Virgin Potato

By Callum Cordeaux

Wilson Althaus' day is about to get very wierd at the Targong Agricultural College Open Day. Some hallucinogenic potato chips and a distraught and disgruntled family are likely to make this a day that Althaus will remember for a long time, if he survives the day.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Callum Cordeaux
• Release date: Jan 1, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524257552

Callum Cordeaux

Callum Cordeaux is a part time writer, part time surveyor living in Toowoomba in southern Queensland. His writing passions involve a deep love affair with science fiction and good crime thrillers.  He can be contacted on facebook at www.facebook.com/callum.cordeaux or on twitter. 

Book preview

As Vice Chancellor of the college, Doctor Wilson Althaus did not expect to be manning the reception counter on the busiest day of the college year. Amelie had called in sick early in the morning and they were already short staffed due to funding cut backs. In past years Dr Althaus had been able to get away with being the public face of Targong Agricultural College with a friendly greeting to potential students and eager parents, then push them along to the appropriate member of staff.

At ten o’clock in the morning Dr Althaus was feeling the pressure of a particularly large number of visitors clamoring for scholarly attention.

At 10.25 Althaus noticed the boy and his mother and father standing well away from the counter looking as out of place as three wild pigs in a prize herd of Landraces. As he helped other parents with brochures and directions he watched the trio from the corner of his eye.

She looked almost normal if you overlooked the old fashioned cut of her mismatched clothes, bare feet were a dead giveaway. There was a definite genetic link between the boy and his father, both with slightly-vacant staring eyes, round spud-shaped heads and thick lipped, open mouths. They were both big men without appearing overly tall, perhaps due to the rounded nature of their shoulders and the complete absence of a visible neck on either of them. The father was dressed in belted shorts and a dark T-shirt; the son dressed in old ruggers and a long sleeved football jersey that he had outgrown. Thick hairy hands and four inches of wrist protruded from the sleeves of that once green garment.

Althaus knew his luck wasn’t in that day; it had started with Amelie’s early phone call and now it was happening again. The other staffers at the counter were busy, perhaps deliberately so, and the