[Papyrus, grumbling, puts the loafers on his feet. He wears them the entire time he searches for his real shoes. When he finally finds them, hours later, he is fueling Rage like he never has before.
When Sans next sees his bedroom, he will find that every single item in it has been wrapped wrapped entirely with intricately designed, Snowdin's-favorite-holiday-themed gift wrap made from taped together scraps of paper that Papyrus himself lovingly and painstakingly painted and decorated. In case he decides to take the lazy route and simply start sleeping in the living room, the sofa has been gift wrapped, as well. Should he attempt to plop down on it or his bed anyway, the paper will instantly collapse, betraying the fact that the sofa and bed are not wrapped at all, they are actually completely missing.
They're buried in the backyard, their location only betrayed by a mound of soil with a shovel sticking out of it and a note on the shovel that says,]
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When Sans next sees his bedroom, he will find that every single item in it has been wrapped wrapped entirely with intricately designed, Snowdin's-favorite-holiday-themed gift wrap made from taped together scraps of paper that Papyrus himself lovingly and painstakingly painted and decorated. In case he decides to take the lazy route and simply start sleeping in the living room, the sofa has been gift wrapped, as well. Should he attempt to plop down on it or his bed anyway, the paper will instantly collapse, betraying the fact that the sofa and bed are not wrapped at all, they are actually completely missing.
They're buried in the backyard, their location only betrayed by a mound of soil with a shovel sticking out of it and a note on the shovel that says,]