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ask-the-freeman asked:

Oh no I forgot to talk to you for a while!

ask-the-freeman:

theonefreewoman:

She then proceeded to throw the potato from much earlier at his face.

Fortunately, a potato in their vicinity quickly transformed into a miniature Gordon, collecting all the crowbars while running around underfoot and laughing maniacally.

The full-size Gordon suddenly executed a perfect potato roll straight into the Calboob Army, causing the whole group to vanish into an alternate universe.

And then, everything was potato.

Her eyes narrowed before throwing her hands into the air and walking out the door. ‘I’m gone!’

ask-the-freeman asked:

Oh no I forgot to talk to you for a while!

ask-the-freeman:

theonefreewoman:

She then proceeded to throw the potato from much earlier at his face.

Unfortunately for her, the Calboob army was in full session, marching down the corridor and making corny jokes about beer and stuff while handing out crowbars to each other like they were candy. If something didn’t happen soon, the Calhounness in the room would soon reach critical mass, and collapse into a lame-joke singularity!

Why were Mondays always so strange… 

ask-the-freeman asked:

Oh no I forgot to talk to you for a while!

ask-the-freeman:

sheila-conagher:

ask-the-freeman:

theonefreewoman:

theonefreewoman:

She then proceeded to throw the potato from much earlier at his face.

'GORDON??'

He unceremoniously shoved a potato in her mouth, and promptly began throwing potatoes around the room at perfect 1-degree angles from each other, forming a perfect 360-degree circle of tuber-based destruction. “AND THEN WHO WAS POTATO” he screamed, continuing the starchy assault.

image

im just gonna throw that in here

this was clearly the best possible result

Perfect

ask-the-freeman asked:

Oh no I forgot to talk to you for a while!

ask-the-freeman:

theonefreewoman:

She then proceeded to throw the potato from much earlier at his face.

He unceremoniously shoved a potato in her mouth, and promptly began throwing potatoes around the room at perfect 1-degree angles from each other, forming a perfect 360-degree circle of tuber-based destruction. “AND THEN WHO WAS POTATO” he screamed, continuing the starchy assault.

She spit it out and got up to find a Calhoun.

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