Being the fashion plate that he was, Spud had always admired the hip stylings of the Fraternal Order of Shriners. From their crushed velvetine suits to their red felt fez hats, Spud felt that the Shriner's were always a step ahead of the Hugo Boss' and Georgio Armanis of the world.
Concerned
about his image on the world stage, Spud set out to complement his wardrobe,
by adding the crown jewel to his accessories: his very own fez, complete
with a gold tassel.
Even though Spud had his own miniature car, it was not enough to gain membership in the prestigious order of Shriners so the tater had to think of another way to obtain one of these prized headpieces.
After a bit of research on the internet, Spud found that the fez is made in the North African country of Morocco. Sparing no expense for the sake of style, the potato boarded the next plane to the city of Tangier.
A trip to the bustling coastal town's marketplace just outside of the famed Casbah, revealed a small stall where the tuber found a magnificent specimen of the hat has been made locally since the 9th century. A short time later, after some aggressive haggling, Spud emerged with the brilliant scarlet red fez.
As the side dish walked through the marketplace, locals stopped what they were doing to admire the stylish Spud.
Since this was his first time in Africa, the potato thought he'd take some time out for a camel trek into one of the continent's vast deserts. Spud found a man with a livery of dromedaries and bargained a deal for a three day tour in the immense Sahara desert.
The tater climbed aboard the back of a rather pungent-smelling camel and prepared to set off. Just as the great beast was about to rise to its feet, the hapless tater was accosted by an equally-pungent onlooker dressed in a bad suit and an even worse looking ball cap.
The
man grabbed for Spud's prized fez and knocked the potato to the ground
in the process. Having snatched the attractive headpiece, the hoodlum
turned and tried to flee.
Having sensed the commotion, the camel stood up and made a long, deep hawking noise. Looking directly at the thief, the dromedary then proceeded to shower him with the contents of its throat. The blinded heathen shrieked and dropped the fez in the frothy puddle at his feet, before turning and running away down the narrow street.
Picking himself up off the dusty ground, Spud looked over at his stylish chapeau bathing in camel saliva. Suddenly, the red felt fez just didn't seem to be as fashionable any more.