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Cutthroat Kitchen: Prepare Nyehself!

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Tonight, hopes would be crushed, dreams would be shattered, pride would take a mighty fall, and these chefs were going to spend all their money making sure that the other cooks were the ones to suffer. Alton Brown surveyed his domain, feeling a sadistic glee begin to grow. Yes; this would be quite the fun show.

His introductory speech began playing in the background, just the thing to set the mood as he pulled out a metal briefcase. “I have $100,000 of cold hard cash; four chefs get $25,000 each. But if they want to leave the kitchen with any of this cash, they have to survive three culinary challenges – and each other. In a game where sabotage is not only encouraged, it’s for sale.” Memories of past challenges passed through his mind – ice cream made with liquid nitrogen, ramen without any noodles, his victims forced to cook while stuffed in cumbersome and humiliating ‘superhero’ outfits, cooking in canoes – good times, good times.

The host smiled in the anticipation of the poor, unsuspecting chef’s future frustrations. They thought they knew – they always did – but they were always wrong. Tonight, there was something even more special than normal – something that had never been seen on this show before. They would be host to a true monster – and only time would tell if he was a monster in the kitchen as well.

He hid just out of sight, watching as the four contestants descended from his ‘tower’, one at a time. They had all given their biography to the camera before this event, and he recalled the pertinent facts as they paraded across his kitchen – let them prance while they still have the chance.

Dave was first; a big, burly southern guy. He’d discovered a taste for cooking as a kid and learned his craft from his grandma’s hip – classic southern boy. He was here to show off that country strength, to have fun and make some money. He laid out his fine array of steak knives and cooking utensils, folding his arms across his chest in a gesture of preemptive defiance.

Hank was next; he was much slimmer than the first, well dressed with hair slicked back. He walked as if he was the second coming of Gordon Ramsey, and had the attitude to go with it. He was so proud to serve his food only to the elite, seemed to think that they were the only ones deserving of his work. His little chef kit was well made – likely tailored and made of expensive leather. Alton didn’t bother to hide his grin – he did so love making this type of person suffer.

Their special guest came next, bounding into the room with disturbing levels of energy for what looked like the dead. A tall skeleton, dressed in red booty shorts and a white crop top, proudly took his place behind his stand. He pulled out what looked like a homemade bag, containing his cooking utensils with… faces and hearts stenciled on top? And stickers of spaghetti? The apron he was wearing, somehow securely wrapped around his skeletally thin – and just skeletal in general – body looked well-made and well-loved. Little patches had been torn and sewn up, and there were messily embroidered pictures of… a human and a skeleton holding hands at the bottom? And the words “COOLEST CHEF” splayed across the chest? Well, this Papyrus was certainly going to be a fun contender.

Papyrus was here to show off his cooking skills and represent monster-kind – “WELL, MYSELF MOSTLY, BUT ALSO MY TEACHER AND FRIEND UNDYNE! AND MY FRIEND THE HUMAN, AND MY BROTHER THE SLOVENLY SLOB – SANS, IF YOU’RE LISTENING, PICK UP YOUR SOCK RIGHT NOW! I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU’RE EMBARESSING ME WHEN YOU’RE NOT EVEN HERE!” The sheer force of his words, combined with his macabre appearance, created quite the frightening visage. Yet, he was wearing a smile, and was radiating a friendly atmosphere – quite the interesting contradiction.

Cynthia was his last victim of the day – and the only female, unless the monster was hiding something unexpected under his short shorts and poofy shirt. She was from up north, divorced and with three kids. After returning to college, she had opened a very friendly family restaurant. She was here to prove to her Ex that she was worth something, that she could succeed no matter the odds life placed before her, and take home some money to her teenaged kids. She took her place as the last in the row, pulling out a well-maintained kit.

The host prepared himself, ready to introduce himself to the poor saps. Time to see which cooks would trip and fall in a blaze of humiliation!


HELLO, FELLOW CHEFS!” The monster beamed out, and Hank didn’t bother resisting rolling his eyes. The creature on his right was loud, unsightly, and creepy as heck. The blank, empty black eyes seemed to stare into his soul as he accidently met the thing’s searching gaze. He shuddered, and pointedly turned his back to it, facing his human fellow chef.

“Think you’re suited up for the day?” he casually asked, seemingly unintentionally tugging the collar of his suit as he surveyed the other man’s dress. Plaid shirt, jeans, cutthroat kitchen apron – hmph.

The other fellow – Dave, or something equally plebian, let out a hearty laugh. “I think I’m quite well suited for cooking, thanks, but don’t you have a business meeting to be getting to?”

Hank sniffed, not bothering with a comeback. It seemed that neither of his temporary neighbors would be worth speaking to in the least. He couldn’t help flinching as the skeleton started shouting again, animatedly talking with the woman at the other end. He was quite ready for the host to come out and for this farce to begin.

Alton did appear, with a casual suit and a bombastic attitude – quite the match for the figurative bombs he would be dropping throughout the show. At the beginning of the round, he’d assign a dish, and they’d have 60 seconds to collect absolutely everything they would need to cook said dish from the walk-in cupboard – and they’d only have seconds to compose their mental grocery list.

Alton finally started talking about what he was looking forward to the most – auctioning off sabotages, where he would be encouraged to buy ridiculous inconveniences for his opponents. They would all be given 25 Grand – likely more than any of these plebeians had ever had in their lives’ – to purchase said items, and whatever was left at the end the winner would take home. Of course, Hank himself had no real need for this money, and was already planning to spend all of it tripping up his unworthy opponents – mostly that ridiculous skeleton and the woman, neither of which had any right to be in the same kitchen as him.

It never even crossed his mind for a single second that he might not succeed, so assured of his victory was he. Not a single other person in the room, save the well-dressed host, was even worthy of a second glance or thought of consideration. No, he was the only one that would claim this culinary victory – and he’d make his ‘opponents’ miserable the entire time through!

Alton opened up his briefcase and began offering out the money – two bundles apiece. As the uncultured savage to his left rubbed the money to his cheek, clearly enjoying the entirely new sensation of wealth against his skin, he daintily picked out his two bundles of cash. He looked upon them with disgust, wondering just how many grimy hands had handled these $100 bills.

Returning to beside the metal table in the center of the open area, the host began speaking. “To start everybody off on a roll, I’d like to see a good, breakfast casserole!” Alton cheerfully exclaimed, bouncing slightly as he spoke. Hank jumped as a shriek of outrage sounded from beside him, and Alton paused in his words.

WAS THAT A PUN?!” the monster exclaimed. Resisting a grimace, Hank pointedly ignored its words. He supposed monsters were far too uneducated and stupid to recognize even the most basic parts of human humor, even of such a low a form as bad puns.

Alton didn’t seem to take offense, though he did seem to be slightly thrown off. “It was indeed a wonderful play on words, only some of the most punny forms of fine humor!” Hank peeked to his right, watching as the skeleton groaned and covered his eyes.

HUMAN, THAT JOKE WAS ALMOST AS BAD AS MY BROTHER’S – IT WAS COMPLETELY BARE BONES! NYEH-HEH-HEH-HEH!” the skeleton cackled and Hank grimaced .

Alton, contrary to Hank, seemed quite pleased by this reaction. “Well then, I hope the skele-ton more that I have won’t break you before you finish your breakfast casserole ! You have 60 seconds to gather everything you’d need to make this delightful dish, starting now!

Startled, Hank was a second behind everyone else in grabbing his basket to go shopping – and thus he had the clearest view of when the skeleton did a front flip right over the judging table. He stared, unbelieving, not moving as time ticked by – only when he realized that all the other chefs had made it into the cupboard did he start forward on his own.

What was that skeleton doing?! He tried not to stop and stare as the skeleton darted around the cupboard, items seemingly flying into his basket of their own accord. He distractedly groped for his next ingredient, unable to ignore the spectacle before him.

“30 seconds remaining!” called a very unwelcome voice from just beyond the cupboard door. Hank felt the panic well up, as he realized he didn’t have half the things he would likely need, and could not for the life of him remember the other half. He began grabbing everything he could get his grubby little hands on.

“10, 9” Nonono- Hank knocked the closest things into his basket and ran out the door, knocking into another contestant and cursing as the collision sent several ingredients flying out of his basket as he fought to make it through the door. “4, 3,” he burst free, panting as he staggered back to his station. “2, 1, time’s up!” Discreetly mopping his sweaty brow, Hank surveyed his spoils of war, and everyone else’s as well. He… technically had everything he needed for a good, refined breakfast casserole.

The skeleton, who seemed just as cheery as could be, had a neatly packed basket full of a random assortment of goods – clearly, he’d just grabbed whatever was closest to hand! Hank ignored the hypocrisy of his own statement, peering around the Halloween prop to see the girl’s basket, and then pointedly looked away. She seemed well-enough prepared, so what. The country hick to his left seemed to have filled his basket with bacon, bacon… and more bacon.

Finally, their host was beginning to roll out the sabotages. Hank licked his lips in anticipation, watching as the symbol of the other’s demise was slowly lowered… and revealed to be a roll of aluminum foil. “Win this, and you can force a chef to give up all of their cooking utensils and pots, and they must instead make their own cooking!  Who’s willing to start off the bid with $500?”

“$1,000!” he cried, and waited to see if anyone would dare challenge him.

“$1,200,” came the drawling voice on his right. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy, surrounded by people who couldn’t recognize their inferiority.

“$2,000,” he bid back, noticing that the skeleton seemed quite unconcerned. He ended up spending $3,500 on his roll of aluminum foil, but was quite pleased at this deal as he debated on which of his foes should suffer first. The man, for daring to challenge him, or the skeleton for being here and existing in the first place. Yes, definitely the skeleton.

He sauntered up to Alton, trading his money for the foil and dropping it on the thing’s station, noting with disdain the cheap and marked up case that held the thing’s now unusable cooking implements. He returned to his station, satisfied, and ready to win another bid. He ignored the skeleton’s words of, “ WOWIE! IT’LL BE JUST LIKE COOKING AT HOME, AFTER UNDYNE AND I DESTROYED ALL OF THE POTS WITH THE FORCE OF OUR COOKING PROWESS!” Was this thing serious?


Hank fumed as the skeleton shaped his cutlery with ease, somehow forming a perfect looking knife and a well-rounded bowl in less than a minute. “ I HAVE A VERY SHARP MEMORY, AND I HAVE ENCOUNTERED QUITE THE NUMBER OF KNIVES, YOU SEE! NYEH!” Just ignore the skeleton. “ WOWIE, MR. HOST-HUMAN, YOU SURE HAVE A LOT OF ALUMINUM FOIL! LET’S SEE WHO CAN WEAR IT BEST!”  Wait, wear it?

Looking up from where his prep work was beginning to come together, Hank saw the judge and the thing both wearing ridiculous looking foil hats. The Judge was wearing something like a pirate hat, and the bag of bones was rocking… an open-faced helmet? Just when did he have time to make that ridiculous thing? Hank had barely even gotten his work laid out properly, yet this thing had already crafted his workstation and costume decorations?

Growling in frustration, Hank was at least pleased to see that the country cad was struggling, if no one else was – thanks to the two other sabotages he’d bought and delivered. Reassured, he returned to his work. He didn’t have all the ingredients that he wanted, but he… probably had enough. Probably.


“Wha- that’s totally cheating!” Hank declared, staring aghast at the pearly blue bones flashed around the skeletons station, dancing to a tune no one else could hear. The clubbed end of one bone was stirring the batter, and the skeleton was using the tip of the other as a sharp knife to slice his vegetables into perfectly sectioned slices. The craziest part was how the spinning bone was doing so without any guidance - it was just moving about on its own!

OH!” The wretched skeleton faced Hank with a beaming smile. “ I SEE THAT YOU HAVE NOTICED THE BEAUTY THAT IS MY CONJURED BONES!” The bony chef paused, a worried look sliding across his face. “ PLEASE DON’T BE JEALOUS, FELLOW CONTESTANT HUMAN! I REALIZE THAT YOU CANNOT SUMMON BRILLIANT BONES OF YOUR OWN, BUT I AM QUITE PREPARED TO LEND YOU SOME OF MINE! A GREAT PERSON AND CHEF, SUCH AS I, MUST ALWAYS BE GENEROUS AND KIND TO OTHERS!

Gritting his teeth, Hank barely resisted spitting at the stupid, ugly monstrosity beside him. “I wouldn’t touch any of your filthy bones if you paid me.” Unnoticed by any of the contestants, most especially Hank who was once again doing his best to ignore everything around him, Alton’s eyes glinted with a brilliant, sadistic new idea.


Hank barely hid the curl of his lip into a sneer as the judge appeared – a woman, of all things.

The judge finally made her decision after trying each dish –  she ‘had to’ let the farmer go. Hank watched as the man returned his untouched cash to Alton, calmly accepting his fate and giving Alton a ‘manly’ handshake. Of course Hank had won this round – and he fully expected to win the next two and humiliate everyone else along the way.

Finally, the round was finished, and they had a short break to talk to the cameras while the next round was prepared.


Cynthia’s new friend helped her stand up, using a strength at odds with his skeletal appearance to bring her to her feet as they walked together back to the main room. They’d had a relatively quiet and quite friendly chat between the rounds, but now it was time to return.

Alton waltzed back in with full aplomb, wearing what seemed to be a pinstripe suit at first glance – until Cynthia realized the stripes were actually noodles hanging onto his suit. “Welcome back contestants, and get ready for round two! It’s certain to tie you up into knots, and leave someone stranded! We’re going for a true classic today – spaghetti!”

Papyrus squealed in glee beside her and she gave him a smile, already knowing of his love for the pasta dish. She couldn’t help but take satisfaction on how the sleezeball skittered away in startlement.

“Indeed! You are free to create any variety of spaghetti you wish, this traditionally meaty pasta dish! We have all the ingredients you could need, and your shopping time begins… now.

Cynthia darted off after Papyrus, falling behind as he used the table to launch himself further forward, sketching the list in her head and the best way to grab each item as fast as she could. Having children and anticipating their needs had prepared her for this, and she was at a huge advantage to the business-chef that was only slightly lagging this time.

Making her way back to her station at a much more sedate pace than she had left it, Cynthia double checked that she had grabbed everything that she wanted for her chicken alfredo spaghetti – she did. A glance to the side told her that both of her fellow chefs had collected plenty as well. She thought back to the first round and couldn’t help but to snicker – Hank had forgotten plenty of things in the beginning rush, and she could easily overhear his muttered cursing whenever he came across his missing ingredients.

Turning her attention back to the host, she braced herself for the first sabotage to come. “Well, now that we’ve spent time together and found ourselves closer together, I think it’s time to get closer still!” Alton knocked on the panel, waiting for the item to be lowered before he revealed – a length of rope. Cynthia paled, memories flashing before her eyes. Ropes never meant anything fun for her. “Win this auction, and you can force your opponents to be tied together! They will be forced to cook together, work together, and stick closer than a strand of spaghetti that was left in a pot overnight. Starting bid at-“

“$2,000!” Hank interrupted once again, and she would have glared had she not been silent with fear. She saw Papyrus glance at her out of the corner of his eye, and watched as the eye socket closest to her slowly closed, then reopened. Neither of them said anything.

“Opening bid at $2,000, anyone willing to give me 21-hundred? Anyone, anyone? Going once, going twice – sold, to the gentlemen in the boring suit for two thousand dollars!” She smiled weakly – compared to the host’s noodle suit, Hank’s suit was rather boring, if more expensive than what she spent on groceries in a month. There was a reason she was competing for a cash prize, despite going up on TV against others being entirely new for her.

“Now, I know that this show can be a bit of a cat-astrophe sometimes…” Alton trailed off, opening the panel to reveal a cat headband. “But I was feline like I couldn’t paws-ibly resist! Win this bid, and you can force your opponent to dress up with these adorable cat ears, a matching cat tail,” he continued, pulling up a long tail from beneath the table – it had to be at least 4 feet of solid black faux-fur! “And of course, the cutest part of cats – their little paws!” He ducked his hands under the table once more, this time arising with giant, fluffy gloves that completely encapsulated his hands. “As sweet as they look, these don’t make for the easiest cooking experience! Who’s willing to buy the best catsuit seen on this show yet?”

“$2,000!” Hank predictably exclaimed.

Cynthia decided that this was one outfit she was willing to spend money on, if only for the sheer humiliation value in forcing the uptight man into it. “2,500!”

Hank still ended up being the winner, but he spent a full 5k on a fursuit – and he ended up giving it to Papyrus, who immediately donned the admittedly adorable outfit, beaming all the while. She was pretty sure Hank only had about 11k left.

“Now, people, don’t get yourselves tied into a knot; we’ve got a giant pile of noodles right here that have done that already!” Cynthia groaned as she a wagon with a proper Gordian’s Noodle Knot roll into the center of the room. “Win this auction, and the chef of your choice will have to untangle this knot before they are able to begin cooking!”

She fought long, and Papyrus fought hard, but they both backed down when Hank bid a whopping ten thousand dollars on the ridiculous time waster. He had to be down to the last of his money – he had successfully won every bid so far, often paying exorbitant sums to do so. To her dismay, she was the one gifted with the lovely time waster.

“Now, I know we had someone who wouldn’t pay to touch our friendly skeleton’s bones - but how about we have someone else pay for it?“ Alton called out, this time not revealing anything from the behind the screen. So this was why Papyrus had been called away separately – so that he could give permission for this.

“$1,500!” She called out, before Hank could even try. If she was right…

“$2,000!” He bid back, and she felt her heart sink. Was she wrong?

AAAANK,” Alton called, doing a remarkable impression of an incorrect buzzer. “You, my besuited gentleman, are only in possession of $1,500 – something new to you, I’m sure.” Hank stared, slack jawed, and Cynthia felt the rising tides of victory. “Now, unless someone else can pay at least sixteen-hundred dollars, this round is going to this lady right here – no? Going once, going twice – are you sure you don’t want to speak up again, Hank – sold, to Cynthia! Please approach your fellow contestant for his magic touch, and then confiscate all your victim’s knives, spoons, whisks, and other various implements.

Cynthia did so with great glee, taking the two large bones and handing them over to Hank, who still had a horrified look on his stunned face.

“Now, chefs, two of you are ready to proceed to cooking, and one of you is to remain here with me. As soon as this lovely lady finished, she and our resident monster will be strung together tighter than the red strings of fate!” Cynthia couldn’t help but shudder – at the thought of being tied up, and the thought of being tied to another person like that. “On my mark… go!”

She paused for a moment in thought, then nodded. “Wait one moment, please.” She approached the wagon with her longest, sharpest knife. “The Gordian knot couldn’t be solved, until…” With a few sharp slices, she began carving the ball into two. “Until the knot was split.” Noodles fell to either side, losing shape as their knot came undone.

Alton groaned theatrically. “At this rate, you’ll finish the task in a tenth of the time it took to set it up!” She flashed him a smile, but didn’t reply as she was too busy straightening out the short strands on the table before her, smearing them out in great handfuls and shaking them straight.

“Just have to raise them properly, keep them on the straight and narrow,” She quipped. “Make them realize the consequences if they don’t straighten out.

All too soon, she was back in front of her cooking station, and she realized that she had only hastened the arrival of the dreaded rope. This was a Gordian knot she couldn’t cut. Papyrus cheerful greeting helped soothe her nerves, and she managed to keep her breathing steady as an extra helper loosely tied them together.

“ARE YOU READY, HUMAN PARTNER?” She nodded, anchoring her perceptions on his solid voice to fend off flashbacks. “ AS I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, HAVE HAD A HEAD START AND CAN CLEARLY SUCCEED DESPITE ANY DIFFICLUTIES, I INSIST THAT WE HEAD TO YOUR STATION FIRST!”

“Thanks, Papyrus,” she offered him a small smile as they toddled over to her station. “Just let me know when you’re ready to switch back, alright? We want to be sure that both of our dishes succeed.” They were united in a single purpose – take down the most unlikeable person in the room, and send him home crying.

Looking over at the disgruntled face of said ‘foe’, she laughed at how he seemed to be trying his best to touch the lowest amount of surface area of the lightly glowing bones .

Hank began to audibly fume, screeching with unmanly terror whenever he touched too much of the magical bone. Everybody else traded eye rolls, though Papyrus seemed to be doing his best to remain dignified and proud, as was befitting of the mascot of monsters.

Someone who wasn’t trying to remain dignified was Alton, busy attaching more noodles to his costume as they worked. Soon, it wasn’t just spaghetti noodles, but penne, rotini, linguini, lasagna, and just about every other noodle that existed. Soon, his outfit was a mishmash of different carbohydrates, and Papyrus actually stopped to grin and give him a giant thumbs up. “ NOTHING CAN TOP PASTA THAT SUIT, HUMAN! SAVE MY OWN COOL OUTFIT OF COURSE, NYEH-HEH-HEH!” The next time Cynthia saw Papyrus’ outfit, it had noodles draped across it in matching reflection to Alton’s outfit, and a noodle circlet around the cat ears which had been taped to his head. The skeleton made the noodle look work .


“I’m sorry, but I have dismiss… Chef Cynthia.” Cynthia nodded, determinedly biting at her lip and refusing to cry. Her new friend had passed, after all, in a sparkling flame of glory. He had to win and destroy that Hank in the next round. She couldn’t hear the judge’s explanation over the pounding refrain in her head, how she was worthless and her cooking was barely even fit for dogs, and-

“Arf!” …She was hearing things now, wasn’t she? She turned slowly, looking for the source of the sound. Happy barking came from behind her station, and then a little white dog popped out – muzzle coated with her spilled spaghetti. Apparently, her meals were fit for dogs – this one certainly seemed to be enjoying it.

NOOOO!!!!” Papyrus cried, sinking to his knees. “ WHY MUST YOU PERSIST IN TORMENTING ME, WHEREVER YOU GO?” The dog just yipped happily, grabbing one of the bones and trotting up to the judge’s table.

“Does this dog belong to you?” The judge, Antonia, asked. She was already petting the dog, which seemed to be preening in the attention, licking it’s chops.

WHAT?!?!” Papyrus yelped. “ OWN THE MEDDLING CANINE? NO ONE OWNS THE ANNOYING DOG – THE ANNOYING DOG OWNS YOU!” In the short amount of time it took Papyrus to speak, A.D. had eaten all of Cynthia’s spaghetti, all of Papyrus’ spaghetti, and had knocked Hank’s weird dish right onto his suit.

“Good dog,” Cynthia whispered to it as it came up to her, and Hank began to scream and rant, all composure long spent. “Very good dog.”


Papyrus was very pleased and somewhat saddened with how this cooking competition was turning out. He had made a new friend! And had fun cooking with said friend! And got to dress up like a cat, which he most certainly did not enjoy at all, nope, and he was definitely not looking forward to seeing Alphys’ reaction when she saw the show!

Yet this brand-new experience had been soured by his other neighbor, the cruel human with the heart of pride and greed. Papyrus was still having fun, still enjoying the novelty of being on TV – he was on television right now! Like Mettaton! – and still so proud of being one of the first monsters that truly showed themselves to the human world. He was monsterkind’s mascot after all, and he needed to present a good face!

Even when Angry-Human attacked him and his new friend, again and again and again. That was the only way the prideful human was still on top – by putting other’s down. It saddened Papyrus, knowing that the human could do better – and knowing that the man would likely refuse to ever try being so.

Still, it had been quite amusing to see the man gaping at his brilliance, clearly impressed by his stunning flips and culinary feats! Perhaps if he was lucky, he would still manage to walk out of here with two new friends!

Papyrus wasn’t worried as Host-Human declared the challenge: Upside-down Pineapple cake. He may not have been the best cook below ground, but he had learned much in the years above – how to cook for humans, how to cook without burning the house down, and how to pay a mortgage! All very exciting things!

Humming happily, Papyrus took his groceries to his workstation and happily set up camp, chopping away, mixing and stirring with exacting precision. The clever yet cruel sabotages were to come in the middle of this final challenge, rather than before! He couldn’t help but be impressed by some of the ideas – and the many ideas of the episodes before this one, his own episode. If he won, he would be the star of the show!!!! Even more widely seen than Mettaton, star of the Underground! Such an incredible new experience… as was this entire adventure!

Fighting together with his ally to defeat the foe, finding the secret treasures hidden in the closet of glorious foods – as soon as he returned home to his brother, he was insisting on getting a matching pantry! – to talking with so many humans and to the camera… and hopefully, he would have the new experience of bringing enough money home for his family. The above-ground had been semi-welcoming, but it wasn’t always… kind. But that’s why Papyrus was here!

“Chefs!” Host-Human called out and Papyrus peeked up, staring in outrage as he saw the Annoying Dog perched on top of the judging table. “I know that sometimes you can’t always find everything you need in the pantry in the limited time you have, so I took the liberty of shopping for you! For a small price, this basket of food is yours to do with as you wish – keep it for yourself or swap out your opponent’s basket!” Papyrus couldn’t help the rush of glee that filled him – his foe had no money with which to win this prize.

The ingredients Host-Human was holding were… somewhat what was necessary for the desert, but they were also of the lowest quality possible. Now, Papyrus knew that he could easily deal with such a handicap – it was no different than struggling for human and foreign ingredients underground, but… wasn’t it almost fair, for a human to be forced to deal with this instead of a monster, for once?

Yes, Papyrus decided. This was karmic justice, of which his brother would approve most heartily! “$1,500!” he cheerfully called out, knowing that the human had no more than that. Indeed, moments later, he gracefully gifted the human with the food, and went to take back the old basket – only to draw back in surprise as the human spat in it and at him.

NOW, HUMAN, THAT IS NO WAY TO REACT,” Papyrus scolded. “ THAT’S NOT THE SPIT-RIT OF THINGS! NYEH-HEH-HEH!” he laughed as he retreated out of range, unwilling to get human slobber on his pearly bones. The dog’s slobber was bad enough!

Several minutes later, Alton spoke up again, while petting the dog. “You know, something interesting about the upside-down pineapple cake is that it’s turned upside-down. I know, who would have guessed? So, I was thinking… how about turning one of you upside down? Whenever you want to work at your station, you must be suspended in this sling and hung upside down at a lovely 45-degree angle. Who would like to-“

“Just give it to the damn skeleton already, you know he’s got the money!” the human beside him snarled out. Papyrus didn’t know that humans could turn that shade of purple – he was learning new things everyday!

“Well, alright! Papyrus, would you like to place your bid, please?” Papyrus somewhat uncertainly offered the expected 15-hundred, but he wasn’t sure about the action. Would the human be okay? He hadn’t been planning on bidding; as a monster, he was much more suited to physical difficulties, and he could still use magic to assist in his cooking. But if the other insisted…

With a deep scowl, the human was strapped into a deceptively simple rig, whereupon the same person that had tied him together slowly rotated the contraption until the human was at a very awkward looking angle. Papyrus felt a bit bad, but the human had quite literally asked for it!

No more sabotages came, but no more were necessary. The other human was hissing and spitting, no longer biting back his vitriol. Specks of spit landed in his…cake, as he attempted to bake. Papyrus felt pity for this poor human – if he could not get over himself, he would have absolutely nothing – nothing to show, nothing to hold onto, nothing to be proud of.

…and at the moment, the human had absolutely no pride whatsoever. He was red in the face, puffy in the cheeks, angry in the eyes, and empty in the money pocket. Quite frankly, it was everything he asked for and deserved – and the helper he had to ask to lift him each time was a female human! Which, for some reason, this male human despised.

He had to ask her nicely, too, or she’d dump him entirely on his head. It took him quite a few tries to figure this out! Papyrus shook his head at the lack of decency, and exchanged a high-five with the girl as he passed. He was so hip and with the times!

Papyrus grinned and the man let out a new stream of curses as one of his pans caught fire. Undyne would approve!


Papyrus watched with anticipation as Judge-human – different than judge-monster, who was Sans and had an entirely different job than this human judge – took a bite of his cake. He let out a short protest – no, not a squawk! Not at all! – as she then fed a bite to the dog that had successfully pulled off the Puppy Eyes Maneuver, ™. Papyrus could never get that look to work on anyone other than his brother – it wasn’t fair!

“Well, chefs, I have to say this is one of my easiest choices,” the judge said as she pulled back. Both she and papyrus looked over at his competition – a sad, burned and crumbling cake that was falling apart as they watched. The dog had refused to eat it when offered – Papyrus supposed that the dog did clearly have good taste, only going after the finest bones and cuisine – his, of course.

“And with that, I am proud to say that you, chef Papyrus, are the winner of cutthroat kitchen!” She said, and the dog let out a happy yowl as Papyrus screeched with joy.

YES! YES! SANS, I DID IT! I WON! I WON!” Papyrus jumped up and pulled the judge into a hug, and then the host. “ I ACTUALLY WON AT COOKING! I ACTUALLY WON IN A HUMAN SHOW! I MEAN, OF COURSE I’D WIN – I’M CLEARLY THE COOLEST MONSTER HERE – BUT… I WON!!!” Papyrus began to dance, only to be interrupted as A.D. started to growl.

“You rotten little-“ clearly the other human did not like losing, as he was approaching Papyrus with murder clear in his eyes. Papyrus slowed his celebrating and sighed – there was nothing so trying to his patience as a human trying to murder him.

*tinkle tinkle tinkle* Everybody stopped, as a rain of yellow liquid splashed down on the approaching human. He roared and launched himself forward, only to slip in the doggy residue and land face first in his ‘cake’.

Security came in, and quickly removed the stinking human, leaving Papyrus to his victory. Well! That had certainly been new!