[She is all settled in, a cup of cocoa, a blanket, ready to take some comfort in her favorite show.
Instead. It is this. This BETRAYAL that has a certain skeleton written all over it.]
how dare u mess w mew mew this is all out WAR
[Alright. Alright. This started with ketchup, it's escalating to ketchup. She grabs one of his bottles and shakes it all to the top, then quickly flips it, adds a little baking soda, and closes the lid.
[Hilarious, right? Yep. Fantastic. Equally fantastic when he's about to thoroughly douse one of his signature 'dogs in ketchup and ends up with approximately one (1) shattered bottle, and a ten (10) foot radius of ketchup spattered across every available surface in a gooey, tomato-y halation.
He already smells pretty terrible on the regular (the permeating stench of awful hot dog water is an awful thing to bear witness to), but now he just smells like pretty terrible with a side of ketchup.
For his next trick, he's gotta wait until hears her react to it before texting her.]
p.s. duck.
['Cause when she opens her door next, he's rigged a bucket of mustard to come swinging down and thoroughly douse her. Yellow always was her color, right?]
[She shrieks when the bucket hits her, because it douses her and also almost decks her in the face. It is awful. Everything about it is awful. She wears a white lab coat Sans, do you know how hard bleach is to find around here??? JEEZ.]
THAT WAS NOT A DUCK SANS what is it w u and condiments
[She's debating what to hit him with next when she stumbles upon a box of 1000 paper cups, and suddenly she Knows. When Sans enters his room next, every surface in his room is covered in paper cups filled with ketchup- including his bed, so he can't teleport to it. His only option is to eat his way out, which she thinks he'll enjoy until he's about 200 cups in, and then it will be funny.]
[The very worst part is that there's no place to put any of it. He can't just dump the stuff in a bowl and be done with it, no; there's just too gosh-darned much of it arrayed atop every available surface. Even stepping over them isn't an option, 'cause they're all clustered too well close together.
Curse you, brilliant Dr. Alphys. He had to go hunting around for some fries and a couple dozen 'dogs to get through all of it. He gets partially through before giving up and simply clearing off his bed, where he can sleep in the awful stink of ketchup and hot dog water to his nonexistent heart's content.]
you hypocrite. i can't believe you. my "condiments" to the chef.
[What's he got in store next for her? Well, he don't mean to toot his own horn, but that's exactly what he does.
Alphys's desk chair gets an airhorn taped beneath it in exactly the right way so that it utters an obnoxiously loud honk as soon as she sits on it.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
HE'S GOING FOR DISTANCE
Instead. It is this. This BETRAYAL that has a certain skeleton written all over it.]
how dare u mess w mew mew
this is all out WAR
[Alright. Alright. This started with ketchup, it's escalating to ketchup. She grabs one of his bottles and shakes it all to the top, then quickly flips it, adds a little baking soda, and closes the lid.
Have fun with your ketchup cannon, Sans.]
THIS IS KANGAROO COURT
[Hilarious, right? Yep. Fantastic. Equally fantastic when he's about to thoroughly douse one of his signature 'dogs in ketchup and ends up with approximately one (1) shattered bottle, and a ten (10) foot radius of ketchup spattered across every available surface in a gooey, tomato-y halation.
He already smells pretty terrible on the regular (the permeating stench of awful hot dog water is an awful thing to bear witness to), but now he just smells like pretty terrible with a side of ketchup.
For his next trick, he's gotta wait until hears her react to it before texting her.]
p.s.
duck.
['Cause when she opens her door next, he's rigged a bucket of mustard to come swinging down and thoroughly douse her. Yellow always was her color, right?]
THE KETCHUPOCALYPSE
THAT WAS NOT A DUCK SANS
what is it w u and condiments
[She's debating what to hit him with next when she stumbles upon a box of 1000 paper cups, and suddenly she Knows. When Sans enters his room next, every surface in his room is covered in paper cups filled with ketchup- including his bed, so he can't teleport to it. His only option is to eat his way out, which she thinks he'll enjoy until he's about 200 cups in, and then it will be funny.]
the great ketchup war of 2k16
Curse you, brilliant Dr. Alphys. He had to go hunting around for some fries and a couple dozen 'dogs to get through all of it. He gets partially through before giving up and simply clearing off his bed, where he can sleep in the awful stink of ketchup and hot dog water to his nonexistent heart's content.]
you hypocrite.
i can't believe you.
my "condiments" to the chef.
[What's he got in store next for her? Well, he don't mean to toot his own horn, but that's exactly what he does.
Alphys's desk chair gets an airhorn taped beneath it in exactly the right way so that it utters an obnoxiously loud honk as soon as she sits on it.
Guess he is someone toot his own horn after all!]