Art by: Solid Snivy (http://knowyourmeme.com/users/solid-snivy)
“Conceding defeat, skull boy?”
Papyrus, or Paps as he was sometimes referred by his brother, looked unconvinced. It was as if a cloud hung above his head, showering him with crippling misfortune in the many board games that he partaken in.
Loss after loss he endured, but he was never one to surrender so easily.
“Not a chance, human!” exclaimed Papyrus. “I will never give up, not till the last drop of blood!”
Sans and I could not say a word, but Paps could not be serious.
“I will be outside,” was the tall vertebrate’s words as he separated from his chair and made his way out.
“Sans,” I asked, “where is Papyrus gone to?”
Sans raised his shoulders. “Beats me, kiddo.”
I left my chair and headed for the exit. Sans did not bother to follow. Instead, he took the liberty to hold on to his cup of coffee, and poured excess ketchup on the delicate fries.
Outside, I was greeted by the glimmering of lights, as well as the coolness of the night. The fog retreated momentarily, so there was a complete little town in front of me. The Monsters were mostly of gentle, warm nature; they made no fuss over my racial identity.
I encountered a beautiful rabbit-like Monster, who accompanied her baby brother for a walk outside; no potty training necessary. There was also The Rock, who stood with his two lovely children outside a house but a few inches from the swishing currents of the river.
“Hey, kids,” the Rock said, “do you smell what momma’s cookin’?”
“No, dad,” his first child replied.
“Me, neither,” the second child replied.
The Rock let out a chuckle. “If you smell what momma’s cookin’… call me back into the house! I just LOOOVE her grilled steak!”
Monsters do have a cheeky sense of humor, not unlike the humans that I know in my brief lifetime.
Papyrus was a human-hunting fanatic that would go to extreme lengths to make sure a human got captured, regardless of how questionable, or lack thereof, methods imposed to do so. There was much debate as to his motives for capturing. It could be that he hated human flesh; that he has got a point to prove to the Royal Guard; or he was just looking for ways to burn time because he was awfully bored.
Beating him in common human games was a private triumph, but mattered little to me. I just wanted it all to be done with. Winning was not the priority. For Paps, he was determined to beat me, so much that he stormed off to possibly plot a vicious attack.
Not that it mattered, for I was starting to relish the little town of Snowdin and its mostly gracious inhabitants.
A voice crept from a distance. A fish creature looked straight at me.
“Marco, you clueless white oaf!” the fish angrily screamed at the tip of my ear. “You are supposed to follow the Royal Guard!”
I was baffled. “T-the R-royal…?”
“Do not play dumb with me, you little rascal! Go, now!”
She beat me on the back with a whip. I screamed and got moving. As ordered, I followed a gang of disproportionately-sized dogs. The one in front of the group was dressed mightily in a body armor. Behind him were two similarly-dressed ones, hands held together as if in a marriage ceremony. The last in the group, the one right in front of me, was either not paying attention to where he was walking, or indefinitely sight-impaired.
One heck of a group.
Suddenly, a thought bubble came alight. Heck, maybe these dogs know the way. Maybe they will lead me to the King’s castle, and then the barrier. This is certainly one of my lucky days!
Thanks a lot, Sans, for the plumber costume, even though it was size L.