One Potato, Two Potato, Three Potato Four

by Jeff Baker

“Alright, Mister Margolis,” the Repair Tech in the green jumpsuit said looking at his clipboard. “It says here you are the registered owner of an A709 Emolurator with a Dimensional Sub-Routine, model K65, correct?”

Margolis sat in his easy chair looking nervously around him and nodded.

“Correct.” Margolis said.

“According to your call the problem is not that the device is not working properly, correct?” The Repair Tech asked.

“Correct,” Margolis said.

“The ticket describes the problem as, I quote here; ‘Unintentional Misuse.’” The Repair Tech shook his head. “Mister Margolis, I assume you read the directions before even attempting to engage the device, am I right?”

“Uh, yeah,” Margolis said looking around again.

“Did you adhere to the regulations involving underage use of the device?” The Repair Tech asked. “And requirements for instructing any teen-agers in the house of the restrictions on the device’s usage?”

Margolis nodded, somewhat frantically.

“Any infants or toddlers in the house?” The Repair Tech asked.

“No. No kids,” Margolis said. “It’s just me and…uh, my…my cat.”

“Your cat?” The Repair Tech asked.

“Yeah, I had, uh been duplicating the last slice of pizza and I guess there was some of it left in the machine and the cat went in and, uh, got well…duplicated.”

“Um, duplicated a living cat?” The Repair Tech said. “And it was a living duplicate?”

“Well, yes.” Margolis said. “The copy acts just like Ginger-Boy. Right down to the whiskers.”

“Mister Margolis, there was no reason for you to place an expensive service call, inert non-living matter will stay solid but something living like a cat will simply flicker out of existence in about six hours. If you’d read the instructions…”

“I’ve read the instructions, dammit!” Margolis snapped. “I helped write the damn instructions I helped develop the programs that make the Emolurator possible. And I’ve been working on one of the sub-routines. But there are a few…glitches…”

“Glitches,” the Repair Tech said. “What kind of glitches?”

“Um, non-inert matter, you know like a cat, that’s supposed to disappear after a few hours? Well that’s the sub-routine I was working on. To stabilize the effects.”

“Stabilize?” The Repair Tech said in a flat voice.

“Yeah.” Margolis said. “So we can duplicate a person’s body parts, you know, for replacement and transplants. Stuff like that.”

“Stuff like that,” the Repair Tech said.

“I’ve managed to stabilize living matter,” Margolis said. “Under controlled conditions. The new sub-routine kind of messed with…messed up the Emolurator’s programming.”

“Messed-up…” the Repair Tech said.

“That was working. Well, sort of.” Margolis said. “It’s working on-and-off. I mean, it will go on and off without anybody turning it on or off. And it did.”

“Cats…” the Repair Tech said.

Margolis nodded. “Yeah. I got the one extra cat and I turned the thing off and I checked out both cats and I guess mine went back in the machine and took a nap and then the machine started coming on and on and on…”

The Repair Tech held up his hand with the clipboard to silence Margolis.

“Mister Margolis, is that the reason you are sitting here in the middle of your street in an armchair?”

“Uh, yeah,” Margolis said. “I ran out to the garage and I had this old chair out there and my car’s in the shop and I needed to sit down and I had to get away from the…well, I puled the garage door shut and pushed this out into the street and called you on my cellphone and…and…”

Margolis took a deep breath, shut his eyes and clenched the armrests.

“Acceleration.” Margolis said. “Proportionately. Real fast.”

“Um..is that your house?” the Repair Tech said, pointing.

The Mid-Century Modern home had its window curtains open. There were orange, furry shapes pressed against the windows.

“One-Potato-Two-Potato…” the Repair Tech breathed.

There was a glassy pop as the front window burst open and a flood of orange cats fell into the yard, meowing, yeowling, sniffing.

Margolis and the Repair Tech ran for his van.

As the van barreled down the street, the Repair Tech put through an emergency call to his office, concluding with the words “Don’t ask me why but I need an emergency shut-off on the power to that customer address on my contact sheet!”

“I have a generator…” Margolis said, sinking into the van seat.

They imagined seeing hundreds of cats following them in the rear view mirror.

—end—