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at work i have to answer the phone, “this is shield special agent madison reporting from the disney store, how can i help you?”
and i’ve gotten three guests immediately respond back with “hail hydra.”
finish this sentence: m
y body craves for the touch of mashed potatoes, the soft white flesh of the vegetable sliding over my body. i havent slept in fifteen days. only the beautiful rapturous gooey white semi solid plant matter inspires me to continue living. sometimes i like to imagine that the mashed potatoes have accepted me as their loving partner. oh can i dream.
What the actual fuck