She came into my pitcher like mashed potatoes
wearing the rime. My eyes glanced up at her lips:
they'd sprouted.
'Poto' was her name, but I already assumed that from the way she fell out of the bag.

The dame was pretty as a dime and I checked my pockets just in case.
"Yes Ma'm?"
Her eyes rolled back like a rolling pin on a 3-legged table. She tossed her dough at me and I was never good at making pizza, but this was one dame I wanted to blend.
"Do your worst," She said.

I looked over at my door, the backwards letters spelled,'rednelB eoJ' It was then I remembered the ice cream from last Thursday. She waltzed in with a frozen coat of strawberries and asked me to go smooth on her. She didn't like it rough, I guess. So I did my best to not over-froth her, but a man can only do so much when a woman's begging with creamed legs. There was something else about that night that I overlooked with my lid.
I looked up at the brown girl, noticed her spots and a pocket watch engraved with 'Fresh by 2007.' I called her on it after a long drag.
"Isn't that Miss Moo's watch?"
"No, I bought it just today."

That's when my socket hit the plug.
"It is her watch. She left it here Thursday after she was creamed. She set it down and told me to keep care of it. It was you last night wasn't it? I knew there was something about 2am. It was you that snuck in and stole the watch, wasn't it?"
"No--" She started to sprout.
"And then you put it in your bag, didn't you?"
"No--" Her coat exploded.
"It was you. You know how I know?"
"How?" Her rime started to slip.
"I know because it's 2008. Potatoes are shipped off within a month after picking. Ice cream isn't thrown away until you want to." Her clothes fell.

'What's with this dame?' I thought.

I took in another drag from the slit in the wall, and cuffed her to the rotting peanut butter from Wednesday.

"Oh yes, they'll come for you."