Ready for a bedtime story? 😴🛌

One summer night, I glanced out my kitchen window and froze.. There, in my backyard, stood a wild gremlin girl. She was no taller than a garden gnome, with tangled brown hair and blue eyes that gleamed with mischievous delight. She pressed her face against the glass sliding door, her sharp little teeth bared in a grin.

At first, I thought she was just curious, maybe lost. But then she hiked up her shirt, flashing me with a cackle that sounded like a squirrel gone rogue. I yelped, nearly dropping my mug of choccy milk. She pointed at the potato sack on my counter, then back at herself, her eyes wide with expectation.

“A potato?” I muttered, raising an eyebrow. “Really?”

She nodded vigorously, hopping from foot to foot, and flashed me again. This time, I couldn’t help but laugh. “Okay, okay, you little menace. Hold on.”

I grabbed a single raw potato—russet, slightly lumpy, the kind you’d overlook at the store. Opening the door just a crack, I tossed it onto the patio. She pounced on it like a fox on a mouse, clutching it to her chest and sniffing it with reverence. Her eyes sparkled as if I’d handed her a diamond.

“Deal’s a deal,” I said, shaking my head. She winked, tucked the potato under her arm, and somersaulted into the bushes, vanishing with a rustle of leaves. The next morning, I found a tiny crown of woven stale French fries on my doorstep.. her version of a thank you, I guess.

From then on, I kept a potato by the door, just in case she came back. And sometimes, when the moon was full, I’d hear her cackling in the distance, probably flashing some other poor soul for a spud.

The end. 😙 💗