The Devil is in the Potato Salad

When I was a youngster, my imagination compelled me to invent characters. It’ll suffice to introduce Percy, a representative such character. An episode of Doug inspired the genesis of good ole Percival (“Doug’s Big Feat,” in case Nickelodeon’s lawyers are tuned in here). I didn’t take many liberties with the existing character–I preserved the blond eraser top, the rat tail, the trench coat, the camo pants, the gargantuan stature and the leather boots. I know what you’re thinking: that’s too fucking easy. Touche.

Having inferred a spotty biography, I ascribed to him some behaviors that may have warranted my being committed had I not been five years old, or even so–e.g. his preferred pastime, which was to face the junction of two brick buildings in a city, at night, while chanting “Percy, Percy, Percy Percy Perse, Percy Percy Perse,” and so on, to the character-selection melody of Eternal Champions (a Sega Genesis game).

My point: the devil is in the potato salad. If there’s just one absolute truth, that’s it. Meditate on this.

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