethics, and I know my business quite well. How can you argue that a beating from the Supreme Commander of Husbandry would be better a fate than a good shagging with the two of us, who are quite well endowed?"

"I take offense to that, good sir," replied John, "I do not believe that you are well-endowed at all."

"Of course I'm well endowed," said the Vizier of Ethics, "How else would I have become the Vizier of Ethics?"

"Pshaw! Well, let me see," said John. The Vizier of Ethics dropped his pants, and John proceeded to drop his own pants as well. "See, I'm bigger than you are."

"That's not fair," said the Vizier of Ethics, "I'm still flaccid. And it's cold. And I'm nervous. This doesn't count. It's not fair. I hate you. Go away."

John left the Vizier of Ethics, but he was still unsure of what to do about the Supreme Commander of Husbandry's wife, Elizabeth. Determined to save the woman's life, John went to the house of the Supreme Commander of Husbandry to summon Elizabeth. The portress greeted John.

"What do you want?" The portress asked
"I came to see Elizabeth," John said proudly.

"You may see my mistress, Goodwife Elizabeth, but first you must get through me," said the portress.

"Very well, then. What do you ask of me, woman?"

"Just follow me," said the portress. John followed the portress upstairs to a spacious bedroom with a small window in the far corner. "Mount the bed, good sir."

"Excuse me?" John inquired.

"On the bed. Now," the portress demanded. John complied.

"What is this for?" John asked

"Never you mind, sir. Now close your eyes."

"And if I refuse?"

"Help! Help!" The portress cried "This man is trying to force himself on me! Help!"

"Stop," pleaded John, "I'll close my eyes, just please stop."

"Now that's better," said the portress.

John closed his eyes and then felt that a blindfold had been tied around his eyes. A rumbling of footsteps could be heard. "What is going-" John started to ask, but was cut off by a bizarre groping. At first his left foot was being grabbed, but then he realized that there were at least four people holding him, two hands for each of his limbs. John was helpless to stop the four strong sets of arms from tying his ankles and wrists to the four corners of the bed.

"Remove the blindfold," ordered the portress.

To be continued...