He is a Yam Tater. He is, in fact, the King of the Yam Taters.

A YamKing, if you will.

Only the king is allowed to wear the nose.

Schokie didn’t trust the YamKing.

Yammy shared with us our holiday cheer.

Sometimes a little too much cheer.

But, like all seasonal kings, Yammy’s time on Earth was brief.

One dark winter night, the Banaaratots were dug.

The Delicatas sliced.

And Yammy was sacrificed to the cast iron gods.

We ate his flesh by candlelight.

And he presided over the feast.

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