“Idaho makes all fifty,” Black said as they got out of the car. McCoy just raised an eyebrow. Black shrugged and they went into the precinct. “Yeah, would have thought the last state I’d visit would be Alaska or Hawaii, or maybe one of the smaller ones in New England. Hardly the strangest thing in our lives these days, though.”

“Point,” McCoy said.

“You guys the FBI agents they sent in?” a young officer asked. His badge said his name was Thompson.

“Agent Black, and my partner, Agent McCoy. The report was a little vague. Somebody’s been stealing from the National Potato Repository?”

The officer grinned. “Something like that.”

“No offense, but that sounds like something your department should be able to handle. Why did you call the ‘Department?’”

The FBI had formed a new branch, specifically to investigate the bizarre occurrences that had been happening over the last two years. It currently consisted of Black, McCoy, a dozen other FBI agents, and one overworked secretary. They didn’t have anyone in charge yet, and Black was pretty sure the next department head to screw up would be ‘promoted’ to the position. Nobody had come up with a satisfactory name for the department, largely because even the agents weren’t exactly sure what they were doing. So they just called it the ‘Department,’ and most people knew what they meant.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try us,” McCoy said.

“Just follow me,” Thompson said. “You’ll see soon enough.”

Black exchanged a look and a shrug with McCoy. They went back out to their car and followed the young cop in his squad car. It wasn’t long before they could see the silos of the repository.

“Does something look odd about that one on the right?” Black asked.

“… Yeah,” McCoy said, as if he had an idea what they where looking at, but strongly hoped he was wrong.

It quickly became obvious that he wasn’t wrong. Thousands of potatoes sat in a tall cylinder. By all accounts they should have fallen in to a great big pile, but for whatever reason they hadn’t.

Thompson was waiting for them in the parking lot, with a giant grin on his face. Black got out of the car and took off his sunglasses to get a better look and the impossible pile of potatoes.

“So when you said someone was robbing the National Potato Repository,” Black said, “you didn’t mean they were robbing from the repository, did you?”

“Nope,” Thompson said, “that’s why I said you wouldn’t believe me.”

“We would have,” McCoy said.

Black nodded. “The same thing happened at an amusement park in Colorado. Tracks went missing, but the coaster somehow ran fine without them. We still had to shut them down, of course.”

“You’re kidding me!” Thompson said.

“No,” Black replied, looking up at the tower of potatoes again. “We’re the Department. We don’t have to make things up.”