My living room floor looks like a vegetarian horror film staring Mr. Potato Head in the process of being boiled, roasted, pan seared, charred, mashed, and skewered. The following is a conversation between Mr. Pirate Potato and Mr. or Mrs. Pat Potato, before I tripped into the room, going something like this (random thought: Are there cross dressers where spuds are involved? I'm sure the unavoidable androgyny inherent in the lives of potatoes has spared Hasbro a few headaches where lawsuit-happy gender activists are involved) :
Mr. Pirate Potato: You better pick a good one this time or this will be the last spud race you ever see, get my drift?
Mr.or Mrs. Pat Potato: Well, I'm just going to put this mustache and this skirt on and nobody will recognize me when I place this bet on the Irish spud with the blemishes. Trust me, I'll be back before you can sprout eyes.
Mr. Pirate Potato: "betray [me], and I will fong you, until your insides are your out, and your outsides are in, your entrails will become your ex trails I will w-rip...all the p...ung. Pain, lots of pain." (Knight's Tale)
"They did it, they finally did it! [Dang] you all to [heck]!" (Planet of the Apes).
Apparently, Mr. or Mrs. Pat Potato must have taken the winnings and made a smashing run for it. Unfortunately for him or her, Mr. Pirate Potato was used to his or her type of spud's antics and I found the results on the floor and there were definitely ex trails, entrails and lots of fonging. Has anyone seen my masher?
I couldn't resist posting this picture of "Darthtater".
P.S. Thank you Wendy for the Mr. Potato Head set. As you can see it definitely helps to build the imagination. I've been kicking a tongue and arm around all weekend.