One Potato Review
Boy brings grandpa for show-and-tell. “Things were a lot tougher back then,” he reminisces predictably about growing up, though “tough” in these pages is represented by pictures of gangsters, and strongmen, and circus clowns, and army tanks, and crocodiles, and doctors with very long needles, and look – is that Edgar Allen Poe? It’s all a little mysterious and terrifying.
Frank doesn’t like noise, or gadgets, or haircuts, or doctors, or anything but vanilla, but it turns out he’s got a lot more up his sleeve – including one blurry tattoo. The last page finds a round table of school children giving him his due – and probably a little bit more. Can he really catch a fly with his bare hands and let it go? And did he truly lose his sense of smell to an amateur boxing career? Considering how fine it feels sometimes to get swept up in somebody else’s story, what would it finally cost them if they were wrong?
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