Flowey the Flower? Bro sounds like a rejected mascot for a gardening club. Imagine being a flower and still managing to have less soul than a cactus.
Your name’s “Flowey” like you’re trying to be cute, but you look like a daisy that listened to too many creepypastas. You out here talking about “kill or be killed,” but you’re literally made of petals — calm down, daffodil Damien.
You really said, “Howdy! I’m Flowey the Flower!” like we’re supposed to trust a plant that sounds like it belongs on a toddler’s TV show but acts like it came straight out of a therapy session gone wrong.
Flowey, buddy, you’re not scary — you’re just a mean salad with Wi-Fi access.
