text @PAPYRUS - New Years

[spaghettimonster]

HAPPY 1962!!!

IT'S HARD TO CALL THIS A NEW YEAR... SINCE THIS SEEMS LIKE THE PAST TO ME.

BUT DECEMBER IS OVER! AND IT DOESN'T LOOK LIKE IT'S SUDDENLY FEBRUARY.

HOW ABOUT.

HAPPY NEW OLD YEAR!!!

[But don't be fooled - it's the start of 1961! Despite Papyrus optimistically posting this at midnight on the dot, everything from the TV countdown to physical calendars to outstanding bills says otherwise.]

Comments

[ribticklers]

[Sans has been exaggerating for effect, but honestly, now that he's lying down, he really does just want to stay right there and not move for a while. he could use a blanket, maybe, but not enough to actually get up. Except for Papyrus, maybe, things won't really be better in the morning, but there's something to be said for the power of sleep to provide the blank nothingness where he couldn't worry about things even if he wanted to.]

Mmph. [Yeah that is not exactly Sans moving to text anyone. That is barely a noise.]

[spaghettimonster]

...Sigh. [That sure doesn't sound like texting.

But Papyrus rallying to put up a good front for himself and his brother is one thing, while rallying to put up a good front for only himself... that takes energy, and he's tired. With any luck, Lorna is asleep and won't notice, and - if she minds, if she's invested in her fake husband enough to be concerned and upset - hopefully she and Sans can work it out between them.

He heads upstairs, past the small empty rooms of potential children, and to the bed he first woke in. Racecar slippers not quite squeaking all the way. Maybe tomorrow will make more sense. It won't.]