[His coccyx is thoroughly sore by the time he recovers from that one, thanks to his tendency to more or less collapse into bed after the end of a very long, exhausting day of doing absolutely nothing. Both the couch and the bed - gone. Papyrus plays a cruel game.
When he finally manages to get his bed back - the couch too, though it certainly didn't come quietly, insisting on getting stuck in the doorways and scraping along the floors - he just kinda leaves most of his stuff in the wrapping paper.
For his next trick, he rearranges the meticulously organized contents of Papyrus's wardrobe. Everything from socks to gloves to shirt to scarves ends up in completely the wrong drawer and closet.
Should Papyrus progress past that initial barrier in his morning routine, he'll eventually discover that someone, and I'm not naming any names here, has squirted a few drops of bright blue food coloring into the toothpaste, ready for the next unsuspecting victim to dye their pearly whites.
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When he finally manages to get his bed back - the couch too, though it certainly didn't come quietly, insisting on getting stuck in the doorways and scraping along the floors - he just kinda leaves most of his stuff in the wrapping paper.
For his next trick, he rearranges the meticulously organized contents of Papyrus's wardrobe. Everything from socks to gloves to shirt to scarves ends up in completely the wrong drawer and closet.
Should Papyrus progress past that initial barrier in his morning routine, he'll eventually discover that someone, and I'm not naming any names here, has squirted a few drops of bright blue food coloring into the toothpaste, ready for the next unsuspecting victim to dye their pearly whites.
You're blue now.]