Willard 1989-1991

Willard's cousin Gary, yesterday

When I was in at college, my friends and I took up residence in a house for two scholastic years.  Damage done was such that, even above the $1000 per man deposit (there were five on the lease, plus various lodgers lying about), we each owed an additional 800 dollars above that.  This was in 1991 dollars, so that would be upwards of $35,000 a man in today's post-Desperate Housewives funny money.

One guy's mom, imagining her son would be a healthy collegiate bachelor, bought him a sack of potatoes with his other move-in supplies in September of 1989. That bag stayed under the sink until someone noticed it in the waning weeks of the spring 1991 semester.

The bag, creepily trailing eyes more than a foot long, was dragged out and placed in the center of the floor in the living room in front to the never-turned-off TV and named Willard.

"Does Willard need anything?"

"What's that?!" [appalled]
"Huh? Oh, that's Willard!"

"I swear when I was still up at 3 am I saw Willard move."

Matter never disappears, it just becomes something else.  I failed whatever science class I heard that in, probably.

I just hope that Willard - be he 50 feet down in the landfill on 27 or whether he is now part of some distant star - is happy at last.