Salad

Flowey opened his mouth to scream, but his voice could not escape the expertly fastened and tied salad around his mouth. He wriggled about, trying to flee from what would quickly become his sacrifical altar, only to find his mobility impaired by the piles of delicious cucumber and tomato slices.

He raised his head as much as possible and screamed again, only to feel a thick liquid pouring down his healthy coffin, quickly seeping into every possible crack. Even as his consciousness slowly vanished, the smell remained strong as ever.

Frisk looked around, taking note of everyone just staring at the wriggling, semi-loud salad bowl before him. He finally shrugged and smacked the bottle again, tasty ranch entombing the flower.