"Hey, turn that frown upside down, Pearl!"
She looked up from the squelchy potato she was scrape-peeling with a tired, bent old spoon. Mr. Laurice -- wet to his knees, proudly clutching a straggly branch that wouldn't make very good firewood at all -- grinned at her.
"Um..." Pearl nearly chewed her thumbnail; rotten potato clung to it. "Turn it upside down ...?"
"Yeah!" He jabbed out a thumbs-up, and his smile strained around the eyes. "Look on the bright side and keep your chin up! Nothing can keep a good loser down!"
A lack of spiritual powers could, though. The potato in her hands suddenly looked even sadder. Pearl poked a big black spot with the spoon's tip -- it left a frown-shaped gouge.
"Do you really think so, Mr. Laurice ...?"
"Hey," he cried, clenching fists, "If lowly potatoes can become magnificent golden French fries, nothing's impossible! Reach for the stars! Maximize the envelope!"
She hadn't thought about it like that: potatoes had grow for a long time if they wanted to be French fries. And maybe if a loser potato worked hard, it could be delicious someday. Turning the potato over -- watching the gouge turn into a black-gaping smile -- Pearl nodded.
"I think I understand, Mr. Laurice." Another chunk of dark slime peeled off under the spoon's edge. "And these potatoes might be food after all!"
"Great," Mr. Laurice squawked. And he yanked thoughtfully on an old log before asking, "So, do you have any of that gravy left?"