About Sans, who wanted to find out who pooped on his head

Shit-eaters (shit-eaters),

Blazing (blazing)

For minors… And that’s it for today!”

© Juvenile Goblino

One day, while patrolling the Snowdin Forest, Sans poked his head out from under the roof of his post to have lunch after a recent snack. When suddenly it happened — an amazing brown rounded thing, a little like a sausage, landed Sans right on the bald bone crown and spread a little on it, quickly freezing in the frosty air and making the skeleton’s head look like a ball of Halloween ice cream with a curl of chocolate cream. “*that’s the LUCKY!” The skeleton grunted, the small dots in its eye sockets went out. “who decided to RELIEVE self soul on me?” He examined the forest with unusual zeal and thoroughness for himself, but found no one. After weighing the pros and cons, Sans decided that he could spend on investigating this everyday surprise a couple of lunch breaks, which were going on in a row in his schedule. So he ended up in Hotland. “*hey, BOMBARDIER, it’s you dropped your load on me?” he asked Tsunderplane, which was just flying nearby. “Id… Idiot!” the flushed Tsunderplane was indignant, and — bang-bang-bam! — bombs flew to the ground, almost tearing Sans to pieces. “*i see,” muttered Sans and moved out of harm’s way into the Waterfall. “*hey, STUD, didn’t you throw an extra luggage on me?” he asked Aaron, who was puffing his muscles in a puddle nearby. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, buddy;)” said Aaron, admiring his reflection in the wet skin of his biceps, “but it’s like you got out of a dump. Come on, I’ll help you with this, the water is fine!;)” A few magic drops shattered the stone wall behind Sans, whose expression eloquently showed that excuses of same quality would be used now than the mysterious mass on the fontanel of the skeleton. “*heh,” the skeleton retreated further away, continuing to smile awkwardly. “maybe another time. i have, you know, a chronic intolerance to wet calcium.” Moved to Snowdin, Sans decided to try his luck with someone as harmless as possible. His choice fell on a bunny girl with a younger brother on a leash. A win-win option. “*listen, long ears,” Sans began, rolling up to the rabbit like a bun. “have you been jumping through the woods today? maybe you lost something along the way, huh?” The rabbit wrinkled her pink button nose and pulled the leash, which caused several black pellets to roll out from under the jumped-up big-eared lump in the snow. Well, but Sans got an important lesson about the peculiarities of the world around him. Sans himself, however, did not even think about it. He was standing in front of the purple door to the Ruins. The door, as before, was locked, but that doesn’t mean anything when it comes to what someone might think was a good joke. “*knock knock.” *Who’s there? “*postman. I’ve been standing here for a long time.” *How long ago? Sans braced himself. “*WCince early morning.” There was an awkward silence outside the door for a while, which was then broken by an awkward and—Sans knew something about it-frankly polite laughter. And how could he even think that she was?.. In search of the truth, Sans appeared before the king himself. At first. For a few moments. After that, out of politeness, he immediately moved behind the throne and began to watch as Azgor frowns and sighs, giving his best in his care for the golden flowers — one of the few reminders of the family that humanity deprived him of. Sans made sure that His Majesty had nothing to do with his problem, and when Asgore, having finished feeding, got up and, straightening his robe, began watering flowers, the skeleton was no longer in the throne room. Finally, it dawned on Sans. Only one being could do this to him and find it ridiculous. Unfortunately for himself, Sans had no idea how to find this weirdo, except, perhaps, literally digging the ground. But he was lucky — Flowey himself jumped out in front of him like the jack-in-the-box. “Hee-hee-hee,” the flower smiled broadly. “You finally gave up and showed your true self.” Closing his eyes, Sans shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “*i understand why, thistle,” he said. “i can’t figure out one thing — how?” Fury was reflected on the inflorescence of the flower. “If you think I’m going to dirty the shoots because of some smiling garbage bag, then you’re an IDIOT!” he growled. “And if I could get close to you and somehow… shit, I would do something,” the rage on the inflorescence of the Flowery was replaced by a maniacal grin, “that would surely BREAK you! “The flower blinked in puzzlement, spat, and, grumbling, dived back into the ground. Not finding the one who left this already rather cold trail. Sans decided to return to his post and watch for a couple of minutes before the end of this lunch break and the beginning of the next one. On the way, however, he met Dogamy and Dogaressa, and Sans, forgetting himself, was not too lazy to slap himself on the forehead, which left a lot of interesting things on the phalanges. Of course! Dogs understand such things better than others. “*sup, SNIFFERS,” Sanz greeted them. “i got something here, maybe you, guys, can sniff out whose GIFT it is?” The dogs walked around him from the sides, sniffing carefully, and began to excitedly pass over his crown. “*What?! It smells like… (Is it a pomeraisins! Mmm, I want-I want!)” Sans didn’t ears out much, but it was enough to at least figure out where to start looking. And by the enthusiasm of the dogs, the skeleton began to imagine who he would have to face. Until now, only his brother had suffered from the antics of this creature, but nothing lasts forever, does it? The smeared phalanges clenched around a small bone. The letters Z rose in a trickle from the Little Dog 's booth. Sans silently—he knew how to do that too—crept up to the entrance and looked inside. In a hopelessly gutted box of pomeraisins, an Annoying Dog was peacefully sleeping, yapping and popping. This persecution has come to an end. “*well, I ran enough with you, my friend,” Sans chuckled, moving away from the booth. He wanted to add something else, but then the dog woke up and, after yapping a couple of times — yif! yif! — flew out of hiding right over Sans' head like a bullet. Looking up, the skeleton, as if in slow motion, saw paws tucked in a jump and a brown snake crawling out from under the tail — and then the dog disappeared into the snow—covered trees, and the snake that remained in the air plopped in a straight line on Sans' face, so that an improvised thick chocolate mustache grew on top of the frozen smile. “*mamma mia,” Sans said unexpectedly to himself. Cautiously feeling the new detail of his image, he exhaled and trudged to his post — after all, the lunch break was already over, and the time for an afternoon nap was approaching. And he finally revealed the secret. And this was clearly an excuse to talk to Undyne about the overtime fee.