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The Pelican and his Knave

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Entry #1
Sans (ain’t no way i’m writing “Sansone-Merryweather Gaster” on paper unless i have to, ‘kay?)
Mr. Moran
Honors English 11-4
8 October 2014

*ah, man.
*so my teacher, mr. moran (you probably already know that), wanted us to become “full-fledged students, all ready for the working world”. so he didn't give us a lesson on paying taxes. didn't give us job shadowing or a book to read about taxes or job shadowing. he handed us this journal. i have no idea why. but he wants us to write at least 2,500 words per entry. thank the lord it ain’t 2,500 words every day. i’d hate to write that.
*he’s givin’ us prompts an’ all that, but to be honest, i’ve been in too many honors english classes, an’ i know how this goes. just a five-second glance at our paper with phenomenal 20/80 vision (mine isn’t that better) and i’m good. so i’m just gonna write whatever pops to mind. because i have to get 2,500 words out, that’s why. whether or not you enjoy it is up to you.
*but i’d appreciate it if you do.
*i need the grade.
*i wanna get into a college someday.
*woah, woah, i know. “not harvard?” people ask. “not yale?” people ask. “not mit?” (okay, i might do mit. might. bet you read that wrong.) yep. just a college. for someone with my… um… situation, that’s big.
*and… you’ll see why later, i guess.
*this is gonna be… a little weird, okay?
*this whole thing.
*so settle down, i guess. get comfy. get your big gulps from 7-eleven (yes, my family knows what these are now), stretch out all your bones from skull to phalanges, do whatever you need to do. because this is gonna be a long, long story. and i mean a long one. one that’ll involve a lot of drama, tears, and all the other angst i’m sure you’re tired of. stuff like burnt spaghetti, forgetting to teleport in time and falling all the way down the stairs, and discovering that my dad is acting a lot more like a teenager than i already thought he was. oh yeah, there’ll also be a few funnies so we don’t all go bonkers.
*but that’s me. that’s my story. that’s how it is.
*ah, jeez. this sounds so goddang narcissistic. i don’t think before i talk, i know.
*i’ll try not to butt in too much, y’know? i tend to be overblown. i have a lot to say, but i kinda tend to forget about other people have in their lives. part of being a judge, i guess. you gotta be judgemental sometimes.
*but oh well. here we go.
*i’m gonna burn in hell for this.
*so it’s six o’clock in the mornin’. monday mornin’, of all times. i mean, why start anywhere else? the teacher gave me this thing so i could jot stuff down, i guess. he said to “have one entry by first period on monday, and- get this STUPID plaid whoopie cushion off of my chair!” even though i hate plaid.
*we live in this little town smack dab in the middle of a state called “massachusetts”. it’s really, really close to something called the “appalachian range” that mt. ebott was part of.
*bear with me with all these quotations here, it’s only been ‘bout a month since we moved up here from the mountain.
*it's super nice. lots of parks, lots of restaurants, lots of charming little places you can play chess in, lots of open spaces, wide open to dunk-
*in… milk.
*from walmart.
*and the cookies are also from walmart.
*ah, jeez.
*frisk isn’t the best kid. i mean, the reset button is still hovering over me, ready to drown out everything i’ve ever wanted. but...I guess my bro's right. they could be a better person. if they just tried.
*if they just tried.
*heh...guess they have my attitude, then.
*old ladies call our town “quaint”, and kids call it “rednecky” even though we’re smack dab in the north, where there’s a heckton of snow. even though it’s october, an’ just the beginning of october, i’m hoping to god it ain’t a snow day, because that would cause my brain to explode because of how snowdin looks at the beginning of the resets i hate resets i hate resets i hate resets i hate them i hate them ihatethemIHATETHEM, and i’d probably be crying on the floor in front of my dad and bro. which would not be good.
*so i open the window. it ain’t a snow day. thank you so much, god. i guess.
*i try not to look at mirrors. y’know? i mean, most of the time i can’t. too short to see anything other than the top of my skull when i try. and i guess that’s good. i don’t like to look at myself. brings too much narcissism. but i have to sometimes when i’m passing by ‘em, and i sometimes look at them and notice how far my eyebags stretch. that’s what gets me to look away.
*dad says i need to start drinking coffee. But he buys a new mug every month, without fail.
* his eyebags are longer.
*so i walk outta the room. i mean, i’ve gotta.
*”hey dad.”
*scientists can be so smart, but so, so, so adorably out of touch. at least my dad is.
*by the way, mr. moran, don’t worry. his voice ain’t that loud, teach. really. he’s just kinda louder than me. louder than some of the other kids at school i chill with. then again, i chill with some pretty quiet people.
*”pretty good, dad.”
*i chuckle. i do that a lot.
*”nothin’... nothin’ really, dad.”
*and i don’t even know i’m lyin’ until i catch a glance of my four foot three self in the tv screen an’ realize i can see the eyebags all the way from over here.
*nothin’ really. welp.
*i move away from my dad, take a bowl of cereal, an’ i can’t help but smile a little as the buses go right by. right by, an’ they’ve been doing it since i was asleep. what a way to avoid the kids at the bus stop, amiright?
*oh, wait.
*i’ve gotta tell you about it later (should mr. moran even have the time to read this.)
*i head off to brush my teeth. god, it hurts. and it has to be mechanical. i gotta sort of bite down on the toothbrush just so i don’t yell and wake up my bro sleepin’ in the room right next to me. there’s this stupid thing i apparently have that makes me… well… short. and makes a lot of excuses as to why my bones are so messed up.
*don't worry, it's not a super horrible terminal condition that anyone has to worry about. it's just...annoying sometimes. like allergies. nobody freaks over allergies.
*it’s done.
*what else is there to say?
*so i finish up, open the door next to me, an’ the little guitar he has in the corner is still in just the right place for me to stare at every time i go in. every mornin’. layin’ on the bed is the one person who keeps me goin’. or at least the one who keeps me goin’ the most.
*”hey, pap. just goin’ off to school. wanted to say-”
*one of his eyes pops right open, just like the opening of a soda can.
*i love my bro.
*yeah. i know. i’m pretty quiet. if my bro can be louder than me, then i pretty much can’t be as loud as anyone, y’know?
*”heh heh, looks like it, bro. welp, seeya.”
*so i snap my fingers.
*and i’m at school.
*i know. it’s quick. which is why i have to do it somewhere quiet. somewhere where there’s not a lot of people. because a lot of people think of me as weird. super weird. weird enough to stuff my locker enough with tshirts to jam it. not like i needed that locker anyway. teleporting sure won’t help out my “weird” reputation. but i think they’re kinda weird too. they pahk their cahs in the pahking laht, and then they wahlk to school, hoping to get into hahvahd. all day they’re talkin’ like that, and here am i.
*i know i might be mean.
*but i don’t mean to be, y’know? i’ve just met these people.
*and besides, lots of people say i have some sort of weird british-irish-french-european accent, but then again, that’s where the people who forced us down the mountain in the first place came from all the way back in those medieval times. yeah, i know. sheesh. that’s why i have to go someplace quiet.
*and that’s why i’m on the school roof.
*oh, calm down. the giant stain of god-knows-what has been up here next to me since my friends’ dads went to this school, and the door has enough rust on it for lightning mcqueen to fanboy over it and advertise one of his “rust-EZE!” commercials. i’m fine.
*i like to sit here sometimes. even though class is in fifteen or so minutes, that’s still fifteen or so minutes i can get up here. to get away from it. to say, “hey, god. or ancestors. or zeus. or anyone from a percy jackson book. whoever’s there. it’s me again. ya boi. thanks again for letting me, um, go forwards, y’know?
*” god, zeus, whatever... it's not often i have a reset this unique. with dad in the mix and me livin’ to go to school, maybe college? ‘preciate it. really. i do.”
* it makes me feel ridiculous. i mean, frisk’s the one that stopped it. i should be thanking ‘em. but it’s not like a big ol’ junior like me can go all swat on a poor little fourth-grader every morning.
*so i just sit here.
*and… not be grateful.
*i mean… i don’t want to butt in, but…isn’t it okay to not feel grateful sometimes?
*you'll know why later, mr. moran.
*my dad has always said to be grateful, always said to point out all of the things that went right over the dinner table an’ all that. but aren’t there some reasons not to be grateful? at least a little?
*...i dunno.
*like I said, you might find out why later.
* i don’t want to depress anyone any more than they are. i mean, i’m a comedian. i can’t be like that.
*ah, c’mon, me. i have to stop being lazy.
*time for school, i guess.
*so i hop off the roof an’ i'm striding around the school, heading towards the three trailers in the back, thinking, “hey, today just might be a good day today!” because thank god i didn’t wake up and the next day was a reset, taking me back to stupid september 25. y’know what i’m saying? and besides, this is my history class, and my history class is amazing. you have anna. no, she’s not my girlfriend.
*she used to live in snowdin, right near me, where they ran a fancy little hotel that forgets to leave little mints under the pillow but makes up for it with its nice warm fireplace. y’know her? yeah, the bunny. yeah, that’s her. yeah, she has a name.
*anna is whip-smart. thinks like i do. guess that makes me whip- smart, but, heh, i'm an idiot for being as lazy as i am. she takes the history papers the teachers give to us with a big fat giant grain of salt and researches in her free time (which is a practice i’ve kinda copied off of her. whoops.).
*other than anna, though, you have a few human kids. almost all juniors like me, but a few college kids comin’ over from boston with their pahked cahs I don't have to worry about because of my stupid teleporting. kids i know, but not well. i mean, i’ve partnered with them once or twice this year already. it’s not a big class. you have sandra and leon and lisa and jeanette and brett and lindsay and georgia and molly and rex and claire and… y’ get the picture. lots i know. not a lot of friends. done. over with.
*so i’m walkin’ in the door, the path kinda empty. actually, a lot empty. try “no kids on it” empty. i’m thinkin’ a lot of these kids go to the bathroom whenever we have class (an’ i may have waltzed in the bathroom once or twice with fifteen beady eyes staring at me from my class).
*but there’s somethin’ different.
*there’s a poster on the wall.
*all in red.
*my history teacher, mr. gray, never puts anything in red. too off-putting, he says.
*signed by the Human Security Organization.
*in short?
*without teachers...
*it’s just anna and i here.
*but another look to the right brings me to the Flood, all janpacking into the other trailers. the Flood is basically what the humans of the school call monsters. somethin’ about us “flooding into society and stealing jobs from the economy, flooding everything we hold dear.”
*but hey. cool name.
*there's about one hundred or so kids here who are Flood members, enough to fill up three whole classrooms to the brim. four monsters here, too, who are considered teachers and honorary Flood members, but i didn't hear anything about the new implementation affecting them at all. same thing with them. a lot of them know me, only a few are friends. that simple. there are a few i want to say hi to, like faun or Nacarat. but something inside of me kinda...stops me.
*so i trudge in.
*anna’s crying.
*she never cries.
* “I’ve saw this coming, Sans, saw it coming for such a long time, it all started when we came up here, and everyone just started treating us like we were just dirt and now we can’t even be together at school and why did we ever come up here and…”
*ah, sheesh. i'm not a therapist, y’know? i mean, being with alphs taught me one or two things, but i'm nowhere near close to handling this. she's my friend (again, not my girlfriend ya freaks), but while she has all of her other therapist-y friends, i'm the suckiest one.
*”s'okay. we'll all handle this for sure. we just gotta, y'know, tough it out. maybe tell someone about it. s'okay.”
*”It's not. It's not okay, Sans, just look at that sign and tell me it is.”
*for a minute… we just sit there.
*and sit there.
*and… not be grateful.

Chapter Text

Entry #2
Sans (still not Sansone-Merryweather Gaster, wouldn’t y’know)
Mr. Maron’s Honors English 11-4
9 October 2014 (the day i made this entry, not the day in the entry)

*so a few minutes pass by. me just standin’ there, the stupid red paper flyin’ in the wind. i’m kinda hopin’ it flies off. i don't try to comfort anna, seeing how blatantly successful that was last time. anna spends a few minutes tryin’ to call some of her friends, but nothin’ seems to work. signal is dead.
*heh. figures. that happens in the trailers.
*maybe that’s why-
*there’s a little noise comin’ from the speakers, an’ the speaker announces everythin’ word by word, an’ one of the class’ lights flicker at the amount of kids that have to get up. i don’t hear anythin’. just anna cryin’ a bit.
*but the kids start getting louder an’ louder an’...
*yeah. y'know the drill.
*the door opens, an’ in comes alla these flood kids, an’ the floodgates open, so to speak. of course, all of them come rushin’ in. half of ‘em go right to anna.
*me. ”guys, give her space, give her space!”
*i manage to take it down to about a fourth of the kids that come in, but it’s a heckuva lot better than it was before.
*it’s a hodgepodge of kids here. not just juniors like me, but all across different grades. heck, it’s all the monsters in the school, so the trailer is pretty much filled to the brim. an’ this is just the overflow. all of these kids are actually supposed to be back in the other trailers. so how they’ll get their lessons done, i don’t know. i don’t know.
*so you have the kids at the back who love to hate pretty much everything they see, an’ there’s this little part of me, as much as i just want to drive it away, that wants to join them.
*but, heh, i’m a comedian.
*i can’t do that. besides, that’d be too emo of me.
*other than that, you have the kids who love their cellphones more than they love their own parents. then you have the artists (if i drew a self portrait, it would look like an eight year old on bath salts drew it), who love their drawing tablets more than they love their own parents. then you have the nerds, the hardcore nerds, even nerdier than a fuddy duddy like i can ever hope to be, who love their computers more than their own parents.
*god, it’s turning into a best buy here.
*then you have the kids whose pride an’ joy is basketball, like the entire sport is their kid. then you have the kids who can’t really fit in with anyone an’ created their own thing like that.
*but then you have the kids scattered a bit to the right. the low-key nerds, who think their brains aren’t really a thing to show off but a thing to try their best with. so i can dig that. i can dig that. they’re faun an’ nacarat, the two monsters in this place i know the most. heck, they both used to live with me back in snowdin.
*but the whole thing seems kinda...dim? depressed? i dunno. but it seems like everything they were sayin', everything that was makin’ them all bubbly like the movies show high-schoolers, everythin’ that had them talkin’ about the latest apps or movies or sports scores or whatever kinda thing they wanted…
*they all kinda stopped.
*one kid in the back, a little troublemaker that's not much taller than me (and that's not much at all, i'm barely over four oh) starts to say some really mean things about humans. even cusses them out. an’ for a sec, i don't blame him. i mean, frisk wasn’t the one who did this. they aren’t old enough.
*anna looks calm enough, what with her therapist-y sort of troupe surroundin’ her an’ all, so i heft my way back to the back of the room with nacarat an’ faun. an’ one of the kids, one that’s basketball- obsessed, the type of kid the school loves an’ the type of kid the school loves to publicize, heads towards the door to keep an eye out for our history teacher. he kinda looks like a bouncer, all spread-eagle an’ ready to fight, all at the same time.
*nacarat leans a bit. does a once-over on one of the windows, just to make sure there aren’t any teachers comin’ to hear us trash-talkin’ humans. even though we're nowhere near close to the crap they say about us on the daily. stuff like “skinny” for us skeletons an’ “mutt” for the goats. in fact, they use “mutt” for pretty much everythin’. some other hearty names include “rainbow babies”, “freakies”, an’ other words i can’t say in a school journal.
*nacarat. ”Coast looks clear.”
*faun. ”Well, of course, Nacarat.”
*she kinda fans her little scarf like it has a bit of dirt on it. as if she even dared to be, y’know, that imperfect.
*faun. “Class doesn't even start for the next two minutes.”
*nacarat. ”Two minutes until the teachers come.”
*me. “an’ two minutes ‘till we have our very first class without a single human in sight. least i won’t get egged so much by them i can start cookin’ omelets, amiright?” i make sure to smile just in case they get the wrong idea an’ think i’m mopin’. an’ since that smile is there a lot, there’s pretty much no way they will.
*they laugh a bit. almost like they forgot what happened for a second, which is kinda the point. almost makes me want to joke some more. but they kinda stop talkin’ after that, so i make sure to kinda stop’ talkin’, too.
*nacarat. “But still, guys. This sucks.”
*faun. “Yeah, tell me about it.”
*so we keep on standin’ there for the next two minutes, a full one hundred an’ twenty seconds. an’ we keep on standin’ there. i kinda expect a bunch of other conversations to start startin’ an’ stoppin’, a big huge mumble, but they never do.
*an’ we keep on not bein’ grateful. Except for, y’know, the eggin’ part.
*because even though we saw this all comin’, saw it comin’ from a mile away, ready to speed into our little group of trailers like a tornado in a… well… trailer park… it still hits us just as fast and just as furious as a tornado would have.
*look. i’m not tryin’ to be overcomplainin’ here like some monsters i know are. i’m not tryin’ to be like them at all. i’m just tryin’ to keep on goin’, an’ tryin’ to keep on goin’ as much as i can. for this journal-thing, i’m just tryin’ to tell what’s goin’ on.
*you know what i’m sayin’?
*nacarat does another once-over at the window. just to make sure it isn’t too awkward. but i’m not too sure if it’s “awkward” or “somber” that he’s goin’ for. come to think of it, i’m not too sure if this is true for anyone else, either. even my judge-y shtuff is starting to get discombobulated.
*anyway, so nacarat does another once-over at the window. an’ with another second, faun yells, “Guys, guys, bail out! It’s Mr. Hunt!” an’ the kids know better than to not sprint over to the other trailer, an’ it’s just me an’ anna again.
*oh, yeah. she’s furious.
*so i go over there and start to poke her a bit, start off with a little “c’mon, c’mon, anna, the teacher’s coming, y’know how much he…” an’ i just trail off right there because i know if i go any more, then anna will start to scream at me at how much i need to stand up to ‘im an’ ask me “What good are your bones if you’re not going to use them, damn it!” even though i’ve told her that every time i use ‘em, it hurtsbeyondBELIEF, an’ she’s not change tone when the teacher comes in.
*so i keep on sittin’ there, keep on tryin’ to tell her somethin’, but then the door creaks open.
*mr. hunt.
*look, mr. maron. i know i’m writing this for your english class an’ all, but on the off chance that you’re readin’ offa this instead of skimmin’ everyone’s papers an’ just glancin’ over mine, i want you to know this. i don’t wanna trash talk him. but, y’know, sometimes people get a little extreme. kinda how like you can’t help but laugh at a guy who falls on screen. except this ain’t funny. not at all. not at all.
*mr. hunt is a human, as rude as it sounds to say it. look, i’ve got nothin’ against humans, but mr. hunt is a pretty good example of the bottom of the barrel when it comes to ‘em. he has the long, tea-colored ponytail, flannel, kinda looks british if it weren’t for the chest hairs and the bottom of his gut always pokin’ out from his shirts.
*an’ whenever he talks, his voice gets so loud his face turns into a tomato. if it were filled up with air and hooked up to a bike pump for even more air and then had justin beiber’s “baby” blasted into it. an’ speakin’ of his voice, he loves to cuss. now, if you’ve been reading, mr. moran (you probably haven’t), you probably know that i’m a guy that’s not accustomed to cussin’. at least in a school journal, that is. that might land me in a lot of trouble. but seriously, in the real school world, if you line me up with a bunch of other juniors, not only will i be shorter than them (BY A LOT), let’s just say that the taller they get, the more they curse.
*oh, yeah. back to mr. hunt.
*so mr. hunt gets his hammy hands on the door and bites on a piece of beef jerky he probably stole from the ag department, right? an’ he slams the door, an’ anna looks at him like HE’S a fresh slice of beef jerky, an’ mr. hunt looks at her like she’s a piece of, well, rabbit meat. neither of them know when to back down, really.
*so i guess i gotta not back down, either. at least now now.
*”hey. hunter.” my little nickname for him. anna calls him fred, but i’m not too sure if i want to branch off that far yet.
*mr. hunt. ”Whaddya want, ya no-good skinny?”
*haha. very funny. we’re skeletons, so we have to be skinny. hilarious. hilarious enough for you humies to be using it for skeletons since we came up the mountain. i’m a comedian, so i guess you’re a comedian too.
*anna looks hopping mad. but i just stare right back.
*”how are you likin’ the new rule? makes you feel good, don’t it?”
*mr. hunt. “You’re damn right it makes me feel good, skinny. Y’all hafta get out of everyone else’s hair from now on during class. And YA…”
*anna’s nose twitches a little while mr. hunt stares at her, but she tries to hide it. heh. kinda reminds me of, well, me.
*”YA haven’t noticed what we have outside for a nice lil’ bathroom, haven’t ya? A urinal. Just for ya, sweetheart.”
*anna’s mouth is a little open, like she wants to say somethin’. i know the rules. i’ve been in too many chess games with pap to not know to be one step ahead of the other guy. an’ i know what she’s gonna say this time. “Well, sunshine, tough luck. Nothing in that red letter outside said anything about during lunchtime.”
*but she does say something. heh. guess i have to play chess a bit more often.
*”Haven’t you thought about not bragging and, you know, teaching history? Maybe it’s in your job description.”
*he darts his eyes to the corner to a big, fat security camera with big, fat letters spellin’ “HUMAN SECURITY ORGANIZATION”.
*mr. hunt. “Fine, girl. Fine. But we ain’t done. Not by a long shot.”
*welp, wouldn’t you know it. all mr. hunt does is flip on some sort of movie about the three branches of government. nothin’ i didn’t hafta learn before in order to pass the “human-mutual citizenship tests” in order to be in this school. after about five minutes, mr. hunt passes out on the chair and starts snorin’ his big beer belly snore, an’ anna wastes no time flippin’ out her computer an’ reserachin’ for herself, an’ every time there’s that little pause in between the whistle that ends mr. hunt’s snore an’ the snorting sound that starts it, i hear anna mutterin’ somethin’ under her breath, somethin’ angry. so i try and teleport back there, hopin’ to god she didn’t see me leave from the chair in front of her, an’ notice she’s researchin’ the human-monster war, gettin’ frustrated because the school blocked almost everythin’ she looks at.
*after about five minutes of goin’ through page after page of this bull, she mutters a little, “If you’re going to teleport, Sans, then please, please teleport the both of us out of here.”
*look. i'm a judge. i have a special knack for tellin’ if people are jokin’ or not. heck, one of my jobs is to tell jokes an’ then act like i’m serious, that i’m just jokin’. i even do it in front of paps all of the time. an’ judgin’ by the the little mutterin’ she’s doin’, it’s not a joke. not at all.
*which is why i teleport straight into the hallway with the girl’s bathrooms.
*Anna. ”Goddammit, Sans.”
*she kinda punches me a little, an’ i pretend to be all hurt an’ chucklin’, when really, i’m lookin’ to the left an’ the right, puttin’ up my hood even though the school tells us from day one that “ABSOLUTELY NO HOODS ARE TO BE WORN OVER STUDENTS’ HEADS INDOORS.” but, hey, it’s a little better for ‘em thinkin’ i’m a hoodlum than a… skinny, amiright?
*so after a few minutes, we both go back inside, an’ just as i thought, hunter is still nappin’ his little nap, an’ the video is still playin’.
*me. “hey, wanna slip off to the cafeteria? have a hotdog, maybe?”
*another playful little punch. She laughs a little, keepin’ it quiet so hunter doesn’t wake up. “No, what do you think? I’m not going to skip class just for that. Maybe if we went in there and picked out the differences between human and monster education at this point… maybe… maybe…”
*she settles back down to her computer. heh.
*as much as i hate to say this, hunter’s snore is startin’ to look mighty enticing. i mean, i may have lost a few hours of sleep last night. just a few. thinkin’ it’s goin’ to be a snow day the next mornin’ does that to you.
*so i plop my head on the desk, an’ i’m out.

Chapter Text

Entry #3
Sans (not goin’ to say it anymore after this, but there’s no way, absolutely no way, that i’m puttin’ down sansone-merryweather gaster as my name.)
Mr. Maron
Honors English 11-4
9 October 2014

*so the bell rings, an’ anna springs out of her seat like, um, a rabbit, an’ hunter’s still snorin’ away, an’ i teleport my way out.
*hey. they didn’t say nothin’ about goin’ in the school in between classes, did they?
*still, i make sure to steer clear of nacarat an’ faun an’ anna just ‘cuz more monsters might mean more teachers springin’ on to us. but i still kinda tilt my head towards where they’re still supposed to be goin’.
*might be the cafeteria. heh. the hell if i know.
*so i’m cranin’ my neck, right? an’ cranin, an’ cranin, an’ there’s a boom, an’ all of a sudden, i stop goin’ forwards.
*turns out, i smacked right into a locker.
*look. when i do somethin’ klutzy, it’s usually ‘cuz i’m tryna be funny. heh, i found what i just did pretty damn funny. an’ when i’m not an’ i’m just a klutz for the sake of bein’ a klutz, i usually try to pass it off. make people laugh, y’know?
*so, yeah. they laugh. they laugh a lot. they laugh like santa after eatin’ a triple chocolate cake. an’ at first, i’m under a big joke too. i take a bow, all romeo-an’-juliet style, an’ all of that, like a real actor, right in front of’em, an’ they keep on laughin’. laughin’ and laughin’, huge guffawing.
*but then their guffawin’ starts bitin’. an’ that’s when everything breaks loose. it’s just bits an’ pieces.
*”Do that again, skinny!”
*”I bet everyone’s like that where you came from.”
*”Go home!”
*they’re just words, nothin’ awful. i don’t let ‘em get to me. but what really takes the cake is when i take a look-see back behind me, an’ one of the teachers (not you, mr. moran), is starin’ at me, starin’, with a big huge smile on his face an’ all. he’s the one that just said, “Go home.”
*now i really feel like a big joke.
*teachers have a pretty darn good judgin’ ability, too. sometimes, even better than i do when it comes to an entire room full of kids, all runnin’ around like they’ve all been juiced up on some sort of overpriced coffee, an’ someone’s gotta find the one who started it all. so when i look back up at the teacher, an’ then back down at his leather shoes, an’ then stay there, the teacher says it again. “Go home. I mean, I mean, your little nose bone is all-”
*so he pokes my nose like i’m a little kid. i half expect it to squeak just to make ‘em laugh a bit more. but all of a sudden, my entire face starts to hurt. yeah, it starts at my nose, but it just throbs all across my face and it’s ugly. it’s ugly. heh. pain’s ugly, duh. an’ my face is ugly. an’ whatever i just broke on my nose is ugly.
*i hear a few snickers.
*ah, sheesh.
*but the teacher kinda looks… concerned. really. it’s kinda like if i trip on the floor an’ frisk happens to see me do it an’ instead of laughin’, their face looks like i’m a kicked puppy.
*an’ i hate it when that happens. i wanna make people laugh, not cry. i mean, people have enough problems, right?
*so i say it again. say it like i always do. “i’m fine. i swear. by dose is fine, it ain’t broken, by dose is fine…”
*look… i don’t want to depress nobody, a’ight? it’s not fun. i mean, i should know, bec-
*ah, nevermind. nevermind.
*so i start laughin’ right along with ‘em.
*even when the bell rings.
*even when my nose starts to get damper than a dog’s.
*even when i have to go back to the trailers.
*sorry i couldn’t write for awhile. had to go back to frisk’s little house an’ go help ‘em learn a thing or two. heh. kid’s bright, but they’re still a kid. they’ve got a lot to learn.
*anyways… i went back to the trailers. i went to english class with, guess who, mr. moran. aka, you. so i had a lot of time to write in this thing (and i really, really hope you’ll give me at least a b on this, even though a guy shouldn’t have to write a journal to be a quantum physicist just like his dad). but a guy can only write so much before his brain starts to explode. i mean, mr. moran, you must write a lot. you’ve gotta know how that is. so i started tryin’ to heal my nose since i wasn’t able to go to the school nurse yet (i was still referrin’ to it as “by dose”, so i decided to just stop talkin’ an’ instead just scare faun from behind. thank god the both of us share this class.)
*so this is partially just ‘cuz i wanna tell you what happened, and partially because i don’t want you to freak out the next time any of us monsters start to literally glow green.
*yeah. i know.
*healin’ is… complicated.
*i’m not gonna tell you all the bits and pieces of it. especially since i was in your class, mr. moran. too much about biochemical displacement reactions an’ bone marrow homeostasis an’ stuff. so i just basically squeezed my nose like a human would, kinda expectin’ it to squeak, an’ it hurt almost as bad as hittin’ it against the locker, an’ my hand started lightin’ up green (lotsa chemistry there, but i won’t bore you with that). but it feels like… a warmth. not really sterile like you would a hospital, but like… a fire. but not a hurting fire (even though what i did kinda hurt.) it’s like a warm fireplace, just chillin’ out at home with family an’ a cup of cocoa an’...
*okay maybe not that much. there’s only so much a green glow can do.
*but hey, why am i boring you with all of these details?
*because i’m showing all of you humans what we can do.
*we’ve got a lot more up our sleeves than you all think.
*now, i’m not talkin’ about you, mr. moran, but i don’t wanna brownnose either. it’s just that… sometimes you have this little tic.
*not sure if you mean to or not, but let’s say you’re in a class full of both humies and monsters. not like the one you’re teachin’ now. sometimes, your eyebrows furrow and your voice gets a whole lot louder. but what you’re sayin’ can be the nicest things in the world. like you can say to all the humans, “Hey, I’m going to give everyone a Tootsie Roll after class!” but if you turn to us, you’ll say, “Hey, I’m going to give everyone that did well on their test a Tootsie Roll after class!”
*so it’s still nice, but… less nice.
*y’know what i mean?
*i’m so picky.
*guess i’m nothin’ but a pansy.
*guess i kinda deserve all this.
*a’ight. next class, i can talk again. which is a good thing i can because, y’know, lunch. an’ it’s kinda hard to eat when you’ve got somethin’ wrong with your nose. you try to breathe through your mouth an’ you sound like a whale, an’ you expect dory to start tryin’ to talk to you.
*so i sit at a big table with faun to my left, talkin’ with all of her friends. some humies, some not.
*who cares?
*all of ‘em are textin’ on their smartphones, a lot of ‘em tryin’ to find a signal, a lot of the more tech-savvy humans tryin’ to find a signal. nothin’ i really want to be a part of, but hey, it’s not like there’s any flood kids in this lunch period anyway. b’sides, i have a feelin’ that if i stuck around there, they’d broadcast every single one of my reactions to the world. which for me is a good thing. really.
*but i’m still smilin’ as i say hi while i get my food (a hotdog, wouldn’t y’know), an’ she smiles right back, an’ the friends smile back, an’ a few of the kids at her table start laughin’ when i do a funny little dance, an’ i’m not even sure what it half means, an’ the smile gets a bit wider on me.
*the smiles are wide, all around. an’ that’s what matters.
*so i go off to band, because thank god it’s not in the trailers, amiright? those things are freezin’. you can even see the polar bear families startin’ to move in, singin’ their little coca cola jingles. there aren’t any other flood kids, but there are a lot of humies that are halfway nice. for the most part. sometimes they call me “skinny” an’ all that, but most of the time it’s because i really am skinny an’ not just outta spite.
*but this might be one of my worst classes just because of three little (okay, not little) junior girls who play the piccolo. now for those of you who don’t know what a piccolo is, just picture a flute. now scrape it across a window pane. now take another flute. now scrape it down a chalkboard. now multiply it by about three hundred an’ give yourself a dog’s sensitivity. that’s pretty much what a piccolo sounds like.
*‘least to me.
*heh, my ears are hurtin’ just describin’ it.
*anyway there are a few kids ‘round me who at day one, spent a few minutes trash-talkin’ the piccolo girls, an’ here i am sittin’ right with ‘em again.
*’xcept the funny thing is, it ain’t the piccolo that gets me.
*it’s the thing they do in between songs. right after we finish playin’ through the entirety of “the stars and stripes of america”, an’ i have my semi-big finish as the trombone part, one of them, felicity, starts gettin’ out their drawin’ pad, an’ the two other girls start crowdin’ around it an’ start moanin’ like a ghost fallin’ down a rollercoaster an’ the group starts laughin’ an’ i almost get out my trombone and blast it right into her little ossicles in her ear.
*she turns around an’ laughs like i just told a joke.
*the funniest one i have.
*she looks up an’ down me, as if she’s some sort of robot thing an’ she has to remember every inch of me.
*an’ then it comes out in a whisper.
*"Bone me.”
*an’ that’s why the first note in “the entertainer” i have to play is the loudest one i play in there.
*an’ i don’t even need to see what was on that drawing pad.
*so when they hand it to me, i just crumple it as the trashcan.
*an’ as the great kurt vonnegut said, “so it goes.”
*welp, this is it, i guess. the last chance i have in this place before i have to get back to the trailers.
*look. i don’t mean to be all finicky or hypersensitive or whatever it is. but there’s some things i notice from time to time. an’ i have noticed ‘em since day one. not the day one at school, silly. the day we came up to the surface. they’re all chill when a human comes around, but when some skinny like me comes around they just stare an’ stare an’ stare like i’m a tickin’ time bomb or somethin’.
*so instead of bein’ a tickin’ time bomb, i go over to faun, nacarat, anna, all of ‘em. even if more monsters means more teachers, which means more teachers starin’ at us like tickin’ time bombs. nacarat an’ anna are already dartin’ their eyes left an’ right, lookin’ at the teachers.
*like they’re tickin’ time bombs, too.
*so we don’t say anythin’ until we’re outside. an’ even then, we don’t slide down the ramp like we usually do, an’ i sure don’t use my shortcuts or anythin’ until we’re at the very back of the school towards the trailers an’ the teachers can’t see us anymore. nothin’ we’re not used to. a lot of things have happened since day one, an’ this sort of thing is one of them.
*but once we go outside, we start sprintin’ towards one of the trailers. no reason for it. i dunno. maybe we just wanna have some fun. a guy can only have cabin fever for so long.
*so i try sprintin’ with nacarat to the back of the trailers, but one of the teachers now has duty back there, so i make sure to actually use one of my shortcuts for us both so we can head back before the teacher has a chance to look back.
*so anna has this look on her face that makes her mouth look like a scrunched-up piece of spaghetti my brother made, but it still reaches up to her eyes. but faun just rolls her eyes an’ says, “Boys. Who needs them?” with a little chuckle before we sprint the rest of the way back.
*so the last class is math. i know. thrilling stuff. so i’ll do you a favor an’ not tell about any of that stuff.
*but the worst part comes right afterwards, right when i’m about to take my little shortcut home. the three girls, the same piccolo girls in band, “the ‘f’ girls”, as they call themselves. yeah. those three. i’m with nacarat an’ the rest of ‘em, but that doesn’t stop ‘em. they tend not to stop when they’re goin’ up against a guy that’s barely over four-oh.
*but i have a feelin’ i’m depressin’ everyone again, so i try to lighten it up. so i chuckle, right? i go, “what do you want?”
*i don’t even take a shortcut yet.
*they all laugh, like i’ve told a joke… the funniest one in the world.
*”just one thing…” felicity says. gets all close, an’ i flash my eye. just a warning. but it feels like i have a really huge gust of wind blowin’ through, an’ it’s too dry to keep on makin’ up for it.
*”Like my picture, Bone Daddy?”
*an’ i take my shortcut faster than you can say “hey, wait, what the heck was that?”
*i’ve said it once, an’ i’ve said it again. i’ll probably keep on sayin’ this as long as the reset button keeps on hangin’ over me, as long as all of this keeps on hangin’ over me. heh, mr. moran, you probably don’t even know what a reset is. i don’t care. gettin’ to the surface didn’t appeal back when i was stuck in that mountain..
*an’ it sure don’t now.
*but what do i know?
*i’m just a skinny.

Chapter Text

Mr. Moran
Honors English 11-4
October 10, 2014

*hey, mr. moran, so thanks for gettin’ rid of the 2500 rule. i was kinda goin’ crazy there.
*the “human-monster history reading comprehension” bit at the end sounds kinda hard, but i think i can do it.
*so let’s get this started, ‘kay?
*so i head home. who needs the F Girls anyway? an’ on a monday. sheesh.
*it’s an okay place, all things considerin’. it’s on the outskirts of springfield here in massachusetts. we can see the mountain, which is a great reminder that i’m here an’ not there. here, an’ not there. here, an’ not there.
* i mean, we live with a bunch of neighbors that are… exactly like us. i mean, down to the dna.
*alright,alright. i live with a bunch of monsters.
*but we’re real close knit. i mean, all of the people here know about my neighbor clancy’s knittin’ projects, an’ we’ve all bought at least one of ‘em.
*(yes, i just made a pun. get used to it, ‘kay?)
*but anyway, we know the ins an’ outs. we know all the places to buy a pretty foot-tall Mary statue for less than fifty bucks. if someone has a yard sale, we don’t cuss an’ try to drive around it, we pull over an’ see if we can find anythin’. we have a little area near the mountain where we can meet for angelus if the traffic noise is quiet enough. it’s cool, i know.
*but it’s not like we can expand anywhere, either. we got lucky. they’d just finished this little area about a year before we left the mountain. back when i was in my own little special hell.
*but most of the monsters are stuck in the motels. we’re tryna build, but it takes longer to build a house than you’d think. an’ i don’t know if the same stupid red paper got on the back of the motel door, but if it does…
*i dunno.
*i might have a thing for quantum physics (which REALLY isn’t as hard as it sounds, it’s kinda a bunch of atoms runnin’ back an’ forth), but i dunno a lot of things.
*like i said… i dunno.
*we got real lucky, that’s all.
*i guess it’s luck that got me outta the mountain. or just frisk bein’ either the nicest kid in the world or the most sadistic. nice if they keep me, sadistic if they push the reset button an’ lash me back. simple, i know. i’ve been in this little area ‘bout three times before, so i know my way around more than most, but the stupid red paper…
*that’s new. that’s pretty new.
*so i go in the front door. this house kinda taught me what mold smells like when you’re somewhere dry, but the important thing is that it’s dry. an’ it also taught me the invaluable lesson of teleporting down the hickory stairs when y’haven’t sanded them yet.
*but it’s dry. that’s the important part.
*so i slug my backpack on the chair like it’s a big boulder or somethin’.
*”hi, dad.”
*”Good afternoon, son. How was your day at school?”
*”well, it’s kinda complicated, so get comfy…”
*”Alright, alright, son. How about you tell me in one word? I’m sure I can interpret it from that, given the context. Besides, I-”
*paps ain’t home yet, an’ he won’t be home for a little while. high school bus won’t even be here for ‘bout ten minutes or so. so i let myself go. just this one time.
*my dad. i love ‘im . i’ll love ‘im an’ paps to the end.
*so he doesn’t send his 17-year-old son to his room, right? doesn’t do anythin’ like ground ‘im , either. he just kinda… laughs.
*there’s a whole, whole lot of parents that overreact at somethin’ stupid like this. i mean, if i started talkin’ like this all the time, then he’d give me what-for. but for now, he just kinda… laughs.
*but only for a second. only for a second.
*an’ it’s his turn to pull up the chair.
*the room gets all quiet-like, an’ the heater shuts off. great. even more quiet-like. an’ when dad talks, it kinda scares me. it’s not as… i dunno… flamboyant, i guess. it’s softer, almost like a school counselor took me aside an’ told me my dog died.
* but thank god we’re still allowed to buy dogs, amiright?
*”Son. I know you wouldn’t be this excessive unless you had a great deal of trouble today. So, if you please, can you elaborate on this dilemma?”
*alright, alright. normally, i wouldn’t even have any “dilemmas” to “elaborate” on. normally, i’d scuttle off to my room, do my homework an’ stuff, wait for paps to come home, walk ‘im from the bus even though he’s all the way in the eighth grade.
*heh. sometimes, i like to pawn it off as him bein’ the older bro.
*so i go off.
*”so it started off when there was a stupid slip of paper.”
*”an’ the stupid slip of paper said that we were stupidly separated from the rest of the students. an’ we have to be in the stupid trailers, where it’s stupidly cold. an’ there’s about a hundred fifty of us, an’ i have to be with stupid mr. hunt. so we’re stupidly, um….”
*i don’t wanna say “segregated.” not “segregated.” “segregated” is too much. “segregated” would pull this whole thing into somewhere i don’t want it to be a part of yet. i know if i said that, my dad would start goin’ off, callin’ everyone, tryn’a find someone to blame, find some sort of politician to call up an’ practically yell at. so i just let it trail off on the “um.”
*but he still picks up the phone.
*god, he’s so smart.
*i’ll love ‘im to the end.
*so fifteen minutes till his bus starts screechin’ outside, i head out, all with my hoodie an’ all. gaster (i say way too many puns in this family to have the ability to call him “dadster”) is still callin’ people. here’s how the first one went.
*”Hello, sir. This is the school office, am I correct?”
*”Thank you. Now, I would like some more information about a recent policy’s implementation. My son has reported that he’s been separated with some of the other students. Now, these students are in the trailers. I’m wondering if this is a temporary policy having to do with school maintenance to improve its correlation with monster’s biological systems. If it’s anything pertaining to that, can you please-”
*”Hello? Hello?”
*second call, he reduced his spiel to just “I’m wondering if this is a temporary policy, and I would like some more information on this.”
*but the ending was still the same.
*”Hello? Hello?”
*so the fifteen minute time comes runnin’ in at about the third call, an’ i get my hide outta there before my dad starts yellin’. it’s almost like one of his formulae went wrong. an’ the nice cream guy named john who lives on my left is comin’ too, which won’t help out my “older bro” plan.
*so we wait there for ‘bout ten minutes, an’ for the first time, i can rant about this with someone. i know, i know. ranting is somewhat girly. okay, a lot girly. but sometimes, it can be real helpful, y’know?
*so i rant. an’ he joins in. about the trailers, about hunter, about the three f girls. about everythin’. when i get to the f girls, he cringes an’ goes, “Yeah. Sometimes, it can get crazy. But hey, that’s high school for you, huh?”
*i guess.
*so the bus finally comes.
*heh, whatever. still my bro. still the same.
*he gets with a group of boys, huge boys, over six-oh, two whole huge feet over me. but they somehow manage to look down on paps, an’ they kinda nod when he tells ‘em about exotic pasta recipes an’ his halloween costume for this year, but they kinda walk off.
*i’ve said this over an’ over again in my head, an’ i’m gonna say it again on paper this time. it’s not just high school that’s stupid.
*an’ after all of this, paps still runs off of the bus. he almost loses his scarf, an’ a stupid red paper is in his hand that’s as red as his scarf. so he runs, an’ he hugs me, an’ i almost fall because he’s so tall, but i don’t care ‘cuz thank god for teleporting. so we both get on our driveway, my dad’s lil red tahoe jalopy smilin’ at us. i steal the stupid lil’ paper from his hand, an’ it accidentally rips in the corner.
*”gimme that, bro. it’s a pretty TEARable rule, ain’t it?” an’ he says, “IT’S BEEN EXACTLY THIRTY SECONDS SINCE I’VE BEEN OFF OF THE BUS, SANS!”. but he’s laughin’, an’ he’s laughing, an’ he’s laughin’, an i’m smilin’.
*an’ that’s all that matters.
*so i’m layin’ on the couch, starin’ at the tv screen. but my bro kinda yells at me for it, an’ dad says, “Would you please stop it?” ‘cuz he’s tryna finish his phone calls, so paps has to push me off.
*so now i’m makin’ dinner, tryna help out my bro with his algebra (god, i almost forgot stuff like that), an’ dad takes a gamble at the phone calls.
*so i give a lil’ glare, but it ain’t big enough to let ‘im know anythin’ quite yet.
*because he’s taken a few more gambles more.
*when i was a kid, real little, back before i learned what an atom was, i remember feelin’ hungry. feelin’ hungry all the time. dad would take some money an’ say he’d be back in a few hours. but the money wouldn’t. it just never did.
*paps would feel hungry, an’ i’d say there’s nothin’ to cook, but that didn’t stop us from feelin’ hungry.
*so paps an’ i had to go off to grillby’s.
*grillby’s is heaven.
*wman, have we had some good times there. nobody ‘xcept me, my bro, an’ everyone else in grillbs. an’ we always got food. as much ketchup as i wanted. no stupid red papers or stupidi mr. hunt or stupid reset buttons. not that we begged. beggin’ was way too embarrassin’, an’ my dad would probably feel worse. an’ b’sides, i wanted to be a comedian. heck, i still do. so i performed. performed a whole lot. grillbs was my age back then, but he still tossed me an ‘im a burger each an’ every night.
*comedy. a powerful thing, ain’t it?
*eh… i’m gettin’ way too deep.
*but what do i know?
*i still love ‘em. my bro, my dad.
*an’ i’ll love ‘em till the end.

Mr. Moran
Honors English 11-4
10 October 2014

Worksheet #1 (out of 10)
Directions: Read the narrative carefully and answer the questions to the best of your ability. Incorrectness can be applied for a number of reasons, such as failing to answer the questions, failing to cooperate with certain statements, or spelling errors.

“The Meteor that Started a Disease”
In 25 million B. C., a meteor crashed into the atmosphere bearing the radiative force of an extremely small star. Once it landed, it unleashed a noxious force of mutagenic radiation, causing multiple “hiccups” in evolution. Hundreds of thousands of genetic mutations occurred in animals such as grazing bezoars, tuataras, a type of primeval lizard with green scales, and bichirs, which is a fish that has the ability to walk on land As a result, humans and monsters evolved separately. They took on human characteristics, although they were truly a disgusting imitation, and lived in various parts of the world, close to where their primal ancestors were. For examples, the bezoar monsters lived in the tops of mountains in Turkey and Persia, while the bichir monsters crawled on their bellies and ate the dirt off of the Nile River bed.
After about 10 million B. C.- after millions of years of idiocy- monsters finally comprehended that they were separate lifeforms from the rest of the animals around them. They ran off from their primal origins, clinging to other monsters like a needy and whining child would to a busy mother. Because of their overarching inability to make coordinations, the clans were often very diverse, holding all sorts of monsters. However, the monsters even lacked the ability to repopulate themselves as well as humans would be able to, and their population flatlined. When this happened, the earth was peaceful and tranquil. When the monsters were forced down Mt. Ebott later in the year 1211 A.D., the humans would eventually teach them a lesson, grouping them into this same sort of clan to teach them that they would forever be inferior to the intellect of the humans.
But for millions of years, monsters were unfortunately the dominant lifeform, as they had an ever so slightly higher level of intelligence compared to the rest of the animals. This was the result of the genetic modifications which the monsters, unable to create their own genetics, stole from the human race. When humans finally emerged in one glorious spring in 2 million B. C., there were a few rivalries, but for the most part, hominids and monsters were allowed to coexist. However, it was inevitable for this ont to last.
While the monsters had slightly more instincts and survival skills than the humans did, the humans were blessed with the gift of easier repopulation and an astonishingly high intellect. In fact, monsters’ intelligence grew so low that the humans had to teach monsters to walk on two feet .
But this was only the beginning. Other than the rivalries, they would commit many more atrocities, which you will hear about later in this worksheet series.


Question #1: What is the main idea of this passage?
Put your answer to Question #1 here:
*this is stupid.

Question #2: Drawing from the context clues of the word “grazing” in “grazing bezoar”, is the bezoar most likely a rattlesnake, a shark, or a goat?
Put your answer to Question #2 here:
*this is stupid.

Question #3: Which paragraph best fits the idea that monsters had an inferior intellect to humans?
Put your answer to Question #3 here:
*this is stupid.

Question #4: Which word can replace the word “glorious” in paragraph three: wonderful, deplorable, or ersatz?
Put your answer to Question #4 here:
*this is stupid.

Question #5: In your own words, how do you think the Earth would have fared if the meteor had missed the atmosphere? Cite examples from the text accordingly.
Put your answer to Question #5 here:
*this is stupid.

Question #6: Following this worksheet, what two paragraphs would a scientist most likely cite for debunking creationism?
Put your answer to Question #6 here:
*this is stupid.

Question #7: How many years did it take for monsters to finally realize that they were a separate species? Add sentences from the reading as to why this was so.
Put your answer to Question #7 here:
*this is stupid.

Question #8: Finally, how do you think this article applies to modern history? For example, in September of 2014, monsters came out of Mt. Ebott, mushrooming into Massachusetts. Following this passage, how did your opinion on this issue change?
Put your answer to Question #8 here:
*this is stupid.

*my god.
*you wanted me to answer these?
*you must really think i’m stupid.

Chapter Text

Mr. Gaster-
Before you begin today’s entry, please make a mental note to see me after class. I would like to discuss something with you.
-Rob Moran

Honors english 11-4
Mr. moran
October 12th, 2014
notes from our conversation that might be useful later.
*so i see the note. cuss under my breath, just in case he’s behind me. i can’t exactly rip out the paper… it’s kinda sewn together, so if i do it’ll just fall apart an’ scatter all across the floor.
*an’ monsters really don’t need that kinda stuff right now, y’know?
*an’ after class, nacarat an’ faun say for me to catch up with them ‘cuz they’re goin’ to the new, shindig-gy place that grillbz built that’s supposed to be just like the old one. i say no ‘cuz i’m supposed to take care of paps an’ i say you know how it is. an’ they just ask me if it’s ok if they take paps with ‘em. so i say yeah because we’ve done this quite a few times in snowdin.
*after all of this, paps could really use a distraction.
*so the bell rings, an’ i would be more depressed watchin’ the buses go by if it weren’t for my condition, powers, blessing, whatever ya want to call the thing that makes my eye turn all bright an’ sore. mr. moran is still sittin’ at the back of the tables. he isn’t starin at me or nothin’. he’s just… gradin’ papers.
*so i schlep my way over to ‘im . “what is it, teach?”
*”First of all, Mr. Gaster, it’s Mr. Moran. And second of all, what you have demonstrated in the past entry is… distressing.”
*he talks pretty slow, has a complete southern drawl, too, so i can mush together what i have to say real quick. ”’distressin’?’”
*”Alright. That might not have been the word. Perhaps ‘disconcerting’ or ‘perturbing’ is a better word.”
*”remember when we were writin’ those essays?”
*”Yes, I do.”
*”an’ you were tellin’ us ‘bout how important word choice is?”
*”Yes, that’s exactly what I’m telling you. ‘Disconcerting’ might have been a better word.”
*”i’m talkin’ about the thing at the back of the journal, te-um, uh, mr. moran. y’know. the one i screwed up on.”
*”Please continue.”
*i smile a bit so it doesn’t look like i’m gonna give him a whackin’. a whackin’ isn’t nearly as bad as a bad time, but it’s not exactly a pat on the back either.
*”let’s just say your word choice wasn’t the best, teach.”
*mr. moran stands up, an’ i can hear the poor tiles bein’ scraped. he stands over me, right over me, an’ for a sec i think we’re goin’ to lay up, right here, right now. but with all of the cameras here, that doesn’t make-
*”Please excuse me, Mr. Gaster. I have to use the restroom. Thank goodness the janitors don’t get the one by the math hallway until 3:30.”
*an’ as he leaves, his hair almost touches the door.
*heh. guess this guy’s more clever than i thought.
*so to make it look like i’m not that calculatin’, i play on my phone for about five minutes until a text comes in.
*i rap my palm against my forehead. this is what happens when people don’t get the whole truth. an’ it ain’t just them bein’ told the wrong things.
*it’s them not askin’ for the right things.
*”bro, you can get whatever you want, but if i were you, i’d get the grilled special. grillbz puts a little ketchup in it while it cooks.”
*so i look up at the clock. stretch out my neck a bit. teach’s been in the john for awhile now.
*”an’ about the assignment…”
*i change it about five times, but it finally coems out to “and about the assignment, we’ll talk about it later, ok?” an’ when i send it, i have to go ahead an’ mosey down the hallway to keep from cringin’.
*so when i get in there, mr. moran’s waitin’ on the wall. no one else. the toilets fill up every once in awhile, even with nobody flushin’, so that’s low-key worryin’. but there’s just mr. moran. no janitors.
*no cameras.
*”Mr. Gaster. I thought you would catch on soon enough.”
*”i would’ve sooner. just had to catch up on a few things.” i say catch an’ up real close together so it kinda sounds like ketchup, but sadly, mr. moran hasn’t caught up to my heinz thing just yet.
*”About the word choice… it’s not me writing these papers.”
*he tries to slide down the wall, but mr. moran’s old enough to where he kinda has to grab the wall with both his hands, then the floor. i stand above ‘im , but not by much. but i still stand above ‘im . so i sit my way down.
*”Mr. Gaster, very few students know about this process, and I’m hesitant to disclose this information to even a few more. At the beginning of the year, us teachers are given a textbook. We don’t have to give an individual copy to each of the children, but we do have to teach directly from it. But last month…”
*”last month. kinda a touchy subject, isn’t it?”
*”Exactly. Last month, we were given a new policy that the administration could issue a new textbook at any moment, with any subject. They said it was to, um…”
*it’s quiet enough to where i can hear one of the toilets fillin’ up again.
*”They said it was to ‘tailor to the situations of every student.’”
*i grind my teeth together for just a second. try not to make it noticeable, so i pretend that i’m seriously interested in one of the cracks on the yellow floor.
*”so, mr. moran, what am i supposed to do?”
*he starts to look at that same crack, so i kinda make sure to jerk my head up.
*”To be honest, young man… I’m not sure. I was thinking that since you had this information, you could disclose it to other kids in the school, including Faun and Nacarat. But unfortunately, I’m bound by Springfield Public Schools to give you the grade according to the completion. And these are stacked high enough to where if you don’t complete these, you could be held back from your diploma.”
*heh. dad would get a load of that.
*but more importantly, paps would.
*”alright. so i’ll just keep doin’ what i’m doin’. keep informed. an’ pray they don’t put cameras in here.”
*an’ as i’m makin’ my way to my backpack, i’m thinkin’ of tellin’ all of this to faun an’ nacarat in one big, long text. maybe even go to grillby’s just so i can tell ‘em. just so we can all be one step closer to bein’ free. i mean, as free as i can get without the reset button an’ all.
*i make sure to go to the bathroom again before i take another shortcut.
*’cuz you can never be too careful.


Mr. Moran
Honors English 11-4
October 12th, 2014

*so where was i before we got into this whole ‘incompletion’ mess?
*oh, yeah.
*last monday, wasn’t it?
*so dad finally finishes the calls. i’m still helpin’ out paps with his homework, but he can’t focus. i can’t blame ‘im . i really can’t focus either, after that stupid slip of red paper.
*”that’s a relief. but i know you did your best.”
*he just nods and goes upstairs.
*alright, i’m kinda.. what word did mr. moran use… disconcerted. which is kinda a mix of “oh god, what’s goin’ on now” an’ “i should probably do somethin’ about this.” when i learned it, i found out i’m disconcerted a lot more times than i’m not.
*so i give paps a break. i try to give ‘im a hug, just because he has that look on his face, eyes wide, kinda shakin’, like everything’s too much for him, but he says no, no, no hugs, please, an’ he goes to the kitchen an’ gets out the noodles an’ the salt an’ pepper an’ boilin’ pot an’ i go upstairs ‘cuz i know he doesn’t like bein’ disturbed an’ all.
*dad never does this.
*”hey, dad?”
*there’s an echo from one of the bedrooms. “I’M IN HERE, SON!”
*it kinda rumbles a bit on his college degrees that’s right in front of his bedroom, so i know he’s in there.
*hmmm. might just be gettin’ changed or somethin’.
*heh. i don’t want to be any more awkward, so i shortcut back to my usual spot on the couch.
*i try gettin’ in the cable, but i make sure to mute it ‘cuz paps doesn’t like any type of extra sound when he gets this...sensitive. i wanna watch the game (yes, i actually like parts of human culture, whoop whoop), but instead of it bein’ clear, it’s all choppy, an’ sometimes the signal conks out every once in a while, an’ my brother’s yellin’ out turn it off, turn it off, ‘cuz he can hear a high-pitched noise comin’ from the tv, so i do.
*i look outside. heh. stormclouds are a’comin’.
*guess humans aren’t the cause of everythin’.
*i catch up on this one episode alphy wanted me to watch. heh. made me laugh a bit. an hour.
*i do mass. an hour.
*paps calls me for the spaghetti. “HOW DID YOU NOT KNOW IT WAS READY? NOW IT’S GONE COLD, AND NOW WE’LL HAVE TO MICROWAVE IT, AN-” so i eat it. i say sorry. least he lets me pat his shoulder. a half an hour.
*the sun sets. fifteen minutes.
*i try to take a shower but then realize dad’s up there, the master bathroom tucked like a lil’ bundle in his bedroom. so i go up there. yell at him to come down because paps made some spaghetti. he says, “COMING”, but he never does. heh. reminds me of that happy little part of my childhood when he’d go out with his money. he’d spend it all, come home with a few aces tucked up his shirt. he said more money was comin’. but it never did.
*oh well.
*so i do some work on quantum physics because why the hell not. an hour.
*god, i’m such a nerd.
*i finally, finally hear somethin’ comin’ down the stairs. it’s dad, an’ it’s eight.
*so i feign takin’ a shower. but when i go to his room, i rummage things around. but i do it with my left hand stretched out an’ my eye puttin’ up a blaze’ like it’s gonna turn into ashes, an’ it sure as hell feels like it. telekinesis tends to douse the noise quite a bit.
*just as i go into the room, there’s a color.
*not comin’ from my eye, but my eye still sees it.
*there’s a color.
*the color purple.
*so i look around the room like i’m gonna get whiplash, an’ there’s purple in two places. one’s the ugly christmas sweater paps had to wear back in the mountain. i know there’s nothin’ left for me there, so i look at the other place.
*he tried to hide it. he tried so hard to hide it.
*with my hands this time, i go on an’ slide the little purple corner out. almost like it was teasin’ me the whole time.
*but when i read the cover, it makes me feel like the dumbest lil’ monster in the world. as dumb as the humies say i am.
*because i can’t figure this one out.
*that’s what it says on the cover.
*but by then dad’s gone so high up the stairs that i have to shove the book back an’ shortcut my way back in the bathroom so he doesn’t see.
Mr. Moran
Honors English 11-4
October 12th, 2014
Worksheet 2/10:
Directions: Read the narrative correctly to the best of your ability. Incorrectness can be applied for a number of reasons, such as failure to answer questions, failure to cooperate with certain statements, and spelling errors. PLEASE MAKE SURE TO ANSWER ALL QUESTIONS.
Over the next few hundred thousand years, their stupidity and brutish nature compared to hominids finally took a toll on them, and a truth was established that would stand true for the next hundreds of thousands of years… technology would outsmart the primal, animalistic urges of strength and magic. For at the invention of fire, hominids proved that they could survive better than monsters could.
Still, they lived in peace, even if monsters’ peace was extremely clingy and clan-favoring.
In 170,000 B.C., while humans discovered the use of clothing for protection from enemies and elements, monsters, in their sheer idiocy, preferred their own natural fur, scales, and other natural embeddings. But soon, around 160,000 B.C., the monsters with subpar protection, such as skeletons, utilized clothing. Eventually, by 150,000 B.C., all monsters finally learned to use clothing, although the hardier, stupider monsters, such as goat-monsters, only used clothing for decoration. This is when their pagan inclinations took their root, and where their uncivilized manner grew ever more.
In 100,000 B. C., hominids learned how to speak, and in 80,000 B. C., monsters finally caught on. They developed their own languages from the hominids. They would rub off the nearby human languages because of their profound inability to construct their own, but for the most part, their languages were indeed separate. This caused bouts of well-meaning conflict between hominids and monsters, but for the first time, monsters could make plans. This made them dangerous, and danger combined with foolishness is the most dangerous toxin indeed. Instead of clans being as diverse, they could plan what certain species of monsters would appear and where they would. Because of their overwhelming slowness, they spent the next few thousand years forming specified clans until finally, monsters started to group with their own kind. Needless to say, they bred like the devilish rabbits that they were, consuming more of the Earth’s precious resources with every generation.
In 75,000 B.C., monsters delved further and further into their animalistic attributes, adding primitive jewelry to their bodies. Often, for lack of competence to find anything better, they would decorate their homes and bodies with whatever would come from trees, stemming from the belief that trees were special, since monsters’ dust would often fuel the trees’ growth.Of course, this is an unsophisticated notion, as there is no scientific evidence that monsters inhabit these trees, and so should be regarded as nonsense, along with their entire faith, current and past. They also began to attempt to bury dust, but this was always unsuccessful. While the branches of modern Christianity would not sprout until 0 A.D., their attempts at religion would nevertheless be thwarted by the superior intellect of humans.
Question #1: What word could replace “idiocy” at paragraph three? You may use a thesaurus.
Answer #1: *stupidity
Question #2: Put the events in sequence: monsters adopt animalistic religions, a meteor strikes the Earth, monsters breed and consume more of Earth’s resources
Answer #2: 2, 3, 1

Question #3: Armed with these facts, what would you say if you were to come across a monster practicing their religion? Cite examples from Charles Darwin, Louis de Broglie, and James Chadwick, as well as other known scientists.
Answer #3: *i’d say their religion was illogical, and highly personal. if god can’t be scientifically tested, then he can’t possibly be real, right?

Question #4: Why do you think monsters took so long to master language compared to humans? In a study conducted in 1975, a primeval rabbit-monster skeleton, dug up from deep in the Sahara, was found to have a skull that was only 150 cubic centimeters, whereas a human at the same age had a skull that was 1,500 cubic centimeters.
Answer #4: *because monsters then had smaller brains than humans. and because they were too busy evolving their bodies against human fights to increase the size of their brains.

Question #5: If a researcher were to use this as a source, what paragraph would he or she use to describe the clan system of monsters?
Answer #5: *second

Question #6: Who do you think is telling the story: a monster, an objective, scientific author, or an art teacher?
Answer #6: *an art teacher. they’re closer connected to the school board.

Question #7: What sentence would you use to verify credibility of this passage/
Answer #7: *none, the author is not given.

Question #8: Currently, the Bible and other religious texts are placed in the nonfiction section of libraries across Massachusetts and the whole of the United States. Would the author in this story approve of this staying that way?
Answer #8: *no. they’d probably advocate for it to go in the fiction section at this point.

*i feel sick.
*is this what i hafta do to get a degree?
*if that’s true…
*can’t reset.
*can’t go back.
*can’t reset.
*can’t go back.
*i feel sick.

Chapter Text

Mr. Moran
Honors English 11-4
12 October 2014
*so as i’m goin’ back downstairs, i’m tryin’ to fumble a bit at dad’s book, but he’s already in the room. he’s on the desk, pretendin’. but i know what he’s up to. heh.
*not too hard to be a judge with him around.
*but frisk is somethin’ else.
*frisk is… heh, kinda a wild card. i dunno if they’re watchin’ me. i dunno if they know that i’m happy with the way things are now. livin’ in a cardboard box but havin’ a future is a million times better than livin’ in a mansion but havin’ no future, i guess.
* heck, i can’t even tell if frisk is a he or a she.
*look. i’m not gonna tell ‘em a lot of things. i’m not gonna tell ‘em i have nightmares about them, that they’ll throw inna towel an’ push the button already. i’m not gonna tell ‘em that i’m so hungry when i get home ‘cuz i sleep during lunch. i’m not, i’m not, i’m not gonna tell ‘em ‘bout the stupid red slip of paper. ‘cuz even if they reset, they still don’t deserve to get all the blame for what’s happenin’. what’s happenin’ is probably caused by adults. adults, not lil’ kids. adults who are actin’ like lil’ kids.
*but my question is…
*why is it that all of the power you can find, no matter where, tends to go to the person who can twist an’ turn it outta shape the most?
* i stare a bit, thinkin’ for just a second, just a second, that he’ll walk away an’ i’ll get to peek. but he doesn’t even look up from his work. not even to ask me why i’m starin’ like a crazy person. so i throw inna towel myself.
*so i go back down to paps. dinner’s seemed to calm him down quite a bit. so i try givin’ ‘im a hug just to see how calm he is, an’ he pauses for a few seconds this time before huggin’ me.
*so i know.
*so i can be a decent judge.
*so i get an extra bowl. just to see if that’ll do anything. an’ when i do, he’s so excited that he starts wavin’ his hands for just a second, just a second, like he’s gonna fly away, right into the sky. but that’s before he starts callin’ undyne ‘bout if there’s a royal guard on the surface, his voice louder than anythin’ i can muster.
*an’ i do want ‘im to fly away. i want ‘im to be free, just like one of the robins flyin’ around here on the surface. i don’t want ‘im to be stuck in these resets. ‘cuz even if he doesn’t remember ‘em like i do, he’s still as stuck here as i am. an’ even without the resets, he’s still got that stupid slip of red paper, slappin’ ‘im right in the face. all of the friendships he could’ve made. all of the people he could’ve met. if it weren’t for this stupid, stupid tension goin’ on between the humies an’ us- i just want ‘im to be happy. that’s all.
*an’ he can’t be happy without a dad with ‘im.
*least i can try to give ‘im that.
*so i shortcut my way into dad’s room, an’ i can see ‘im rummaging so it looks like he’s workin’ on his papers for his physics lab. he gives me a lil’ lecture about how “WE’VE DISCUSSED THIS, WE’VE AGREED THAT YOU’RE NOT TO TELEPORT INTO MY BEDROOM WHILE THE DOOR IS LOCKED”, an’ i feed ‘im a lil’ bull about how i didn’t know the door was locked. not like he actually believes it. but it’s enough, i guess, for the next halfa minute i’m gonna be here.
*i announce that we’re goin’ across town to frisk an’ toriel‘s. paps needs the break, i say. an’ i add that maybe i can visit the kiddo while i’m at it. just maybe.
*so he says yes, an’ i get my lil’ culata outta there, an’ i tell paps to pack his stuff, an’ he runs over here faster than you can say “slowdownslowdownSLOWDOWN.”
*but before we do, there’s one thing we need to do first.
*okay. so we have these woods in the back ‘bout a half mile left, right? that’s where we say the angelus every noon, or at least try to. we bump into the mary statue an’ i shortcut me an’ ‘im ‘bout two miles left, an’ there’s a group of teens there, all tall, all the same, all humies. but i don’t care, ‘cuz my bro’s happy, an’ i don’t want a group of teens ruinin’ his day as much as groups of teens ruin mine.
* so we pick up sticks from the ground, an’ we do a lil’ stick fight with both of us missin’ on purpose, an’ i must’ve gotten so excited i accidentally shortcutted, because wouldn’t ya know it, we’re back at the mary statue. we’ve gotten exactly two handfuls of wood, one for each person, but i think that’s enough. then again, i don’t have very good standards for enough, i guess.
*so we fight a lil’ more. rant about the stupid slip of red paper. talk about some new theories with alphys’ show. talk about how people tend to believe things just because it’s been there since they were kids. talk about how lazy i am, an’ then just like that, the first house painted all purple, not baby’s blanket purple, pops up.
*so we put down our bundles of sticks (i know an, um, colorful word for those) an’ hustle our way into toriel's house. we can see the start of the main road from where we are, all the rest of the houses stretchin’ out to the right. a group of troublemakers that have gotta be from my high school, people that old folks are accustomed to yellin’ at, starts sprayin what must be’ something awful on the giant plaque that has our neighborhood name on it. paps an’ i are ‘bout to go gung ho like we did once or twice to some more troublemaking humies, with his bones an’ my blasters, the dynamic duo, just to scare ‘em off. But that’s just ‘till we notice the cameras they’re carryin’ with ‘em.
*that’s when toriel shuts the blinds an’ hushes us in.
*paps looks crushed, but only for a second. i pat ‘im on the back an’ promise we can spar on the way back. practice a few moves. his smile comes back, an’ that’s all mine needs.
*”Boys will be boys, I suppose,” toriel says. she’s sayin’ it real quiet, like she thinks we can’t hear. she kinda laughs. kinda. but then she calls up the stairs. “Frisk! The Gaster brothers are down here!”
*i hear a lil’ “I’ll be down in a minute!” but toriel doesn’t buy that, an’ she climbs the stairs, an’ while paps is tryna talk to me ‘bout snow days even through i hate the resets i hatethemIHATETHEM, i hear a KA-THUD. one of the pictures kinda rattles.
*now, normally, when she climbs up the stairs, i hear a kaBUMP, kaBUMP, kaBUMP, kaBUMP. so i race my own way up the stairs, crick crick crick crick crick crick, an’ paps follows me after awhile, OOMpa, OOMpa, OOMpa, OOMpa.
*an’ toriel ‘s just sittin’ there at the top. she’s pantin’ like the dog i used to own. little white pomeranian named mack. loved to jump up on people who so much as looked at him. always finished his food. mr. moran, you probably would’ve liked him. but he didn’t know what was comin’.
*’bout a month ago, while we were comin’ up here, some police wanted to search us. wanted to make sure “we weren’t threats”. so they took everythin’ we had, our boxes, our food, our clothes, everythin’, an’ we had to wear what patients wear in hospitals an’ wait at the wood’s end. crazy, i know. so we went back to our stuff, an’ wouldn’t you know it? no mack. no sight of my dad’s cell, either.
*heh. guess i deserved it. i wasn’t careful enough. even after the past two or three resets i’ve gone up here. but my family sure doesn’t. but i do.
*so toriel's pantin’ like mack. all collapsed, kinda like she's a soap opera star gettin’ some sort of news. she's a mess. she’s on her knees, kinda starin’ at the floor like it’s changin’ colors right in front of her. she’s sweatin’, too. sweatin’ like she ran up here instead of walked.
*an’ her hand’s on her heart.
*so i don’t say anythin’, an’ the first thing that pops into my head is the phone. i’m just about to call it when somethin’ squeaks out of her. in between a squeal an’ a yell. “No, don’t!” an’ she’s yellin’ an’ frisk is standin’ off to the side, one hand in their room in this glowy part where i can’t see an’ one hand stickin’ out, i want to go to ‘em, but i still stick it out, phone still in my hand. just in case.
*”I’ll be fine.”
*she stands up. kinda shaky, though. she puts a hand on the wall. almost shatters one of the pictures of everyone, but i try to move it out of her way, hand all stretched out an’ eye afuss. but still, one part of the glass breaks, an’ that crinkles the whole paper. an’ paps is cryin’, paps is cryin’, hands are over his ears…
*heh. guess i can’t do anythin’ worth it after all.
*the only thing i can hear is a little gasping noise behind me, an’ i’m sure it’s paps. i put down the picture, an’ his breathin’ starts to slow. which is good. wish i could pat his back. but i do stand a lil’ closer to ‘im.
*”I’ll be fine. These attacks have been happening lately, but I always manage to get through them. Right, Frisk?”
*they just nod.
*they just nod.
*an’ their hand never leaves the lil’ area in their room where i can’t see.
*but life goes on. it always has to. even when you’re scared it’ll start all over again.
*so i go off to frisk’s room. they say hi an’ all, ask how school’s goin’, even joke with me a little. but then i see the glowy thing again in their room. it has a brown outline. three options. one with the letter r in the beginnin’, the word “set” at the end, an’ the letter e in the middle. take a wild guess.
*then the glow kinda dies off. an’ then they complain their stomach hurts, so they shut the door on me. heh. figures. if somethin’s too awkward, just avoid it, right? i know how it goes.
*so we give her the bundles of sticks. paps has all calmed down, but he’s got his earmuffs on even though it’s somethin’ like sixty degrees. she says thanks because her wood stove’s all she has for her energy. no coal, no oil, nothin’. it’s like we’ll go on an’ waste all of america’s brown blood just like that.
*i nod.
*’cuz we already got our own sticks a month ago.
Mr. Moran
Honors English 11-4
12 October 2014
Worksheet #3 out of #10
Directions: Read the directions carefully and answer accordingly. Incorrectness can be given for many different reasons, including grammatical errors, spelling errors, or failing to comply with a certain statement. FAILING TO COMPLY WITH A CERTAIN STATEMENT MAY RESULT IN FAILURE OF THE ASSIGNMENT.
Around 65,000 B.C., monsters finally created their own art, after millions of years of ignoring its glories. This passion for art would lead to a large expansion of the craft in the monsters’ culture in general, and it is still a prevalent force to this day, although the majority of monster art is still rather primitive.
Around 48,000 B.C., monsters start to learn how to create their own clothing and decorations by sewing. This lead to an advancement in finer movements that they had lacked since their first appearance on Earth. For the first time, monsters could finally comprehend how to grasp items, to begin to make tools out of the plants around them, and prepare food more effectively. Humans, in a revolutionary feat, start to make stone tools, such as spears, in order to more effectively fight monsters. This led to expected, and even typical confusion on the monsters’ part, and the monster population experienced a drop.
Around 40,000 B.C., monsters started to create their own musical instruments and sculptures. They were some of the most primitive in existence, often crafted out of bone. They began to bang on drums rhythmically, and masses and masses of monsters would often gather to listen and dance in an unholy manner, violently jumping up and down. They created a shoddy, xylophone-like instrument, which would often be played either out of boredom or for end-of-life rituals. (This also did a fine job of scaring away early skeletons.)
Around 15,000 B.C., human-monster conflicts inevitably grew as humans grew eager for an opportunity to test their new tools. For a few select groups of monsters, this led to them pioneering cremation. Along with piles of dust, humans were also cremated along with them, seething and burning at the only things humans had left. They also learned how to travel to other lands via boats in short distances, spreading more terror through these conflicts. In some occasions, monsters spread from continent to continent, and their population exploded. Their reign of oppression and inhuman savagery led to more conflicts, all justified in nature. After brute strength failed the monsters, they turned to technology, and unable to create their own weapons, they rubbed off of the designs of human weapons. On the other hands, humans discovered SOULs and the nature of SOULs, as well as distinguishing that there were different types of SOULs. With this, humans embarked on a mission to repel their oppressors.
Question #1: How is the practice of monsters spreading to other continents mirrored today? It is recommended to cite examples, including the final sentence and the retaliation of the humans.
Answer #1: *monsters are spreadin’. that’s it.

Question #2: Why were the conflicts between humans and monsters justified?
Answer #2: *’cuz humans thought the monsters were oppressin’ them. but as far as i was told, the monsters were just settlin’ down all hippie-like. but you say what you’d like.

Question #3: What were the three purposes of the xylophone during the primeval monster era?
Answer #3: *boredom. end-of-life stuff. an’ what is the last reason, some sort of big joke?

Question #4: What happened once the humans advanced their tools and began the Stone Age.
Answer #4: *monster conflicts.

Question #5: What is a synonym to “savagery?”
Answer: *”inhumanity.” in that case, i guess you’re right. we’re not human. why not go one step farther an’ replace it?

Question #6: How did monsters dance back in the primeval era? In a short essay, describe how they danced. Make it at least five sentences.
Answer #6: *monsters danced weird. not the way we dance now. they jumped up an’ down. we don’t. now, we dance mostly like humans.

Question #7: Why did the monster population experience a drop?
Answer #7: *cuz of the conflicts, duh.

Question #8: Finally, what is the main idea of the passage?
Answer #8: *that whoever wrote this has a lot, lot more work to do.

Chapter Text

Mr. Moran
Honors English 11-4
13 October 2014
*so i wake up in the middle of the night. happens all the time, don’t worry ‘bout it. guess it started when the resets did. normally, nights like this go like this: i want to rest, an’ my mind says “yes”, but my body says, “no”, an’ here i am. happens durin’ the daytime, too, when i’m not thinkin’ of what the humans are gonna do next. an’ that sticks in my brain a lot.
*heh heh. now you know why i sleep in your class.
*that was a compliment, silly. you’re welcome.
*the clock says 1:05, an’ just like that, it’s already tuesday. so i flip out one of my books. somethin’ borin’. tends to calm me down when it’s stuff like that. it says some drabble ‘bout “photons” an’ “working energy” when i should really be knowin’ this stuff, so i slam it shut, an’ i just sit there for ‘bout two minutes before noticing something that wasn’t there before.
*yeah, i know. shocking, huh? you’d usually expect someone like my dad to say somethin’ like this. sheesh. but nope. it’s me.
*alright. here’s the scoop.
*usually, when i wake up like this, i can hear a creakin’ above me. i know it’s dad, doin’ whatever he needs to do. i have a popcorn ceilin’, so some of the paint gets into my eyes. then i either hafta wash it out or sleep the rest of the night on my belly, face to the pillow. the noise sticks ‘round for a few hours, sticks ‘round after i try an’ fall asleep again before the next morning.
* might be why dad loves coffee so much.
*but here, now, it’s… nothin’. no creaks, no noises, no nothin’.
*heh. my peepers are safe.
*but don’t get me wrong. this has happened a few times. only a few, but what the hay. somethin’ mighta wiped 'im out. he mighta had an extra frustratin’ experiment to do. I know how it is. the variables won't line up an’ the methods won't work an’ it's just a big mess. he mighta had to drive a whole long way to work. or he mighta had to listen to five-minute ads before he could press the “skip ad” button. that’s pretty exhaustin’ right there.
*so i’m 'bout to try an’ fall asleep again, but somethin’ pops up in my noggin. heh. thought that conked out a long time ago, but oh well.
*writin’ a book mighta wiped him out.
*writin’ this journal is...heh...more exhaustin’ than anythin’. that could just be 'cuz i'm lazy. but somewhere, i gotta feelin’ that it's somethin’ else. i dunno what it is. but i have a feelin’ that it’s the same thing that keeps me goin’. weird, ain’t it?
*so, you know my shortcuts, right?
*well, whenever i make them, there’s an obnoxious whooshing noise, like i’m the wind or somethin’.
*so i stuff a pillow up my hoodie, an’ i have to light up my eye for a sec just so i can look at the mirror an’ laugh a bit at how i look like a beached whale who ate a pack of marshmallows.
*but i make a second noise, too, when this stuff happens. a FWUMPing noise that comes when my eye does it. so i put both hands on it, an’ it burns, an’ it feels like my hands are gettin’ fried like chicken nuggets, but i don’t care, ‘cuz in a jiffy, i’m already up the stairs an’ in my dad’s bedroom.
*dad’s sleepin’. covers on ‘im an’ everythin’. i light up my eye again, an’ i adjust my hand so just a little light peeks out. y’know, like a flashlight.
*after a quick once-over on the desk, i notice there’s no purple on it. or anythin’ close to purple, since all of the blue lights tend to shake things up a bit in terms of color. i look on the nightstand, an’ no book there either. huh.
*but his hand is.
*so i have another trick on my sleeve.
*y’know how i can make objects move without touchin’ ‘em, usin’ just my brains an’ bones? well, if i try hard enough, just hard enough, i can do that too.
*there are quite a few caveats, though. i mean, i can only fly six inches offfa the ground.
*god. the f girls would eat me alive if they ever got ahold of this.
*so i’m right there, my nose almost scrapin’ against the ground, an’ there, with my eye on an’ my hand barely over it, i can still see it. right under his pillow.
*it’s purple. it’s book sized.
*take a wild guess at what that is.
*so i reach up to the bed. i feel like i’m in some sort of horror movie, but i wanna see what’s eatin’ dad up. what’s makin’ ‘im so tired. what’s pullin’ ‘im away from us.
*an’ most of all, what’s pullin’ ‘im away from paps.
*okay. i’ve got this.
*so you know how you’re goin’ towards a table, an’ the table’s all waitin’ for you, an’ then you’re about to show someone this cool trick ‘bout you pullin’ up the tablecloth so fast that everythin’ on the table will stay?
*well, that’s essentially what i did with dad.
*except, um, all of the cups’ an’ plates on the table shattered a little.
*an’ just when i pull it out an’ my dad’s head an’ pillow slam back against the bed, i shortcut my way backdownstairs.
*my nose never touches the ground.

*”Deltarune.” what the heck does that mean?
*it looks like your standard book, except for the fact that it looks like it was smeared right on toriel‘s an’ frisk’s walls. it’s all sewn together just like any other book. no lines on the paper, either. just a slab of slightly yellowed paper, like the sun shone on it way too much. why my dad tried to be this avant-garde, i don’t know. that’s just my dad, i guess.
*so i open it.
*what the-
*one of the first things i notice about it is how hard it was pressed down. like dad just wanted to squeeze the heck outta his ol’ pen just so he can get another one. i can tell he didn’t bother writing on the other side of the page because if he did, it would just be a big ol’ grand slam of a ton of black ink, an’ that wouldn’t solve anythin’.
*but what’s in the book is… real troublin’. real troublin’. looks like he wrote this yesterday- no, wait, two days ago, it’s still 1 in the morning, but the word choice makes it looks like it’s, heh, written hundreds of years ago.
*what in the-?!
*holy crap.
*holy crap.
*holy crap.
*what is WRONG with my dad?
*he’s…. he’s gotta get some sort of help!
*what is wrong with him?
*holy crap.
*holy crap.
*so i kept reading.
*trust me, it gets a lot saner. not less weird. saner. there’s a difference. “weird” is your neighbor spendin’ all day outside, waterin’ a huge garden or somethin’. but “insane” is when the same dude spends all day lookin’ at you. just lookin’ at you, like you’re some sort of prey an’ he’s a hungry hyena.
*so after that, kris falls down this weird portal at school with this chick named susie, who i think is a crocodile or somethin’ at this point. an’ afterwards, they meet this one person named ralsei (who very weirdly is an anagram for “asriel”, an’ i'm gonna say it again, what the heck has my dad gotten into), an’ then there’s this other kid named lancer.
*’xcept the thing about lancer is… he’s kinda familiar.
*i dunno. somethin’ ‘bout the smile. somethin’ bout the bike. somethin’ ‘bout the way he’s a little kid. makes me think my dad wrote ‘im after me. but then again, that still doesn’t explain whatever the heck he got his inspiration for susie or ralsei or any of those clowns.
*so the story kinda ends there so far. it’s a bit long, twenty or somethin’ pages. better than i could eer do.
*i have nothin’ else to do. so i decide to write my own scne. maybe i can just show dad that i’ve gotten in here, that i know what he’s doin’, that i want him to stop. but while that idea comes ragin’ for a few minutes, it kinda dies off, an’ i’m reduced to just tuckin’ it in, hopin’ he won’t see. but i think i can at least make the scene decent, make it somewhat shocking. make it about some sort of shindig. so i start off with that. but i end with kinda sorta maybe a big huge procession with fanfare an’ me tumblin’ down from the sky to greet lancer, announcin’ myself as the “son of god.” or at least the son of this world’s god. which would be dad in this case.
*it’s two am.
*i honestly didn’t know how it mounted to this.
*but what the hay. i shortcut my way back upstairs again, put it back on the desk ‘cuz i’m too much of a pansy to put it back under his pillow. maybe dad will dismiss it. maybe he’ll go, “I’M GETTING MUCH TOO OLD” before writing down more of the story. an’ by the time i shortcut back down, i’m way too tired to care, way too tired to share any more, an’ i plop down.
*thank god my body let me rest this easy.
*i’m up at the top of the tower. someone holds me up. i can see the tiles. my leg is paralyzed. the thunder gets louder.
*i know where this is. i’ve been here before. i must have. i’ve been here since i was four. before the resets began.
*i tried, tried to desperately, to fight ‘im off. gaster blasters. bones. maybe even some “crouching tiger, hidden dragon” drama. but none of it works, i swear.
*so he puts me out a bit farther.
*oh god, not again not again not again not again not again this always happens not again not again not again-
*this time, my ribs hit the tiles.
*it hurts so much i can taste my own spinal fluid.
*an’ i’ve been in enough fights in the judgement hall to know how that tastes.

*so i sit up. i’m a mess. all gaspin’, pantin’, sittin’ up all of a sudden, so sudden that i feel like i’m poor lil’ regan in “the exorcist”. i’m trying to see if my ribs are all there, countin’ up to fourteen, onetwothreefourfivesixseveneight- an’ so on, an’ i’m fine.
*i’m fine.
*but just in case, i walk around the kitchen. try to have a lil’ snack. i still go in the fridge no matter how much the lights hurt my eyes.
*while i’m eatin’, it’s like i forgot it. an’ i’m wonderin’, “hey, why does fridge have the letter d but refrigerator doesn’t?”
*but it only takes me a few minutes to realize that i can still remember it. that it didn’t just vanish.
*an’ i glance at the clock.
*3:22 am.



Mr. Moran
Honors English 11-4
January 16th, 2019
Directions: Read the directions carefully and answer the questions that follow. Incorrectness rules still apply, including failure to comply with certain statements and grammar mistakes.
Your Last Grade: 60%
Worksheet #4 out of 10
Around 10,000 B.C., monsters began to use pottery as storage vessels, after thousands of years of humans making this revelation. Monsters, behind the humans as per the norm, discovered that the farther north or south one moved, the more extreme the climate would get. This spread them farther and farther, like a disease or a wildfire, both of which are destructive and bring nothing beneficial to our country. This promise fell flat, as for the most part, monsters were still very much scattered across the Earth. They made the treacherous discovery that farming was more effective than hunting and gathering, and while they still were in clans and were nomadic, their population experienced a bump, putting the humans in unspeakable danger. But in 10,000 B.C., humans figured out how to defend themselves in the divine art of war. The first wars against monsters broke out, and while in terms of fighting, monsters proved to be terrifying foes, they often died at a mere fraction of what it would take to kill humans, proving that humans truly were the strongest of the two species. This was one of the most important, and the most beneficent, discoveries that humans and monsters would ever make. The monster’s population rightly suffered, and it no longer became stable. Even now, they have not been able to achieve stability, the final stand from humans still taking a toll on monster population today. But starting in 10,000 B.C., the monster population was stuck in complete fluctuation. Humans even developed the noble idea of domesticating monsters and subduing them to their rightful place, but this idea was tragically crushed.
In 7,000 B.C., a few monsters began to pick up on the practice of ancestor worship, a pagan and abhorrent practice. In a stroke of miraculous luck, it was only used for secular purposes, such as blessing crops for the next harvest, instead of it originating from deep inside monsters’ SOULs. This kept them from making the precarious discovery of their own SOULs, keeping the humans safe.
In 5,000 B.C., monsters, for the most part, stopped evolving from their brutish natures, and looked very much what they look like now. But their intelligence increased, as slight as it was. Its progress was slow and spotty, and by the time Christianity came about, their intelligence was about the same level as humans’, although the monsters do not often display this today. But the last of their actions was more treacherous than anything they had managed before: they stopped becoming nomadic. They learned how to build permanent houses, establishing their own towns and eventually, cities. These cities would triumph over the world, oppressing the humans, until in the medieval era, they were finally sent down to their rightful places. This will be discussed in a future article.
Question #1: Why would the discovery of farming be described as “treacherous”? Synonyms for “treacherous” include “hazardous”, “perilous”, and “risky”.
Answer #1: *’cuz the humans were scared at the time that monsters would take over everythin’. an’ farmin’ would let the monsters have a high enough population to keep goin’. so there y’have it.

Question #2: What groundbreaking discovery did monsters make that proved them inutile in battle?
Answer #2: *we’re kinda weak in terms of hp an’ all. but mother nature tends to balance things out, accordin’ to this story.

Question #3: What discovery did monsters make that led them to scatter across the Earth?
Answer #3: *the farther north you get, the colder it gets. the farther south you get, the hotter it gets. that’s at least in the northern hemisphere, anyway. it’s opposite in the southern one.

Question #4: Provide at least three synonyms for “unspeakable”.
Answer #4: *”indescribable”, “inexpressible”, an’ “unutterable”.

Question #5: What form of religion did the monsters take up first in history?
Answer #5: *ancestor worship.

Question #6: Some monsters still practice burying loved ones under trees, adhering to the principle that some types of dust aid in the tree’s growth. However, some monsters also attend Mass where they can wriggle themselves in. Using this information, what type of religion do the monsters undertake now vs the religion they claim to be practicing under?
Answer #6: *based on the info, i’d say they were pagan, but they were also christian. i would say more about what buryin’ monsters is really like, but i want my diploma, don’t i?

Question #7: If a monster from 4,882 B.C. met a monster in one of our schools, what would be most remarkable about it? What about its features would shock you the most?
Answer #7: *it looks just like me. assuming it was a skeleton, that is.

Question #8: In the future, what can you predict that the humans will do in response to the current oppression they are facing from monsters today?
Answer #8: *keep on oppresin’ ‘em right back. it’s what they’re good at.
*hey. even the article says so. they put up a good fight, didn’t they?
*didn’t they?

Chapter Text

Mr. Moran
Honors English 11-4
18 December 2014
*look. i haven’t wrote a lot. i know.
*in fact, i haven’t written at all since october.
*no assignments since then, though. thank god. that was more sickenin’ than anythin’.
*but sometimes we need to stop writin’ a bit. i mean, i hope my dad would stop writin’ a bit. “deltarune”’s exploded to ten thousand words. kris is gettin’ not beaten up, susie is beatin’ up strangers, lancer is gettin’ beaten up by his dad, an’ i’m tryin’ to comfort him so no one gets beatin’ up. anyways, i hope my dad would stop writin’ a bit. then my bro would be happier. then i would be at least a little happier. but mostly ‘cuz my bro would be happier.
*y’know what i’m sayin’?
*anyway, it’s almost christmas now, so i’m pretty pumped. there’s snow scattered across the ground at this point, an’ there are a few sticks of grass still pointin’ out, but i’m still takin’ a hit for it. still sleepin’ more. still eatin’ more. still takin’ in a lot more, an’ not givin’ anythin’ back. not really doin’ anything.
*still, none of the little discrimination problems we had got any worse. still the same ol’ trailers, still the same ol’ “we’re allowed in school when class isn’t happening because you all need lunch, right? or do monsters even eat?” policy. some of my friends put on some big christmas decorations. we started off with some “stringers”. streamers is too fancy for what we did. we cut out some pieces out of construction paper an’ all of that durin’ study hall. we were kinda proud of it an’ all. an’ there was a little fuzzy feelin’ that came to me, but i managed to push it right back down. y’know?
*that was until some jerk seniors showed up an’ pulled the stringers down in “one fell swoop”, as my english teacher would call it.
*eh, who needed that anyway? it woulda clashed with the walls.
*anyways, i was goin’ to take a shortcut home, but then my pocket started explodin’ with buzzes. at first, i thought it was just a joke from faun- god, she loves her phone- but when i saw it was dad, that got me sittin’ at the front bench ‘till four o’clock came. least faun an’ nacarat did end up stayin’. we all started jokin’ around at the little couple-esque relationships the seniors were havin’ an’ the way one of them bumped against one of the lockers while kissin’ up one of his girlfriends. that’s right, i said one of his girlfriends. that got me laughin’ in a messed up way. but that was alright, ‘cuz we were all laughin’ like that. an’ for a sec, i forgot there was a reset that might happen.
*friendship, amiright?
*finally, the red lil’ tahoe came up. there was a little face in the back, although i couldn’t quite tell who it was. pretty darn human, though. skin darker than ours, all peach-n’-caramel colored instead of frickin’ snow. i’m startin’ to question what the heck is goin’ on here,
*so i says, “hey, guys, what the heck is goin’ on here?’ an’ they reply, “It’s your dad, you have to go there no matter what’s going on,” and i’m there in a few seconds without teleporting even once.
*dad’s got this wide-eyed look on his face, like he’s a small, furry lil’ animal on one of those nature shows, an’ a lion is pouncin’ up right behind him. claws, all big an’ sharp-
*”dad? what the-”
*paps is there too. he’s in the back, all scared. frisk is starin’ out the window, an’ as soon as paps starts cryin’, i don’t hesitate gettin’ in there.
*so we go off on the road. i’m just sittin’ there, an’ paps is lettin’ me hug ‘im this time. i give ‘im little pats on the shoulder, just like we did when the both of us were kids. he stops shakin’, at least, but he doesn’t stop cryin’. not by a long shot. the road blows by us, past all the places i thought we were goin’. the police office. boom. right by. undyne's house. boom. right by. the library, even. boom. right by.
*our house comes up right on the corner.
*as we’re all haulin’ our butts outta there, frisk kinda looks a bit to the left, an’ then they start joinin’ in the cryin’. at first, i’m a bit convinced to join in, but screw that. i don’t even know what we’re cryin’ about, an’ a part of me doesn’t really wanna find out, y’know?
*soon as we’re in, a breeze blows in. chills me to the bone, if you wanna go in that direction. soon as gaster comes in the door an’ there’s no one by the tahoe again, i shut the door. by the time that’s over with, gaster an’ the rest of us are over at the table. frisk is beside themselves in the livin’ room.
*an’ that's when the judge part of me starts kickin’ in. i know it is. an’ i know it won’t leave. but i ask the question, just in case. but i’ve got a horrible feelin’, a feelin’ that makes me sick to the stomach. even sicker than the questions i had to answer a few months earlier.
*still, i ask it.
*”what’s goin’ on? shouldn’t we tell toriel or someone about all of this?”
*an’ dad stops lookin’ at me an’ stops lookin’ at his hands.
*an’ i know then that we’d never see toriel again.
*look. i didn’t cry about it. we weren’t close at all. she barely knew who the heck i was,, even if the f girls are capitalizin’ on it nonstop.
*but the next day, after i put on a real expensive suit with a real tie an’ everythin’ the next morning, i find out what it was. a heart attack. a big, huge one, at that. an’ from the look of it, it seems her brain was involved in it, too. twitchin’, like she was havin’ a seizure. i’d be lyin’ if i said that i didn’t see it comin’.
*frisk is still sittin’ at the kitchen table. fiddlin’ at their waffles, an’ i guess the rest of us are too.
*i nod. put another waffle in the toaster. still thinkin’ ‘bout how different everythin’ will be from now on.
*i cough. some of my waffle i’m already eatin’ comes out a frothy mess on the plate.
*this is how i know things have gotten out of hand. my head starts to weigh a million pounds, an’ i’ve gotta set it on my hand before it crushes me. feign a nap; why not? everythin’s kinda a blur.
*sure, i’ve gone to the surface about ten times in the resets. moved into this house seven of them. had dad buy the car five of them. made the same friends three of them. had toriel die in two of them. heck, even had all of the discrimination happen once. but not this. never this. neverthis, neverthis, neverthis, neverthisneverthisneverthis-
*screw the waffle. i’m about to throw it up.
*”sorry, what?”
*oh, god.
*”dad, i-”
*i need to think, dad. i need to think. how do i phrase this, all of this? my stomach’s all discombobulated, an’ my brain’s gettin’ that way fast. i need to think. c’mon, think, sans. they still might reset, though. they still might-
*”dad. i’m not sure if we can take care of them, ‘cuz at any moment, they just might up an’-”
*they stop cryin’ for a few seconds an’ glare at me.
*oh god, oh god.
*think, think, think, think, think, thinkthinkthink-
*”at any moment, they just might up an’ get nabbed by some other humies because they’re with us. the world isn’t safe. at least that’s what i’ve come to hear of it.”
*dad pauses for a few moments. thinks in his funny little scientific way, with his imaginary hair all crazy an’ roamin’ this way an’ that. frisk’s cryin’ again, more than i would’ve expected. paps gets a blanket for ‘em, an’ i can’t help but smile a bit as frisk pats paps on the back.
*look, mr. moran. i’m not gonna bore you with the details on the funeral an’ all. dad was all dad-ish, whisperin’ a few mini- lessons to paps while bein’ all serious. by the time they’d gotten outta the church gathered by the tree, said all the requiem prayers (i still get chills with dies irae when they mention “quando iudex est venturus, cuncta stricte discussurus”), an’ started to lay the lil’ jar under, i take a look around. poor asgore’s sittin’ in the back, just starin’ at the floor. just starin’, an’ he looks like ths sort of empty that i shudder whenever i sink down to. faun an’ nacarat are here, probably ‘cuz they heard we were comin’. i can see asriel’s face, all shakin’ like a leaf an’ a cryin’ mess, on an ipad on one of the front row seats. an’ frisk is…
*wait, frisk is somewhere else.
*eh… maybe the bathroom or somethin’.
*so i wait ‘till they finish the dies irae an’ start the prayer of commendation before i set off.
*asgore doesn’t even look at me.
*no sense doin’ shortcuts now. not when i don’t know where frisk is.
*i don’t start callin’ out, “frisk! frisk!” they way i would’ve if i was in a movie or somethin’. i take a look at all the normal places- the bathroom (okay, might not have been the smartest idea), the snack bar, anythin’ where i would’ve headed if i might be frisk.
*then there’s the woods next to the parkin’ lot.
*what the hay. i go there. mostly ‘cuz i need a break myself. if they’re goin’ to reset, anyway, what’s the big deal about funerals? what’s the big deal with death?
*what’s the big deal with life?
*ah, jeez.
*so i take a lil’ break over by one of the nicer lookin’ clearin’s, not littered with trash or anti-monster stuff. there’s a paper towel, all dirt-an’-crap-an’-a-tad-of-snow covered, here an’ there, but beggars can’t be choosers, amiright?
**so i sit down, right? wait a few seconds. look at the bark of some of the trees in front of me. wonder if this is really right. if this really is all unique.
*if it’s really worth goin’ on like this or-
*so i jump back. it’s frisk, but it’s undeniably loud. still frisk. still high-pitched, like a kids’ voice is. somewhat. alright. not very high-pitched at all. but still frisk.
*”woah, jeez, kid, you gave me a scare or-”
*wait, what?
*alright. i know my brain’s all messed up ‘cuz of the resets. an’ i know when your brain’s messed up, all sad an’ not wantin’ to sleep or eat, you start to see things sometimes. but this is… somethin’ else. it’s like i can almost feel frisk’s feet off the ground. two inches like i was. or something like tha-
*no. no. no. this has gotta be a hallucination. somethin’ that’s a byproduct of my brain, not wanting any more resets. not wanting it so bad that it makes… THIS.
*’cuz frisk ain’t lookin’ at me, that’s for certain.
*they’re lookin’ at the huge box right in front of ‘em with two big, huge, ugly choices on it.
*i knew it. i knew it all. this always happens. i know it can’t last. i mean, i’m too lazy. i don’t do anythin’, really. i don’t do anythin’ to deserve it all movin’ forward, y’know? an’ at least toriel will still be alive. that’s while they’re doin’ it, right? forget the hallucinations. that’s probably my brain, all confused. forget it all. forget it all. forget it all. toriel will still be alive, alive, alive, alive, alive, alive, ALIVE, i want to LIVE, i want to LIVE, really LIVE-
*there’s a shattering sound.
*when i look back to frisk, their feet are back on the ground. they’re bleedin’ somewhat, an’ they’re starin’ down at their feet , eyes open like a toads. i’m not back at home.
*not back in snowdin. not back in snowdin. not back in snowdin.
*there are pieces of glass. shattered. everywhere.
*no more choices.
*only glass now.
*only glass.
*”frisk… did you… did you really…”
*they look at me, an’ the smile is so wide on their faces, their eyes so big an’ brown’ an’ wide now, an’ i don’t care, an’ i’m rushin into their arms, an’ i’m crying, the grass is greener now, it’s rainin’ on it even though there’s no clouds in the sky, i’m cryin’, i’m cryin’, i can almost feel toriel smilin’, but i’m sobbin’ down here, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, i can sleep now, i can eat now, god, i can eat now! thank you, oh god, thank you, i’m cryin’, all messy, all happy, happy, an’ they’re sayin’ how it’s okay, how it’ll all be alright, an’ i’m sayin’ i know, i know, i know.
*i know.
*i know it’ll be alright.
*thank you, thank you. more cryin’. i hear more pitter-patters, comin’ up in a steady drumbeat up the woods, an’ the parkin’ lot comes back up in my memory from where it’s gone so far before. thank you, thank you so much, thank you. i catch a little tear on my chin, an’ i start laughin’, laughin’ like that stupid tear is the funniest thing in the world, even funnier than i am. thank you, thank you. paps comes up. doesn’t even ask why i’m cryin’, just says that toriel was the greatest mother in the world an’ he just keeps on huggin’ me, an’ i just keep on cryin’, an’ cryin’. dad comes up an’ says it’s going to be alright, son, everyone has their own grieving process, an’ i’m still cryin’, an’ i’m still cryin’.
*frisk can stay, for all i care.
*oh, god, can they stay.
*i’ve stopped cryin’. but i’m still shakin’. i’m not sure if the shakin’ will ever stop.
*college. marriage. i mean, maybe havin’ my own kids. they have their own definitions now. death does, too. but what does that matter?
*what now?
*frisk tells me what now. they tell me, half screamin’, hafl yellin’. the monster discrimination is escalatin’, they say. it’s bad, they say. extremely. dangerous, even.
*”i know,” i say back to ‘em. “i know. i’ve been through it. it’s in school, remember? i’ve told you about this. remember all of the times i visited you an’...”
*an’ i stop, ‘cuz i know that frisk will cry. an’ the last thing i want for them now is for them to cry. now when they’ve made me cry. all of my tears for today was enough. it was more than enough.
*but frisk keeps on sayin’ how it’s dangerous for monsters to be around now, that i need to get out right now or else my family will be even more in danger. i just smile an’ laugh. “i know. i know all of this. everyone knows all of this. i want you stayin’ with us more than anythin’, but it’ll be a wakeup call for you, y’know?”
*they keep on goin’ on. but i just hug them. an’ paps hops in the car an’ asks if we can go to mcdonald’s on such a sad day, what with me cryin’ like this. he’s the coolest dude in the world.
*it’ll be a wakeup call for me.
*it already is.
*thank you.
*thank you, everyone. for everything.
*thank you, mr. moran. without you, no diploma for me.
*thank you, deus in caelo, if you exist at all. if you don’t, well, then, thank you to the people who make sure you still kinda do. the people who are supposed to represent you while bein’ decent people to us monsters.
*thank you.
*thank you.
*god, thank you.
Mr. Maron
Honors English 11-4
December 18th, 2014
Worksheet 5/10
Your Last Grade: 95%
Directions: Read the passage carefully and answer the questions to the best of your ability. Incorrectness can be given out based on failure to comply with certain statements. Grammar and spelling will no longer be counted for incorrectness, so long as it is not excessive.
In 3500 B.C., monsters started to learn how to write with a brutishly simple writing system. They could now write books and send messages to one another. Over the next few thousand years- for that is the truly monstrous amount of time it took for them to complete this- their language would evolve from primitive, abhorrent vertical and horizontal lines to a slightly less Byronic system of runes. Although a few runes substituted from onomatopoeia or complex concepts such as death, marriage, grief, and joy, humans had far surpassed them at this point, countless civilizations achieving much more with their languages than monsters could ever hope to achieve.
In 3300 B.C., humans developed a divinely magnificent accomplishment, learning for themselves how to make bronze tools, which, again, caused the monster population to suffer greatly, as they so rightfully deserved. And now that humans learned the art of war, monsters had to be more careful. So they finally, with the utmost examples of brutal basicality, developed the idea of sending out the strongest monsters first instead of just sending out whatever monsters were available. The idea of training monsters for war also came into place, but since monsters are considered by monsters today (and they are quite obviously lacking in correctness) by nature are a peaceful species, the idea didn’t gain much ground and was reserved for a few conflicted areas. However, in those conflicted areas, it flourished, and those areas practically never stopped fighting until after the event that would shape monsters’ lives permanently.
In 2500 B.C., monsters finally picked up on the use of bronze. Paganism also spread, in its festering, religious nature, but only for practical purposes. They started their own calendar, one-fourth of the calendar for each season. In 0 AD, however, they would begin to borrow the Gregorian calendar, lacking the simple sagacity to create their own. Monsters also started to make their own paper, borrowing the word “Papyrus” from Egypt. According to legend, they misunderstood the word “papyrus” as the word “petbe”, which means “retaliation.” They kept this word in their hearts for millenia, and “papyrus” became a common given name, even a title. This massive, tail-chasing stupidity still extended to today. But one of the


*there’s supposed to be more of the story here.
*there are questions here.
*if you’re dyin’ to know what happened next, then all you need to know is we switched from chief leaders to kings.
*but i ripped them out.
*every single question.
*i’m supposed to.
*if someone gives me guff ‘bout my traditions, then let ‘em have it. i want my diploma, now more than ever.
*but more importantly…
*probably most importantly...
*’no one makes fun of my brother.

Chapter Text

Mr. Moran
Honors English 11-4
February 26th, 2015
*a lot’s happened, i know. more than i wanna write. even more than the a lot that’s happened since i last wrote in this thing.
*i know you’re probably wondering, “Wow, Sans! You have the reset button destroyed, you have Frisk with you, you have everything you could possibly need! Aren’t you happy?”
*i mean, yeah. i’m still seriously happy, don't get me wrong. i mean sometimes, when i wake up an’ i get six hours of sleep instead of four, i can’t help but smile for a few seconds. an’ whenever i go to church (which at this point has separate pews, monsters all the way on the left, humans all the way on the right), the incense just smells a little better than i remember. an’ when frisk does somethin’ little like letting me take a shower first, i say more “thank you”s than it probably deserved.
*but it works like a treadmill.
*the speed slows down. at first, you think, “thank god. a break.” an’ you slow down, an’ you feel great. but you start to get used to it, as sickenin’ as it is. an’ it gets harder to run. an’ i’m not tryin’ to be ungrateful, y’know? i mean, i still feel happy. you bet i do.
*christmas came an’ went. i didn’t ask for anythin’ ‘cuz of what frisk did, but dad bought me this real overpriced rubik’s cube an’ this one book ‘bout how bein’ a real man basically means bein’ mature. an’ paps gave me one of his red scarves. i tried to give it back, but he told me to keep it.
*next day, it was gone an’ back on paps, an’ he was runnin’ all over the house with it, all on his tiptoes.
*he’s the coolest.
*valentines day was, in one word, sucky. the f girls came an’ asked me to bome them, bone them, over an’ over. took out a fun dip stick an’ broke off some of the edges so it was bone shaped, then started lickin’ it. strokin’ it, too. i almost puked, an’ my stomach didn’t settle ‘till i fell asleep that day. i would’ve taken a shortcut or somethin’, but we were in some giant valentine’s day pep talk/assembly. which was perfect.
*but then someone half-barked, half muttered at ‘em to get a life.
*who woulda thought?
*who woulda thought someone who goes on her phone every day before class, someone who changes boyfriends like she changes classes durin’ the school day, woulda done that?
*who woulda thought?
*but whatever, right? you can’t judge a person by what they do, right? my judging abilities aren’t perfect, right? at least that’s what they say.
*so i said thanks to her. told ‘er that i dunno how i would’ve gone through that day if it weren’t for ‘er. reached into my backpack, fussed around a bit, an’ gave ‘er one of my hershey’s i’d won in a class game that day. she was kinda taken aback, so i stopped there. still pretty happy from all the resets. kinda freakin’ people out, i guess. at this rate, i’m probably treatin’ city rats like they’re abraham frickin’ lincoln. but still, i had to pat myself on the back, at least a little. i’d gotten through that day alright.
*i mean, at least i thought i’d gone through that day alright.
*an’ i would’ve if i just shortcutted home that day like i do every day.
*but that day i guess i was just swooped up, by, heh? what was it? “blind ambition”? somethin’ i think frisk suffers in a bad way more than i do, an’ somethin’ i think paps suffers in a good way more than i do.
*it was three o’clock. since it’s february, it’s the time right when the sun shines in my eye as it’s settin’, which i’m not used to since, welp, there WAS no sun in the mountain. an’ i actually have somethin’ to do today. no, not a pun contest. no, not a hotdog eatin’ contest. no, not even a ketchup drinkin’ contest.
*it’s a “future-planning” club. plannin’ what, you ask? well, plannin’... everything. planning what i’m gonna do this year, what clubs i’m gonna join, plannin’ what jobs i’m gonna get, what college i’m gonna get….
*except this time, it’s real.
*the college, the class, the club, the school, everythin’...
*it’s real this time.
*which is why i’m doin’ it. which is why i wanna make somethin’ out of what i’ve got. even if it’s just a bit. even if i don’t think i have nothin’ to give in the first place. even if it’s just havin’ a job checkin’ out groceries at the cash register an’ goin’ to a vocational school or somethin’. while i can, i still wanna make somethin’. at least somethin’ outta this. as much as the humies will allow me to. i’m gonna go to the edges of the bos. an’ then i’m gonna push it. or at least try to.
*’cuz paps deserves it. ‘cuz paps deserves everythin’ i can give.
*so i reach into my locker. i think it’s some sort of trick of the sunlight. it happens a lot. even when i’m supposed to be blind in the eye that’s glowin’, glowin’, glowin’, i still see the colors messed up a lil’ when it glows. so i move away from the sunlight, an’ it’s still there. my locker looks all weird, an’ there’s red spots all across it, like grillbz walked past here this mornin’ and had one of his ketchup bottles explode.
*so i walk away for a bit. shortcut to the water fountain, say hi to some of my human friends i’m not quite sure their names are yet, shortcut back.
*it’s still there.
*all of the red spots.
*so i step back. an’ i notice there’s somethin’ else on the locker, somethin’ that all of the red dots are formin’.
*the letter “M.”
*i’ll let you take a wild guess at what that means. hint hint: it doesn’t mean “human”.
*it’s all across the locker, from top to bottom. some of the ceilin’ is stained, too, which i’m sure the ol’ janitor is sure to be ravin’ about. so i take a sweep, but it’s still my locker, locker 691, right next to the hallway, all different from the rest. all covered with it. the letter m, with a ring surroundin’ it, almost like it’s a messed-up sort of anarchy symbol. but that’s not the worst part. that’s not the part that really gets me.
* in the corner, there’s a signature, done by a brush an’ not by whatever spray can the people used to do this. an’ it’s not even words. just one bone. a femur. followed by another “m”, little this time, an’ an “e” after it.
*it’s the f girls.
*why did i ever think otherwise?
*forget this.
*i kick the locker, my foot phalanges hurtin’ long before the locker would’ve started to dent, before i get all of my stuff out an’ shortcut home to drop it off. i’m never gonna use that locker again.
*an’ i’m out before dad can even ask if i’m alright.
*so i have a dream, right? the fallin’ dream again. i don’t hit the ground this time, but instead, i’m just….floatin’ a bit. an’ then i see somethin’ else. an academy. a lil’ preschool. so i take a peek, the peter pan i am, an’ all these lil’ kids, humans, monsters, are all playin’ along like normal. for a minute, i forget what school i’m in, i forget what’s happenin;, i forget everythin’ about it. it’s like there’s this mist all surroundin’ me. i feel peaceful.
*then i wake up.
*so i go to school like usual. hug paps before i go like usual, promise dad that no, i won’t fail any tests, an’ no, i won’t cause anyone to have lil’ half-uman-half-monster kiddos. an’ i head to my locker, just like usual. for a bit, it’s almost like my dream.
*but then there’s crowds around it. first, it’s a lil’ thing, nothin’ too much to worry about. but then, it starts to grow, starts to glow. no, literally. cellphones are flashin’ everywhere, into my eyes, into the lil’ slats in my locker where my gym clothes used to be, into the hallway where all the monsters are congregated. i join them, ‘cuz what else am i supposed to do? use my powers to get everyone to quiet down an’ then scare ‘em off with a barrage of gaster blasters? (i could, but that would be too insane of me.)
*we’re all starin’ at it. eyes wide. ‘cuz we know this isn’t the end of all of this.
*it’s just the beginnin’. it ain’t gonna stop. an’ it’s somethin’ we’ve all known since day one, but now, it’s hit us like a tornado hittin’ a trailer park in the deep south (as far as i’ve heard).
*anna? she’s just a mess. jaw droppin’, nose flarin’ harder than i’ve ever seen it before. like she smells carrots everywhere. our conversation goes somethin’ like this:
*”My God. My God, my God. I’m so sorry, Sans. If I knew this was coming, I-I would’ve done something, I would’ve made an essay, organized a protest… something. I don’t know…”
*”s’alright, anna. besides, i don’t even hafta use my locker anymore, i can just bring all of my stuff to an’ from school.”
*she looks at my locker like a real monster, not somethin’ like us but somethin’ that really wanted to hurt everyone an’ had no reason to be alive, were to come out.
*”No. No, I don’t mean that.”
*she looks at it again like that, like the monster grew two times its size. like the monster is starin’ his eye straight into mine.
*but her own eyes start turnin’ everywhere. all wild.
*”Sans, look at the teachers.”
*mr. moran is probably chillin’ in the teacher’s lounge, ‘cuz he’s not here, that’s for sure, but a few bigwigs, like principal miley an’ vice principal fresno, are out here with their big pens, jottin’ somethin’ on their big clipboards. a few inches closer, an’ i see two sentences:
*”Implement human-monster identification system. Use locker design.”
*oh, jeez.
*a humie doctor once said i didn’t have any vasovagal problems (which are basically problems that’ll have you go “whoops, i’m unconscious now” in two seconds flat), but they’ve gotta be wrong now.
*so you guessed it. i have to steady myself against the wall to keep myself from fallin’. an’ when that doesn’t work an’ i topple anyways like a jenga game played by two guys who failed tech class, i stretch out my left hand an’ push myself back up using that. i’m not quite a damsel in distress.
*anna doesn’t quite rush over. she more like slightly-faster-than-ambles over. she asks me if i’m okay, but it’s more like a mutter. an’ a few seconds later, she goes off.
*”Look. Call me a conspiracy theorist, but I think I’ve got something real now. I think they’re starting something. I read the clipboard, too. And whatever they’re starting, they’re going off of your locker. Or whatever those frickin’ f girls did to it. And by the look on their faces, they’re starting something horrible.”
*i’m about to tell anna that she’s gotta be wrong, that she’s gotta be bluffin’, until principal miley looks at me with a demented lil’ twinkle in her eye, pointin’ the end of her pen at me like i’m some sort of target before writin’ again.
*yeah, they’re startin’ somethin’.
*an’ it’s somethin’ i don’t necessarily wanna be around to witness.
Mr. Moran
Honors English 11-4
Februrary 26th, 2015
Worksheet 6 out of 10
By 700 B.C., monsters began to have more clearly-defined territories which, despite the monsters’ attempts to pawn it off as peaceful, did in fact instigate scores of conflicts across the world in the three hundred years it took to clearly define them.
In 400 B.C, monsters finally began to acknowledge monotheism, but instead of evolving into Protestant belief, it mostly sprouted into deist religions that believed one god made them and nothing more. This locked access to their SOULs, which was a great military relief for the humans, The monsters, in their vague and unholy called their god equally vague and unholy names such as ¨The Guardian of All,” “The Watcher Supreme,” and “The Ultimate One.” More wars began to break out, monsters barely able to hold on with their current strategy. In their ignorance, it took hundreds of years to form it, whereas humans would likely take only a moment. Even in the monster kingdom did stronger monsters realize the sheer frailty and dull-mindedness of monsters. For they started to betray the more fragile monsters, such as skeleton monsters. As such, in their cowardice, they retreated to live with lesser species with closer fragility to their own.
By 100 B.C., every monster territory was unified, all of the humans in those territories mercilessly deported. In this painful method, humans knew for certain what the boundaries were. Stronger monsters asserted their dominance even further now, spending their free time guarding the gates against humans and once again deporting them, as brutal as the action is in our modern world, should humans come. Paganism, in its unholy inferno, rose in the monster world again because of the Roman Empire, the strongest empire known to man, influencing monster territories and often threatening them with loss of life, as the monsters deserve to be threatened with. This brute force would prove to be ineffective later, but it would take hundreds of years to do so.
By 100 A.D., about sixty years after the death of Our Lord, news of Christianity spread across the monster kingdom, especially in Europe. However, in a move of idiocy that even outstrove the rest of their atrocities, the monsters were so stubbornly practical that their SOULs were still locked despite Christianity’s triumph. Christianity could not be stopped. . However, the monsters knew from fighting the humans, who were much more passionate with their religion and overall rhetoric, that there are seven SOULs in existence: Determination, Bravery, Justice, KIndness, Patience, Integrity, and Perseverance.
Starting 285 A.D., the monsters heard of Diocletian's persecution of Christians. Terrified, they went to territories away from Rome, such as England, Ireland, and France, fending off Romans when and if they came. Meanwhile, other monsters were taken back to Rome. Most perished because of their fragility and shock, but there were a select few who managed to breed, spreading as a cancer, and survive in Rome.

*i think i’ve gotten enough up my culata today. with my locker all messed up, an’ this new policy showin’ up…
*i think i’ll take the zero on this one, mr. moran.

Chapter Text

Mr. Moran
Honors English 11-4
March 9th, 2015
*so y’know all that bull i said last time ‘bout bein’ a “treadmill” an’ all of that?
*it’s wrong. all wrong.
*’cuz today just might even be more special than the last. even if in the last one, i had a future.
*i woke up today. that alone’s awesone. marked off “march 9th” from the calendar. went upstairs, an’ the first thing i did was go into dad’s room to see if the book was out.
*i shortcutted back into my room just like i did that other night, i did a look-see, an’ the book was a third full. whether or not dad wants to make this thing all in this one book or if this is coming out in parts the way some tv shows do, i dunno. but a lot’s happened. so far, lancer’s discovered how much of a jerk his dad really is an’ finds kris an’ susie, an’ wants to hang out with them an’ become friends with ‘em. an’ i can dig that. i can really dig that. just wonderin’ what type of inspiration my dad is rubbin’ off of, though…
*anyway, i really wanted to blow off some steam, like i said earlier. so i flipped back. some of my papers had some red marks on it, an’ i almost had a heart attack, thinkin’ my dad had written for me to stop. but one more look, an’ it was just a few splatters from one of his pens. phew. thank god.
*so i wrote. an’ i wrote, an’ i wrote from the hour i got up ‘til everyone else wakes up, which, since it’s ‘bout one in the mornin’, should be ‘bout five hours. an’ by the time it’s time for everyone to get up, i’m still writin’, an’ i hear a creakin’ above me. still writin’, still writin’, an’ dad comes down the stairs, an’ i can see his blue-an’-black striped sleep pants just before i shortcut my way upstairs an’ put the book back. my heart’s explodin’ by now, so i sit down in dad’s chair, thinkin’ ‘bout how much i need to get in shape. pe’s alright, but maybe paps can be my runnin’ buddy… paps… paps…
*i almost shortcut from my chair, but i end up pushin’ myself from it instead an’ almost run to paps’ room. b’sides, i can’t head downstairs, anyway; my dad’s already there, an’ if i go back to my room, he may wonder where i went.
*i turn on the lights in paps’ room, an’ for the first time in a year, he starts squealin’ for a second before he laughs.
*so i laugh, too. “y’know what day it is, right, bro?”
*he just keeps on laughin’. turns an’ tosses the sheets a lil’, so his toes poke out.
*so i keep on chucklin’, an’ pretend i’m dad, scoldin’ ‘im. “young man, if you don’t get out of bed right this instant, i swear that i’m going to start with my big long speech about how thirteen years ago, i got a phone call from mom in the hospital that you were-”
*so ‘e does get up, an’ i try an’ give ‘im a noogie, which i’d have to stand on my tippytoes to do if he were standin’. “you’re darn right. now go get dressed while i go make you some pancakes.”
*so he laughs some more, an’ i give ‘im one last thirteen-year-old high five before i go down the stairs.
*an’ then i tell frisk that i have no idea how to make pancakes.

*so an hour later, i’m out the door, an’ the pancakes in my bag are steamin’ so hard i can use it as a makeshift glove, the cold not quite bein’ over yet. the kids at the bus stop start givin’ me a thumbs up, way high an’ arched in the back, a sign that they’re way too cold for the bus an’ they want to go to school already. so it’s a big chunk outta me, but i shortcut all of us to school while i’m squeezin’ the life out of my pancakes here.
*i look around the hall. sure, faun an’ nacarat are there, an’ anna’s probably already in the trailer with mr. heckwad hunter, but so are a bunch of people. the key word here bein’ “people”. i can recognize a few, but they start gatherin’ around. more than usual. a crowd, pushin’ me this way an’ that, an’ i try an’ shortcut, but the bus stop already took a big chunk outta me. i try an’ go left, towards my class, but a lot of them, almost all of ‘em, are takin’ the advantage that they’re taller than me. so they kinda ignore me. toss me off to the wayside, y’know? so eventually, i’m forced into the office.
*good ol’ principal miley again. she smiles, but it doesn’t quite stretch all the way up to her eyes. i know that smile. it’s the same smile i’m tryin’ to get rid of ever since frisk destroyed that reset button. the crowd stops gettin’ around me, but it’s all pressed against the edges. they’re all’ movin’ now, but there’s still someone, somewhere, blockin’ the entrance.
*i dunno what’s goin’ on until she gestures to a microphone. it’s bolted to the table, which makes me think it might be connected to the pa system.
*”Oh, Sans! Hello, there.” the smile’s still on her face. wait ‘till i wipe it off. “Be a dear and help me out with the announcements, alright?”
*she notices the little suspicious glare i’m tryin’ to hide, an’ she tries to make her smile wider. all we can do is try, i guess. “I’ll boost your grade in English, if you like. Just do me this one little favor.”
*i look back, an’ it’s like a hydra. two kids for every one blockin’ the door i saw before. so i shrug, an’ her smile fades just a little, an’ she walks into another room an’ gets a piece of paper. she gets right behind me, like i’m a human kid an’ she’s about to cut my hair or somethin’, an’ the bell rings. after about five minutes, the school gets dead quiet. eventually, anna notices me, an’ her expression pops open like she’s watchin’ a horror movie, an’ principal miley shoos her away. i try an’ read the paper, but principal miley rips it away like she’s tryin’ to make a paper cut in my hand. “It’s a surprise,” she says in that sweet little sing-songy way that the counselors like to talk in.
*it’s 8:00. class has just about started. the entire office is so quiet you could hear a piece of lint fall to the carpet.
*”Alright!” she announces, takin’ her hand off of the paper. slowly this time. wouldn’t want to give herself anythin’ close to a papercut, eh?
* she goes right to my side, an’ one of the sweet front desk ladies who looks like she shoulda retired at least eight years ago goes to the other. another smile is on her face, but as soon as i look at ‘er, just a little, an’ it goes right away, an’ it starts to crinkle an’ look like one of paps’ pieces of spaghetti instead.
*so they tell me how to cue up the mic, since i’m “intelligent for a monster”, an’ i feel a lil’ prick when i touch the mic head. stupid static electricity. i have a feelin’ principal miller rigged it that way, though. i glare at her, but she asks me what’s wrong an’ i have to say “nothin’”, ‘cuz you can’t put a woman in jail for static-shockin’ you. though as i read the paper, i really, really wish you could.
*”um, students of springfield high school, uh, this is…”
*”Say your name!” principal miller half hisses. she smiles a bit again.
*”...sans here, an’ this is an executive announcement from hampden county public schools that from now on, all children of extraordinary origin must report to the auditorium at exactly 9:15 a.m. today to be identified to improve school efficiency during special events. this identification will serve as a red card carried in student’s wallets, bearing the uppercase letter ‘m’- hey, hey, what the FUCK-”
*so i try to get away. to summon a bone, i dunno. to do somethin’. ‘cuz they can’t do this to us. they can’t, they can’t, they can’t. so i try an’ try to take a shortcut, but i just shake like i’ve been shocked again with more static electricity. heh. guess the shortcut i did this mornin’ was a bit too much. so i put my head down just to be safe, an’ principal miller just puts a hand on my shoulder an’ says, “Watch your profanity, young man! I’ll have to log that as an incident report.”
*they keep me there ‘till nine fifteen. an’ until then, i’m tryin’ to look around, see if there’s somethin’ i can do to get the cream pie out of this chair so i don’t have to be the bearer of bad news. but by the time i think i can tell ‘em i’ve gotta go take a whiz, it’s already nine fifteen, an’ before principal miller can thank me, i dash my ass back to the history trailer. anna’s there, an’ she’s wonderin’ how the heck they can do this an’ i tell her i can’t shortcut an’ we both rave an’ wonder ‘bout what we’re gonna do. then hunt comes, an’ we pretty much can’t do anythin’ else other than go in the auditorium.
*an’ when the letter m finally comes on, i feel like the m was a hydraulic press.
*yup. you guessed it.
*i feel crushed.

*so i try to stall. find i can teleport to the bathroom stall, but afterwards i feel like faintin', room swimmin' in a pile of gook an' all of that, so i don't do anythin' else. nothin' but try an' tell another flood member who's still in the bathroom 'bout why we're really in the auditorium and what the identification cards are really for, an' he goes sprintin', tells his friends in the hallway.
*at first, i'm concerned. not just for me, but for all of the monsters. if they didn't get this, if they didn't get the REAL reason for the cards, then who knows what the hell else they'll do to us? who knows what the hell else they'll be able to get away with?
*who knows-
*she doesn't cry. she doesn't stop. she doesn't say anythin'. not even frantically lookin' up stuff on her phone. she just stares at the ground, asks me a bit about if i can teleport an' i try an' i almost make it to the end of the hallway, an' when i tell her that's it, she nods again.
*we make our way to the auditorium.
*we don't cry.
*we don't stop.
*we don't talk.
*we just...not be grateful.
*y'know, sometime in the future (god, it gives me chills to say that), i might forget all this high school stuff. forget faun. forget mr. hunt. forget nacarat, hell, even forget anna. but as long as my brain doesn't do something dramatic, like implode, when i get older, there's no way i'm forgettin' this.
*and it's not in a good way.
*we were all lined up in chairs just like usual. almost like we were goin' to a talent show or somethin' , an' a few of the kids tilted their heads juuuuust so until they could get a view of the back of the stage, see if anyone really is comin'. maybe this whole i.d. card is just a prank, they think.
*an' for awhile, with anna still next to me, head finally in her hands, i do. i do pretend this is just a prank, if only for a few minutes.
*but when the names start ringin' out, startin' with "johnny aegbaem," a lil' freshman with skinny little legs an' a too-white face, starts goin' onstage. an' when i see his legs shake more after he gets his card before he almost topples into his chair, the names don't stop. "jaiden aelfreib." "will brochreit." "lacey bryddcoaefa." all of us undeniably, undeniably havin' a monster's name tacked onto the end, but with an undeniable, undeniable human name stuck way up in the front.
*an' when my name is called, the spotlights seem to get... i dunno how else to say it... heavier. everyone seems to be silent. not like the time i went up here to do that comedy skit months an' months ago. even you, mr. moran. you were back there. don't say no, i saw you there. i even saw the snoopy tie that you love to wear with you, as you were pressin' in on all of us, but it's okay, right? you were just followin' what the schoolboard told you to. nothin' you could do.
*an' as the card with the letter m on it seems to cuss me out, the world around me drops, an' as i sit into the seat, i know that there's no, no, no possible way that the world could ever spring back up again.
*so i go back home, right? but i don't teleport. weird, huh? i just walk home with everyone else. we're still somewhat silent, although i try to crack some jokes that only end up with anna starin' at me with the most unnoticeable bit of horror on her face. so i just walk home, the cars blowin' right by us, and we line up in a procession. except the host is nowhere to be seen, the priest locked up in his church. an' as the drivers stick out their middle fingers to the sky, mouth spewin' out every which word they could possibly think of, we still march. our procession doesn't stop.
*at least mine doesn't stop until i get to my neighborhood, an' although it's a doozy, i manage to teleport myself right inside.
*before dad could ask how my day was, i showed him my card, and he went quiet too. real quiet. he just turned away, went back to his scientific work. didn't even call anyone, although i was definitely sure that he'd call everyone he could possibly have access to about this later.
*when papyrus came home, though, he wasn't quiet at all. heh. this only must have been for the high school. while dr. gaster crumples up an' throws away one paper or another, i open up my mouth to try an' tell papyrus what's goin' to happen, but it quickly goes shut once paps gets out a puzzle an' starts glowin' in that way of his, askin' for me to join.
*an' the conversation goes somethin' like this.
*me. "hey paps. how did the day go?"
*me. "heh. sounds pretty accurate, bro."
*so we keep on playin'. my backpack's still in the kitchen, dad workin' his ass off on god knows what. an' by the time the sun falls down outside, the puzzle is almost done. except we can't find one of the pieces. at first, i try to shake it off, but paps keeps on repeatin' about how it's brand new and we must've lost it someplace, an' before long, paps an' i are searchin' all around the livin' room. i'm the first one to find it, but i wait before tellin' paps that it's all wrinkled. probably from whoever was packin' it jammin' it into the top. paps snatches it right out (he doesn't do that a lot, so i gotta know, i gotta know that he's excited), but whenever he tries, he doesn't fit. i have a hard time tellin' him to throw it away, but he finally does, an' dad runs his hands through his temples.
*paps goes back, but instead of givin' me a little speech on why i shouldn't put away the puzzle yet an' how we need to take a picture of it first or else the memory will be all gone, he just sits there for a few seconds. i try to budge 'im, an' he did talk, but only after a few seconds.
*hoo boy.
*"how so? are we a bunch of pieces?"
*i know, i know. i'm goin' way too deep. a few of you are probably cringin' out of your minds right now, an' i wouldn't blame you. but this is my bro. an' whenever he says somethin' like this, he means it, an' i love 'im so much.
*he puts his finger right over the piece out of thousands that's missin', an' i nod.
*i nod, although i feel like i'm shakin' a little bit on the inside. but just a little bit.
*an' as i move in to hug paps, as the first phone call starts comin' in, i see the bright red "M" stickin' out from the side pocket of his backpack.

Mr. Moran
Honors English 11-4
March 9th, 2015
Worksheet 7 out of 10
The monsters barely survived Rome until 313 A.D., when Christianity becomes the official religion of Rome. The Romans forced the monsters to practice Christianity, and did this in a most unholy manner from the unholiest of creatures to creatures that were even more so until the monsters’ SOULs were finally revealed to the world. For the first time in history, the monsters discovered the shape of their SOULs- a white, upside-down SOUL, too fragile for human combat, as history made clear. All of the rest of the monsters had the same type of SOUL. This was an utter disappointment to the Romans, but they still vehemently allowed the monsters to spread Christianity across Europe. And thus, two cancers spread: the cancer of the old, ancient, pagan form of Christianity, and the second, greater cancer: the cancer of the monster race.
They met with their even more brutish peers in England, Ireland, and France, and spread the word. The monsters then become devout Catholics, assumed their truest and most infidelity-filled form, discovering the nature of their SOULs for the first time. To the Romans’ great dismay, the monsters discovered powers given to them through intense channeling to their SOULs. Using these abhorrent powers, powers of magic and heretical paganism, they were able to fend off the Romans and anyone who opposes them, starting their own holocaustal, deadly, virus-like empire across Europe.
In 500 A.D., they started their southern conquests. From then until 700 A.D., they conquered the entirety of Morocco, Algeria, Liberia, and Egypt. They also conquered half of what we know as Saudi Arabia.
In 700 A.D., they started their eastern conquests. From then until 800 A.D., They conquered the rest of Europe to the east and a little of Russia, the temperatures being too harsh for any life, human or monster, to continue any further.
In 800 A.D., they started their northern conquests. From then until 950 A.D., they conquered Denmark and the lower half of Norway and Sweden. They also conquered Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia.
In 950 A.D., the monsters gain control of the astrolabe. They attempt to sail to the Western Hemisphere in order to convert them to Catholicism, but bad weather always strikes them down. But the invention of the astrolabe allows them to conquer areas they weren’t able to reach before, such as Finland, the Faroe Islands, Iceland, and a half a dozen islands. The farthest west they ever reached, however, was Maderia. Now, the monster empire was sprawling across approximately 1/6th of Africa, 1/6th of Russia, and nearly all of Europe. While the monsters did have control over the Western Hemisphere, they were an extremely permissive empire, their kings acting very much as figureheads to humans and most of humans and monsters keeping to themselves, just as they had before the monster empire even began.
By 1100 A.D., the monsters erect beautiful religions monuments all across Europe, mostly of Mary, the Saints, and angels. Crowds of humans gather around it, but when they and the monsters meet, a conflict almost always results because of the sheer resentment between humans and monsters. The monsters then have to relocate the monuments to more monster-heavy areas, causing treasure troves of religious medieval art.

Question #1: List five synonyms for “relocate”.
Answer #1: *budge, dislocate, disturb, move, remove.

Question #2: How did the monsters achieve their goals of seeing inside their SOULs?
Answer #2: *they started prayin’. prayin’ a whole lot. it was cruel, but it made them see the inside of their SOULs. an’ then, when the monsters were free, people started to see that prayin’ was really beautiful an’ that the romans had just forced ‘em too. i’m not sayin’ to try prayin’ or anythin’, but that’s just how it worked for me. an’, heh, you all are the tolerant ones. so far, you haven’t tolerated my prayin’, or anythin’ close to it.
*but i can hope, can’t i?

Question #3: What is an observation you can make based on the fact that the monsters began their colonization over humans?
Answer #3: *they were stronger in battle an’ had better survival instincts. that’s why.

Question #4: What are the parts of the word “conquest”? Make sure to provide the country and what the parts mean.
Answer #4: *well, it came from latin. since they were big on, y’know, conquering, they had to invent a word for it. the word was “conquirere”, by the way. means, well, “to conquer.” toldja they had to invent a word for it.

Question #5: Why is Europe, and most of Massachusetts, so heavily steeped in Catholicism?
Answer #5: *you have the pope to thank for that, buddy.
*thanks for not bein’... all the way biased, y’know?
*at the end there, you kinda backtracked for a bit.
*an’ i know this might be some sort of accident, but i appreciate it.
*mr. moran, i dunno what you did to bribe ‘im. you’re probably sacrificin’ your bonus right now, for all i know.
*but keep it up, alright?

Chapter Text

Entry #12
Mr. Moran
Honors English 11-4
May 7th, 2015
*a lot’s happened. but then again, not a lot’s happened.
*at school, nothing else has happened. other than me goin’ through a bunch of units as usual. at first, the students started rantin’ and ravin’ about the new “m” requirements. even some of the humies joined, guys an’ gals alike, which made me feel seriously, seriously good inside.
*but after a few weeks, as i predicted, nothing happened. nothin’. a few months. nothin’. finally, the few humans an’ monsters that were left were made fun of by everyone else, so the protests stopped.
*the soldiers at the school could’ve had to do with that.
*i know what you’re thinkin’. “wait, wait, wait. SOLDIERS now? what is this gonna mean?!” an’ that did sound crazy at first. but then i started realizin’ all of the crime that was goin’ on around here, not just from humies to us, but us back (even though it’s kinda hard to retaliate when you have maybe a thousand of us versus billions of humans).
*an’ while i’m not the happiest about this happenin’, they’ve done some good things. they’ve stopped some kids that were high on this or that drug. they’ve confiscated a weapon from crazy kid the next day. they helped to stopped somethin’ circulatin’ around the internet that’s really been hurtin’ someone. an’ that’s super helpful.
*still, that doesn’t account for the occasional monster in the morning that shows up all beat-up to the school nurse right after bein’ okay when they were on the bus.
*but other than that…
*nothing’s really changed.
*i still pull out my “m” card after sayin’ goodbye to paps- otherwise, i won’t be let inside the classroom. i still hafta pull it out durin’ lunch to get a bit of food, durin’ gym so i can play games, an’ most importantly, most importantly, i hafta pull it out in order to leave school.
*the words “systematic oppression” haven’t been mentioned by anyone once.
*but my friends are still my friends, still rootin’ for me. an’ most humans… they’re still most humans. they still wonder why the hell we haven’t practically kicked ourselves back in the underground simply by bein’ more “brutish” than they are. they still wonder how do we still exist and how can i live with such a small head (an’ therefore, a small brain). some of them still support us, but the second they do that, the majority treat those humans like they’re one of us. an’ for a second, i’m glad they do.
*oh, yeah. i turned seventeen.
*it was nothin’ big, really. not like sixteen, which is apparently a big milestone in human culture. an’ not like eighteen, which is legally a big milestone.
*paps just got me up much, much more early than usual, an’ i could see just a few gray bounces under his eyes. he was yellin’, yellin’ “IT’S YOUR BIRTHDAY, BROTHER, IT’S YOUR BIRTHDAY, BROTHER, WAKEUPWAKEUPWAKEUP,” but it was in a way that made me smile, a way that reminded me that, hey, i lived. i lived for sixteen whole years.
*the kitchen table had a bunch of stuff all over the place. tons an’ tons of junk food, an’ the stove wasn’t even on yet. not one tray of spaghetti in sight. there were blue streamers everywhere, left an’ right, letters cut out of construction paper underneath it a rainbow “HAPPY SEVNNTEENTH BDAY SANS”, so aptly spelled. my telescope had been dragged out of my room, probably scratchin’ the bajeezus out of my bare poplar floor, but who am i kiddin’? this is papyrus. this is papyrus. i hugged ‘im, told ‘im he’d outdone himself. he smiled an’ all, but i heard the quietest of a whisper from ‘im. “I KNOW.”
*meanwhile, gaster an’ frisk sorta hid in a corner. that was until the “star wars” theme started blarin’ out of the speakers, loud enough to make paps’ legs go all rigid an’ then start bucklin’ before he starts yellin’ an’ putting his hands right over his ears before he turns it down.
*”Sorry, son. Sorry.” gaster’s still smilin’, still smilin’.
*still smilin’. that entire day, through all the comedy movies, through the times we called pizza for both lunch an’ dinner, through all the comedy movies we watched, through the couple of hours we tried to go to the planetarium but were quickly sent outta there… we were still smilin’.
*an’ that’s all that mattered.
*couple of weeks after that, somethin’ finally memorable happens at school. finally, we don’t have to go to hunt’s class, an’ instead we go to science. honors science. it’s chem, not physics, so it’s not that interesting compared to what i’m into, but it’s still somethin’ relatively easy that i can get a good grade on, text my friends in, an’ leave so that i can graduate. we were doin’ a project on kinetic theory or whatever. i made my way through, stutterin’ through some of the astoundingly hard scientist names. thankfully, the f girls aren’t here, but that doesn’t stop some kids from snickerin’.
*but when anna came up, she started with one that was a: much more professional than mine, b: much more professional than mine, an’ c: much more professional than mine. she started goin’ off on james clark maxwell’s equations havin’ to do with electromagnetic kinetics, an’ i just about passed out.
*put my head in my arms an’ alla that, the kids i’m pals with at the table kinda pokin’ fun at me for a sec. an’ i would’ve fallen asleep all the way if the teacher hadn’t said somethin’ along the lines of this:
*”Well done, Anna. You… you’ve obviously managed to show a lot of craftsmanship here. But I’ve- I want to ask you a question. Do you think you deserve an A?”
*i could feel just about thirty pairs of beady little eyes settlin’ in on her, mine included. i stopped an’ looked right to the floor when i saw her face freeze, which never happens. ever. just saw the powerpoint light goin’ across her forehead, just saw her own beady little eyes reflectin’ into the light. if she said no, people would think she wanted attention. an’ if she said yes, people would think that she was way too arrogant. so she was screwed.
*an’ she knew that. “I’ll have to take another look over your rubric first, ma’am.”
*after over a half a minute that was way too awkward for even a guy like me (already awkward things tend to be way too awkward when you’re pokin’ yourself to be awake for it), anna went on her computer.
*kids were all quiet. not even the rowdy ones right next to me started laughin’. -one of the kids next to me even took out his earbuds. slowly. it went right under his ear an’ then dropped onto the table, an’ then it was almost silent…
*she went up just as the earbud fell to the floor.
*”Ma’am, it looks like my presentation does correlate with the rubric…”
*the silence got worse. “And what would that mean in terms of grades, honey? Would that be an A?”
*the “honey” looked like it was slidin’ right down anna’s throat, ‘cuz she started gulpin’. she looked right at the ground again.
*”Yes, ma’am.”
*the silence seemed to go into the next room. by now, we could all hear the clock tickin’, tickin’, tickin. bell was still a minute away, but it felt like we’d only been in here for just a little while.
*”And do you think you’re better because of recent events?”
*she popped her head right out of her lil’ rabbit hole. “What do you mean, recent events?”
*we didn’t know what to say. only the bell knew what to say at least three minutes after the teacher finished what she had to say, shut off the smartboard, an’ told anna that she’d be going to the regular science class instead of honors from now on.
*but what she said stuck in my mind for the rest of the week, at least.
*”Do you really think that you’re better than anyone else? Does your think your species is better because of that presentation?”
*an’ what anna said back, nose flarin’, flarin’, would stick in my mind for definitely a month or so.
*”No. Nobody’s better. We’re both the same. We both have blood, and it’s both red. Nobody’s better than anyone else.”
*that was when the teacher shut off the smartboard.
Mr. Moran
Honors English 11-4
May 7th, 2015
Worksheet 8 out of 10
The Roman Empire fizzled out hundreds of years before its time, at about 320 A. D. The monster kings conquered and devastated nearly every area of Europe, our verdant Europe atop our most verdant world, from the very top of Africa, including the whole of Tunisia, the entirety of Turkey, and the entire Western Hemispheres, which had yet to be discovered by the known world. We can only imagine the amount of conflict, the atrocities that happened over in the hidden Western Hemisphere, that which we call our beloved homeland. Yet in Europe, an even greater atrocity was to be carried out: utter genocide.
Humans upon humans slaughtered whenever they disagreed with monsters. Mothers crying out for their children, their cries flooding back to unhearing ears. Blood, blood scattered everywhere- on the floor, on the walls, entrails heaped with them. Here, the monsters truly showed their ferocity, and the bloodlust and utter hate wreaked havoc on their eyes, wreaked havoc on every possible land that dared to defy them. And yet a new dimension to this level of chaos was about to unfold: the monsters allied with the Pope. Thus, with this, they could even force humans under control, adding a new dimension, a disgraceful territory of bloodlust and death.
We can never forgive them for this atrocity. We must do all we can to stop them. They can never assume this much power again. We must brand them. We must taunt them. We must treat them like cattle, the same way they have treated us for millenia upon millenia.
This is the reason for our existence.
This is the reason they must not exist.




*do you know how many times i heaved into the toilet after readin’ that one, mr. moran?
*an’ do you know how many times i felt like i stopped breathin’?

Chapter Text

Mr. Moran
Honors English 11-4
September 23, 2015
*man… so much has happened. i don’t think i’m gonna be able to write all of it down, even if i tried.
*but i’ll try to write down… not so much. but i’ll write enough that you get the idea, and maybe laugh a bit here an’ there too.
*anyway, anna gettin’ kicked down to the freshman class ended up not doin’ diddly. that was because school was endin’ in a matter of weeks, an’ we couldn’t technically make any changes to the schedule until next year. long story short, they don’t know what class anna’s gonna be in.
*oh, yeah. i did end up graduatin’ my junior year despite all of my foolin’ around with the answers an’ all. it happened in a real awkward way, too. after gettin’ my super small, super blue graduation uniform (i mean, it’s me, do you really expect anything else), i waited an’ waited for what i timed as exactly one hundred an’ seventeen minutes before goin’ onstage. i mean, i walked super slow because i thought the principal was goin’ to do somethin’ like tellin’ me that i failed in front of everyone.
*but… she handed me the diploma anyways.
*alright. more like a toss that was gentle enough that the audience didn’t see. but still, i got the diploma. paps stayed a lot quieter, didn’t rebel as much as i did (if you really can call not doin’ a few papers “rebelling”), so he got his degree just fine.
*but… i’ve gotta admit it. there were still a few people in the corner who didn’t come up on stage. who were kinda tossed to the side, kinda just… there. an’ blow me down if some of those kids weren’t the more… vocal ones durin’ the school year.
*we went up to grillbz’s. one of the few restaurants that’s still around for us. after goin’ in the line of about a hundred or so folks, we sat down. talked. laughed. maybe accidentally squirted one or two or five ketchup packets at each other. maybe got into a tickle fight because we’re so much more mature after graduation.
*five minutes after we ordered our food from grillbz, the traffic started to slow into the restaurant. got real quiet, even though there were hundreds of people here, even a few kids here an’ there that were just about as rambunctious as we were. so i started to say somethin’. get us all in the mood, y’know?
*me. “hey, guys. got somethin’ to tell you. might sound borin’ at first, but it’s not. i swear.”
*dad. “Continue.”
*me. “well, i’ve been doin’ some journal entries for school, an’ the last one… really shook me up. it… might’ve been what kept you up that one night in may.”
*dad. “What night- oh, that night! I remember working on a theorem for genome sequencing of monk seals that I’ve been working on for ages, and…”
*i laughed a bit. “no. i mean, i’m interested an’ all, but i’d like to…”
*dad. “Yes, I know. Please continue.”
*the quiet seemed to come back again.
*”the last entry i did… it was way back. an’ it came with a prompt.”
*”What did the prompt say?”
*paps had his ear tilted to the side a little, all half-cocked. there was a sweet, slight little smile on his face, almost as if he were waitin’ for me to tell a joke. but the thing is…
*god, i wish it was a joke.
*”the last entry had a lot of monster history. it was back when we were real pianoholes…”
*paps covered his ears. i kinda smiled, but it wasn’t that big at all.
*”sorry, paps. anyhow, it was about all of that. an’ the things we did then were really disturbin’, an’ i don’t wanna ignore that part at all. but at the end, it said… it said that this was the reason that we shouldn’t… exist.”
*an’ then, the quiet seemed to rear up like a horse. there were a few conversations here an' there, but they all just kinda...stopped. even my pal grillbz stopped messin' around with his dishes. towel just went still, heavy, an' then flopped to the table.
*an' as soon as the silence came, i knew.
*i knew nothin' was ever gonna be the same.

Chapter Text

Mr. Moran
Honors English 11-4
September 23, 2015
*an' y'know what? nothin' ever really was.
*instead of being happy, the summer was...awkward. again, a tad too awkward for a guy like me.
*we mainly stayed inside. heh, not that i’d imagine anything different. because of the huge monster population around my neighborhood, at least, we did go outside some to do repairs and whatnot. but we didn't do anythin' like gettin' ourselves sick at the county fair or gettin' ourselves soaked at the water park or anythin' like that.
*good news is, though, i got to know the kid a lot. went all sorts of places with 'em around, at least. they acted as kinda a pass, as sad as that is. but hey, really got to pass some time with them an' the family.
*but as much as i got to know somethin' great about 'em that i can joke about or smile about or use at the gift store or somethin', i leaen‘d manage to learn just a lil’ piece of suomethin’ that was… well… weird. an’ not the good kind of weird. they’d do things like go off on a rant of how monsters thought they were just as good as humans, an’ then apologize a few minutes later.
*but i do know a ton, i mean a SKELE-TON of other things about them athat just about outshines that one part. like the way they always forget a napkin wen they’re eatin’ an ice cream, so it always goes goofy right across their face. an’ before they would leave for remediation over the summer, they would always do a little skippin’ move towards the car. i stll remember the time we went to the apple orchard with frisk, an’ how frisk, along with my dad, was the only one who knew that the pigs were the ones who ate the rotten apples off of the ground. it was some nice stuff. some stuff that i definitely wouldn’t’ve had if frisk wasn’t there.
*yeah, we did stay inside for most of that summer.
*but there was that one time…
*dad was overwhelmed with work. an’ for him, boredom was work. summer meant definitely less college classes for him to prepare for, an’ he’d sometimes finish what he had to do for the kids who were staying at the college over the summer an’ then just stare at the wall for a good, straight half-hour before either workin’ on “Deltarune” or goin’ bonkers, doin’ all this work around the house that even paps wouldn’t be bothered to do at times. so for one day durin’ all the way in july, right in between gettin’ everythin’ settled from my junior year an’ gettin’ everythin’ set up for my senior year, my dad decided that we were goin’ to the pool (on the account that frisk would sit in the passenger seat an’ not paps, of course).
*’course, paps was still overjoyed. he whooped, he spun, he did all of those wonderful things that the doc said he would do.
*god, i love him.
*always will.
*an’ so, we all hopped into our lil’ sedan an’ headed to the pool, all of the floaties an’ crap beside me, bouncin’ up an’ down, an’ it woulda given me a good load of a chafe if i was a humie. frisk sung outside of the window, but darted their eyes when we crossed the human security organization. then again, everyone did.
*no one seemed to talk for about a minute or two.
*oh, yeah, remember that claim about the journal entry? we thought it was some serious, serious shit at first, but then it all kinda fizzled. grillbz had to pick up his towel an’ finish his dishes sometime, anyhow. an’ we were all kinda numb to the humies sendin’ in beat-up monsters to the hospital, an’ some of ‘em started what i could only describe as a strange science experiment mixing combustible materials with the wood inside of specifically monster homes, to see what kind of chemical reaction would result.
*it’s arson. what else did you expect?
*when we finally got there, it was the whole shebang. frisk didn’t think about it, just walked to the mens’ bathroom with the rest of us, an’ i spent the time i got dressed tellin paps an’ havin’ us both laugh about how the kids outside thought i was a second grader an’ did i know about solids, liquids, an’ gases yet.
*so here i am, floppin’ my way out the door with flippers on my feet , a swimmin’ donut right across my waist (an’ i mean a donut, it has inflatable sprinkles an’ everythin’), an’ goggles on both of my eyes. paps is a lil’ less ritually decorated, but he’s still shinin’ with sunscreen. frisk is smilin’, buggin’ my odad an’ tuggin’ his arm to go to the pool. an’ my dad…
*he’s my dad. he brought a book about electromagnetic terminology an’ didn’t bring his trunks.
*anyways, so we walk through the door, an’ we splash around in the pool for one minute, maybe two. me, i go to a lil’ secluded area that’s in between the shallow an’ deep end an’ take a nap. (alright, in hindsight, that probably wasn’t the safest thing, but then again, i am sansone merryweather gaster, an’ i will absolutely assure you that i can an’ will sleep anywhere).
*but what does wake me up isn’t the water.
*instead, it kinda makes me wish it was.
*it’s one of the lifeguards. at first, i thought it was one of the f girls, which almost led me to actually use my flippers to scramble away, but a lil’ tinge in her hair that made it a bit more brown an’ a lil’ mole on her cheek told me it wasn’t. so i relaxed a lil’, tried to apologize an’ tell her that i’ll stop. she tells me to get out of the pool, which is pretty understandable, considerin’ what i just did.
*so there i am. flippers still floppin’ on the edge of the pool. the girl walks away to the gazebo where alla the other lifeguards are hanging’ out, an’ i think i’m fine.
*that is until i see that paps is standin’ up, all drippin’ wet, at the other end of the pool. dad’s right where he is, an’ there’s this expression on his face like he just saw the most bizarre theory he could’ve ever seen in a college classroom. an’ there’s frisk, also drippin’ wet.
*what the-
*an' i hear this laughin'. it's quiet. real quiet. but i think i can manage to point it out from, say, frisk's laugh or a laugh from one of the teenagers while they're readin' a book.
*i'm seriously creeped out. almost like it's some dream gone wrong or somethin', when i noticed that one of the life guards is startin' to goad on dad. dad"s tryin' to hold onto the walls, an' the lifeguard starts yellin' at 'im, an' from where i'm at, i can hear three little words.
*"You fucking monsters…"
*somethin' starts comin' up inside me. call it karma, call it what happens whenever i start judgin', but it's more….more terrifying. somethin’ that tells me that no matter what happens, it ain’t gonna be right. at least ninety-five percent of the time. there WAS that time when i thought that one of paps’ spaghetti recipes was goin’ to turn into a disaster because he put spinach on top of the spaghetti, but turns out i was the one who was bein’ picky about the veggies….
*so i take off the ridicuulous donut on my waist an’ take off the stupid flip flops on my feet , an’ the stupid goggles go down to the pool below where i’m sure i can’t go. i tell paps an’ frisk to stay where they are, an’ the lifeguard yells at me not to yell, an’ i run. not like i want to break the humies’ rules an’ all, but i don’t wanna ruin what little dignity i already have with this pool by teleportin’ to there. i hear the laughin’ again, but i dunno. might have just been me.
*so i go there. try to mouth off the lifeguard who looks like he goes to my high school who’s been mouthin’ off my dad, but my dad looks at me with that “Oh, you’d better not be mouthing off to him” face, an’ i go all quiet.
*my dad. “Look. I apologize for not being aware of the rule, but at the same time, it would be prudent of the county’s recreation department to make it clear.”
*what? i have no idea what’s goin’ on, but my dad’s soundin’ all adorably out of touch again.
*”Oh, and you have a son, too? Great. First they’re flooding into here, next they’re breeding the fuck out of us.”
*i’m about to ignore what my dad has to say to ‘im, ‘bout to do much more than just mouth this lifeguard’s ass to the moon, but he was interrupted all of a sudden by someone else. thank god, looks like someone much older. like a supervisor or somethin’, an’ the lil’ karma-ish thing i had in me starts to die off. just a bit.
*”Earnest, you were supposed to be at your post five minutes ago.”
*he turned around a bit. an’ while i couldn’t see his nose flare, i could definitely feel it. it was a stupid instinct, i guess, ‘cuz when he walked away an’ flipped us off, it wasn’t like any of us addressed it.
*the guy turned around. an older one, by the looks of ‘im, an’ a n older guy who looked like he’d just spilled his food all over the floor.
*him. “Sorry about that. We try to contain discrimination here, but some of us don’t seem to have much respect, I suppose.”
*heh. is this guy joking? i dunno. he’s still funny. tryin’ to keep up some sort of atmosphere of respect. an’ while i guess i can respect ‘i'm for it, he’s still funny all the same. but nobody’s laughin’, not even frisk, who’s waddlin’ their way over here. after they saw us, they started askin’ over an’ over if they could go to remediation, since it was already four, but stopped after the guy raised his hand.
* “But we do ask that our customers follow certain rules. One of them, while I don’t agree with it myself, is that all individuals of extraordinary origin should be exempted from certain public areas, and by the looks of it, it looks like they added public pools to the list.”
*we don’t ask to stay, don’t spew out our own colorful cocktail of not-so-nice words, don’t even say anythin’ back to him ‘xcept a “thank you” for clearin’ it up.
*an’ the problem is…
*we don’t feel nothin’ either.
*nobody starts protestin’, no one starts cryin’, even paps doesn’t start walkin’ faster back to the pool like he does a lot at the library when we’re about to go. we just sort of mosey on back to our gazebo….
*’ take it in, i guess…
*but while my dad takes paps an’ frisk to the changin’ room again, i start cleanin’ up. normally, i’d be too lazy to do somethin’ like this, but there’s somethin’ else. somethin’ that tells me to get me an’ my family outta there if we didn’t want any repercussions, or at least any huge ones. i head my way back an’ grab the goggles an’ sprinkly inflatable donut i dropped back there before i started packin’ up the rest, an’ then, an’ then was when the laugh started to get a lil’ starlin’.
*i heard it. there were tons of people talkin’, but i didn’t really hear ‘em. oh, i heard them. my ears were workin’ fine. but there’s another type of hearin’, the kind of hearin’ that makes you tense up or start soakin’ up excitement ‘cuz you knew it was meant for you. so i heard it.
* “Hey, handsome, you going to save some of that bone for me?”
*shit. i whipped around, thought i could dart to the locker room if i really stretched it, but when i heard an “Ay, ay, papi, over here!”, i knew that it was all gonna go down real hard, real fast if i didn't do somethin' real drastic, real fast. so i got my eye ready to start puttin' up my hand and start pummelin' 'em in case things got really out of hand, but my concentration was thrown off.
*an' it's real easy to have your concentration thrown off when someone's waving a drawing of you enacting in whatever sexual fantasy they want you to.
*an' i had to admit it.
* i didn't feel anythin'. least i didn't feel sad or angry enough to actually start pummelin' 'em or anythin' like that.
*but i did feel somethin' else. i felt the fact that i had nothin' on but swimmin' trunks. i felt the other eyes pushin' proddin', pokin' in on me. i felt the laughin' gettin' faster, i felt the hands of the dandelion-colored clock on the wall stop, almost.
*an' i felt my eyes gettin' wet.
*i dunno why. i guess it felt like they were takin' advantage of me, i guess. but it was real petty, real insincere, real...well...pathetic of me to actually start the waterworks. an' before i could stop 'em, they just started droppin' like flies to the ground, bullets from those ak-47s my brothers' buddies like to mess around with in videogames.
*call me whatever you want. call me crazy. hell, even call me a monster.
*but whatever you want to call me, mr. moran, that doesn't stop what happened next.
*i felt like i was flinchin', like i was usin' my reflexes, but i reached out my left hand, got that fucking picture, an' ripped it in two.
*the f girls stopped laughin'.
*so i ripped it in four.
*i could hear one of 'em start makin' a muffled "oh, my god".
*so i ripped it in eight.
*i could hear one of 'em make a weird gasping-hiccuping sound, an' i knew they were the ones startin' the waterworks now
*so i dropped every piece of the ground, grabbed our things, an' walked out of the pool for what god knows was the last time..
*so i guess i don't need to say that the drive home was more than a little awkward.
*more like everyone in the minivan was completely silent. the only thing that was makin' noise, really, was frisk's lil foot tappin' against the ground, one peep from em 'bout how they were late for remediation before they went silent.
*but i could see dad's hands were shakin' a little on the wheel, so i started talkin'.
*me. "i-"
*dad. "I'm so sorry, son."
*shit. i dropped down my head a bit closer to my left arm. he'd seen. of course he had. even if he wasn't parked facing towards the pool, he'd had to wonder why his son was takin' so long.
*me. "yeah. you don't have anythin' to say sorry about. it was my problem. so i just had to fix it. that's all."
*dad just kinda sat there. clutched the wheel just a tad harder. "No. No, son. It was horrible, that's it. And I… I know… I should've…"
* "like i said, it was my problem."
*paps made a lil' gasp. thought he would cry, but he didn't. but what i woulda given to give 'i'm the hug only big brothers can give. an' my brain went all the way back, all the way back to the kids callin' the flood all those names, to the moms tellin' their kids not to play with us, to the posters on the walls. of course i knew. how could i not? nothin' would ever be the same.
*an y'know what? nothin' really ever was.
*few days before i wrote this, we were all outside. puttin’ up some halloween decorations. spider webs on the windows, lights just about everywhere, an’ why not, even some skulls in the front yard. woulda had frisk help us, but they just wanted to play with the neighbor’s dog. heh. don’t blame ‘em.
*thirty minutes. thirty minutes we were out there, an’ a truck came by. stopped at our house.
*for a second, i thought he was gonna look at our halloween decorations.
*now, i dunno if i can keep quiet from laughin’ at that.
*but as i was puttin’ up the last of the skulls, i heard the door slam, an’ i looked back, an’ there was a man in a black outfit, an’ as soon as i saw the “HSO” letters on it, i started to want to run, an’ at the same time my dad asked what was goin’ on, i saw one of them carryin’ frisk up the hill towards the van. now i started gettin’ up. god, i wanted to get up. heart was poundin’, eye was flarin’.
* “frisk!”
*but i couldn’t say it, because i couldn’t teleport, i couldn’t move, i couldn’t glow. instead, i started goin’ under the mercy of involuntary muscle contractions that went across my entire body.
*they’d shot me. an’ whatever type of electricity they shot me with, it made me kinda slump to the ground, even though every neuron in my brain told me to GET UP, GET UP NOW.
*dad screamin’ at paps to get inside, paps just screamin’, the van door slammin’ again. an’ then nothin’ except ringin’. an’ then i started gettin’ real heavy, like paps was jumpin’ on me, trying to wake us up when we were kids. an’ with everythin’ tellin’ me to GET UP NOW, NOW, NOW, THEY’RE TAKING FRISK, GET UP, i only got heavier.
*i just remember thinkin’ one thing.
*what’d they do to me…
*what’d they do to me…
*what’d they do to me…

Mr. Moran
Honors English 11-3
25 September 2015
Note: This has been extended due to recent events.
From then until 1201 A.D., the humans were almost entirely devout Catholics, except for the area in the Western Hemisphere. Against their will and against their native instincts, they started to learn Latin as a second language and the basest monster runes as a third language. Meanwhile, the humans grew in superiority. The humans, who had planned their retaliation since the first day the humans came down, have now mastered their fighting techniques. To prevent monsters from taking over the entire world, they started what would be known as the “Ripple Revolutions”, one of the greatest achievements man has thus far attained, across the entire world as a “ripple” leading to the east.
Their sheer numbers and their technology with groundbreaking inventions such as catapults, ballistas, and gunpowder made them superior with the monsters, a fact which stays with them for all eternity. In addition, the monsters, who had again been using Catholicism for religious purposes, had underused their magic, making them both incredibly dull and repulsive.
Owing to the tragic lack of sanitation and the sheer amount of people living in Europe, the monsters were simply plucked from this life in any way most convenient. By the end of 1500 A.D., all of the monster threats were eliminated from the humans, and the monster empire dissolved. The Pope and the humans seized power for a brief time, but the Reformation, another one of humanity’s triumphs, soon curtailed that power.
With all of these factors, most of the monsters were mercifully plucked from the Eastern world, for fear that they would conquer it again. Those monsters who still crept in the West knew of the atrocity they would be accused of later, and the humans labored tirelessly to find a way to rid the West of them while covering it up as much as possible, akin to exterminating insects found in one’s home and then sweeping what was left of them out of the carpet.
Finally, they found a way. In the western hemisphere, miners who worked in mountains that were in fact active volcanoes discovered that the lava would open small holes inside the mountain. Those unfortunate workers who fell down the mountains didn’t come up again alive. This was because of either the long fall or the gas poisoning and soot that resulted in being buried so deep inside one of these gentle giants. The idea spread with an unprecedented pace. Without warning, most of the monsters were gathered together, like a bundle of tinder for a miraculous fire, and were escorted down the Appalachians, Rockies, and Andes.
However, in the Appalachians near Massachusetts, there was one snakish monster scientist, called an alchemist in this era, who caught word of the humans’ plan months before its execution. After years of biding his time, this alchemist discovered that if one drilled far enough into the earth in an area this far north, they would experience permafrost, which the alchemist described as “the devil’s bane” because of its coldness and how far down it was. The alchemist made a plan that once they were escorted down the mountain, him and the rest of the monster rabble would excavate until they found the mountain’s core and the permafrost, and then they would send chunks of permafrost to the mountain’s core in order to prevent it from erupting. It worked, and while the rest of the monsters in the Western Hemisphere became extinct, like the dinosaurs of old that stalked the Earth, the monsters in the mountain with permafrost wriggled and writhed their way into life like the snakes of now so often do.
This single group of monsters that survived is called “The Springfield Exodus”, and it is located in what is now Springfield, Massachusetts. This is the group that you see each and every day. This is the group that plans to breed over us, to take over what we have so peacefully established. This is the group that seeks to take away all of our triumphs.
These are the seeds that we must pluck if we are to yield a harvest of peace.

Chapter Text

Mr. Moran
Honors English 11-4
September 23, 2015
*i just remember feelin' sick.
*i remember starin' at the green lil' curtains in front of my face, an' for a full half a minute, in started to wonder how the heck i got here.
*an' when i heard the school bus go its lil' merry way down the street, i shot up my head. but that didn't stop it from poundin', an' outta nowhere, i started to get this feelin', this sinkin' feelin' that i was never gonna be able to lift things up without touchin' 'em again. i felt like i just lost this whole chunk of me.
*which was ridiculous. which was stupid. the whole thing is just a huge load of stupid.
*an' i started to feel even more stupid, if you can believe that. 'cuz i realized that the green things hadn't been some weird shower curtains they'd put in the background. they were grass. an' the bus that passed right by wasn't the school bus. it was the same van that'd came by-
*a van had come by. all of the memories just started...hittin' me. one by one. pieces of it. a van had come by, an' frisk was swooped up. oh, dear jesus, frisk was gone. an' i hafta try….an' i tried to get 'em, an' one of the hso cronies in the van pointed a gun or somethin' at me, tilted it a bit to the side, an'-
*an' i realized i'd been shot.
*i'd been shot. i kinda felt like there was an avalanche that was pourin' down all over me, here an' there, an' i coulda sworn i was in a tunnel vision that hurt my head for at least a few seconds. so i just sat there for what i think was a full minute this time, an' i just held my head in my hands to keep it from blowin' up.
*i just kept on throbbin' like that until the throbbin' got worse an' worse, an' i heard the last lil' noises of the van blowin' by before i noticed just how great grass feels as a pillow, an' i fell asleep, but it wasn't a good sort of sleep, it was a sleep i thought i needed because i felt sick. an' there i went.
*when i opened my eyes an' made sure i wasn't still dreamin', i took a look around. an’ y’know what, the thoughts started gettin’ into me easier this time. paps was… just sittin’ there, fiddlin’ around with that rubik’s cube in his hands. dad’s head must have been throbbin’, too, ‘cuz he had it in his own hands.
*i tried to talk a bit, but my throat was sore, so i tried again. still nothin’. a third time, somethin’ came out. “hey, dad. today’s been a great day, hasn’t it?”
*somethin’ came out of dad, too, but it was much easier this time. “Not now, son, today’s been a long day, and there’s so many people that I have to call, and… are you alright? How are you feeling?”
*so i smile a little, an’ paps stops fiddlin’ around with his rubik’s cube an’ smiles right back. i love ‘im. i always will. always will.
*”feelin’ okay. not like i can… do what i usually do, if you know what i mean…”
*”So if I asked you to grab me a drink without you getting off the couch, you wouldn’t be able to do it, right?
*so i sit up, rub my head just a little, an’ there’s a little stirrin’ that tells me that my system will be ready to lift out my hand an’ lift things up soon. sometime soon. soon, i’ll go over, i think. soon, i’ll get ‘em, i think.
*stupid. stupid. god, i’m stupid.
*frisk is still gone.
*”so, i’m just gonna cut to the chase here. what happened? do you know anythin’ about what hit me?”
*dad swung back in his office chair, just barely managin’ to stop himself from topplin’ over on the floor. “About as much as you do, although I’ll have to monitor you in the future both for your good and everyone else’s. From what I’ve already gotten, whatever was in that gun, it seemed to take away whatever telekinetic abilities you may have had before. I’ll check in a few hours to see if you have any back, and tell me if any other symptoms arise.”
*god, my dad’s so smart.
*but he can also be a tad… off.
*as he swung his office chair back to the place he was workin’ at, i heard ‘im mutter somethin’ along the lines of “And if that wasn’t bad enough, there’s a-”, an’ either he stops or he gets too quiet for me to hear, or maybe even a bit of both. since i’m me, i don’t hesitate askin’ him what it is, but i don’t quite get out of the couch just yet. an’ still, one part of me always wants to stay there.
*”And if that wasn’t bad enough, we’ll have to get another paint job on the house.”
*i tried to ask ‘im what the heck he was talkin’ about, but he just switched back to his paperwork. tried to stop his demons, more like. everyone has those, especially the HSO. so i asked paps what happened. when he didn’t respond, i called his name again, an’ when he looked up, i asked him if the house needed to be painted, an’ he just looked at me with that scared-deer look of his, an’ nodded, an’ then i started gettin’ all antsy, an’ then i walked outside a lil’ too fast, an’ i had to put my hand up against the wall.
*guess i put my hand in the wrong place.
*i started spasmin’, spasmin’ like crazy, an’ it wasn’t long before i started fallin’ on the floor. an’ i started to regret it, ‘cuz i started realizin’ that whatever was on the wall felt the exact same as bein’ hit by the gun. so whatever the hso used, they sure loved to use it everywhere. an’ when i came to after a half a minute, it took me a few seconds of blinkin’, blinkin’ over an’ over again, before i started realizin’ that it was a shape.
*at first, i thought it was just a coincidence. i mean, how could the design that was sprayed on my locker show up again? it didn’t make any sense at all. i blinked. the fifth and sixth time, i realized it was denial. nothin’ less. nothin’ more. pure an’ utter denial.
*the m was red, just like the one on the locker, just like the other red letter m’s i’ve seen before. an' i had to step back, 'cuz even though i knew what it was, even though i knew everythin' that it was supposed to be, there was still some part of me that couldn't understand it. that didn't really want to understand it, to be frank about it.
*so you can kinda understand just how grateful i was when i heard a noise.
*but when i looked to the right to see where it came from, i knew it wasn't a pleasant one. an' when i saw what it was, everythin' inside it seemed to drop like a kid goin' down the steepest waterslide in the whole damn park.
*it was my neighbor, an' he was cryin'. i knew that 'cuz of the noise. but it was horrible, more like an in between scream-cry.
*an' i would've started to copy 'im if it weren't for the fact that he buried his head in his arms an' started to put his head in between 'em, an' before i could stop myself, i shortcutted halfway there, only halfway, before i had to run.
*his family was runnin' out towards 'im, so i had to push at 'im a little.
*me. "mr. maetaerae, mr. maetaerae, are you alright? did you get hit?!”
*him. “Hit? Hit by what?”
*i just remember a wave goin’ over me. i think it was relief, but i’m closer to thinkin’ it was someone else. was it dread? i dunno. i’m just a slightly overweight, extremely short springfield monster who’s tryin’ to live in this world, and just maybe bring a few smiles to people along the way. maybe.
*me. “nothin’, nothin.”
*then he told his family to move, because he coulda sworn he saw somethin’, an’ then i started to think that it was dread instead of relief. an’ he just dropped his head an’ sighed a lil’, sayin’ he wasn’t the only house that had it.
*”what do you mean, you’re not the only house? is it just mine or-”
*he only pointed to the right.
*there was mrs. reicae, who used to own the library in the underground. her house was all ruined by that red. she’d painted her house with her kids just a few months ago. all of that. all of that.
*an’ then her neighbor, with that same letter m.
*an’ then her neighbor.
*an’ then her neighbor.
*an’ then her neighor.
*an’ then i had to look on the road for cars, ‘cuz i had to walk on it, an’ boy, it looked like i was spinnin’, an’ spinnin’ slow, ‘cuz i had to look at one house to see the letter m an’ whip around to see the other one, an’ then look around to see the other one. i counted five, ten, fifteen. fifteen, an’ god knows what was in the other direction.
*they’d marked the whole neighborhood.
*i stood in the street, askin’ myself that one question. an’ the more i started lookin’ at all of the houses, the more i kept on askin’ myself that.
*an’ there’s one part of me that’ll never stop askin’ myself that.
*”Son, there’s nothing we can do.”
*that was the cheery sentence i heard when i walked in the door. at first, i was just goin’ to get myself somethin’ strong, somethin’ like soda to eat away at me a lil’, an’ dismiss it with a “no shit” but as i remembered paps was there an’ i couldn’t say it, i realized that i needed an explanation. how could there be “nothing we can do”? the entire freakin’ neighborhood was on their front lawns at this point. i figured at least that we could call the hso, or call someone we knew.
*but he just looked at me with that look on this face.
*”Son, the phone lines have been cut off. There’s been a census change, they say.”
*an’ i spent that night in the livin’ room, sittin’ right next to papyrus. we watched movie after movie, an’ when dinnertime came around, it was somethin’ like this.
*”hey, paps. dinnertime’s comin’ up. wanna start makin’ dinner?”
*”heh. figured you wouldn’t want to. an’ i get it. i totally get it.”
*an’ dad didn’t complain when he made dinner, didn’t complain when none of us took a shower, when both of us started to play with the rubik’s cube at the same time.
*an’ nobody even complained when i fell asleep on the couch, an’ my side must’ve been crushin’ paps’ lap, an’ i could’ve sworn i felt paps’ hand in mine just before i fell asleep.

Chapter Text

Mr. Moran
Honors English 11-4
September 24,2015
*oh… oh god….
*why can’t i…
*i can’t…
*i don't….
*i don't understand it…
* i can't...
*my hand is shakin'.
*school started. an' we went to school this mornin'. an' we thought everythin' was gonna be alright. god, we thought everythin' was gonna be alright.
*an' anna came. she said hello, an' how was the dvd i saw with paps at home,., an’ the door opened, an’ we were warm. we were warm.
*an’ the teacher came in, an’ that was when i noticed the cars drivin’ in. teacher said they were comin’ for a track meet. a track meet, an’ it was gonna rain later. both anna an’ i joked about how dumb he was an’ how it was probably an indoor thing or somethin’. an’ the both of us were laughin’, laughin’.
*an’ class started.
*an’ the teaacher got quiet.
*he said it was a drill.
*he said it was a drill.
*he said it was a drill.
*an’ the both of us went outside, an’ all the other students were gathered, an’ all the flood kids went behind the trailers an’ everyone else went to god knows where.
*that’s when we noticed how many were surroundin’ us.
*that’s when we noticed that the cars that had driven in were empty.
*that’s when we noticed the teachers had come out.
*all of them.
*that was when we noticed the guns.
*i went towards the center. put my head, hands in my hoodie.
*started breathin’ so fast i thought i’d die right there.
*what came out of ‘em, what came out of all of the guns, made it so there was no blood. just screamin’. it was gas, it was liquid. an’ it was the same i had been shot with before, but it was worse this time, because they started spasmin’, spasmin’ horribly, then coughin’.
*an’ i came out.
*mr. moran.
*you were there.
*an’ you had missed.
*but to do that, you…
*you had to hit someone else.
*but the kid that normally holds the door open to me was spread out across the ground, grabbed my foot, told me he couldn’t breathe.
*then he turned to dust.
*they all died. every single one of ‘em.
*every one except for me an’ anna an’ nacarat an’ a few other kids an’...
*there were hundreds...
*every one…
*i can’t
*i ran. i didn’t even bring anna with me, i ran to the middle school. i couldn’t teleport, ‘cuz the gun… the poison had…
*would i die?
*would i die? i kept runnin’.
*an’ paps was right there, right in the school lawn.
*same gun the teachers had.
*same kids.
*same question. what’s goin’ on? what drill is this? are we goin’ to learn how to fire a gun?
*an’ paps..
*paps was right there.
*an’ i managed to sneak in there, ‘cuz i’m small. an’ paps hugged me, an’ i told ‘im to keep it down. *i triedd to run with 'im. god, i tried. *too many people. *too many people that were gonna die.
*an’ paps started joltin’ when he touched me.
*an’ paps asked me one question.
*an’ the guns went off.
*an’ i shielded ‘im.
*i jumped. i would save ‘im.
*i was flyin’. my hoodie would take all of the poison. my body would. an’ i might die. i might’ve died anyway. i don’t know. but i was goin’ to take in all of the poison, an’ i shut my eyes.
*i shut my eyes.
*god, i shut my eyes.
*an’ when i opened ‘em again, paps was twitchin’, an’ foamin’, an’ gaspin’, an’ i knew.
*i would scream later.
*i would cry later.
*but now, the guns had walked away. they’d done what they had to.
*an’ now, paps was cryin’.
*he couldn’t make any sound, ‘cuz his throat had swollen so much that there wasn’t any air comin’ out.
*but i could see his eyes makin’ their own voice.
*an’ i approached ‘im.
*would i die?
*i wanted to then.
*an’ i took ‘im, an’ i hugged ‘im, an’ i hugged ‘im tighter. an’ i moved my head to make sure i was right inside his eyes.
*an’ i told ‘im it’d be alright.
*i told ‘im, i told my baby brother the most gorgeous lie i ever coulda told.
*an’ when i squeezed his hand until i felt it crumble to dust, when he stopped keepin’ me up an’ i started slumpin’ completely…
*that is when i started to scream.
*an’ i wailed
*an’ i screamed
*an’ i wailed
*an’ there was nothin’ in the world that would take me from that lil pile of dust.

Chapter Text

Mr. Moran
Honors English 11-4
September 24,2015
*it was then i heard the drums.
*the drums playin’ for my lil’ brother. gone. gone. everything gone.
*everythin’ i had to live through again.
*gone. gone.
*i knew it was the marching band, or at least a ragtag one that the hso had implemented to go behind them. to play when they fired their guns each way they felt, on any monster that happened to be there.
*even music was gone.
*everyone else was gone. they hadn’t seen any reason to stick with someone who was already gone. but here i was.
*here i was. an’ still the drums kept beatin’.
*here i was. an’ the dust was like sand runnin’ through me.
*here i was.
*an’ i screamed.
*i screamed, an’ my throat hurt like there was an animal runnin’ its way up, an’ i was an animal, an’ everyone else was an animal, an’ there was no one to hear. no one on my front, no one behing me, no one to my left, no one to my right. no god in the sky, an’ no hellhole below. an’ i knew it wasn’t down there ‘cuz…
*’cuz it’d been brought up here.
*two hundred an’ forty nine times.
*that was the amount of genocide routes the kid made.
*an’ only in this one did my brother truly die.
*an’ i screamed, but it turned into more of a howl, an’ i didn’t let go of the dust, i didn’t let go of the dust, i didn’t let go of the dust, an’ it went down into my chest an’ ripped into it an’ the blood froze up an’ turned into tears.
*an’ i rocked back an’ forth. i rocked my baby brother to sleep.
*i was nothing more than the monster everyone else thought i was.
*an’ for now… i was alright with that.
*i rocked my baby brother to sleep.
*the tears seemed to turned the dust into saltwater.
*two hundred an’ forty nine times.
*i stood up. how could i stand up? how could i ever deserve to stand up?
*an’ my legs shook.
*two hundred an’ forty nine times.
*focus. one step. two steps. i clutched the scarf. the grass turned wet, but there wasn’t any sky above it. i hafta get to dad. hafta tell ‘i'm what happened. focus.
*how the HELL am i supposed to focus?
*how do i live…
*how do i live…
*how am i supposed to...
*two hundred an’ forty nine times.
*i still hear it.
*the grass rips through my foot, but i still hear it.
*i feel like i’m being struck by lightnin’, slowly, an’ there’s one part of me that won’t stop waterin’ the grass.
*but i still hear it.
*an’ i fall, ‘cuz i feel like i’m bein’ struck by lightnin’ even more, an’ it presses on me ‘till i fall. an’ when my eyes go to the foam stretchin’ towards the grass, i close ‘em again.
*’cuz i want to see ‘im again.
*an’ i fall asleep.
*an’ i hope i fall for longer.
“With the battering of our drums,
with the beating of our hearts,
we will save the race that once was was lost,
save what has been tempest-tossed.

For the glory, for the glory, oh,
the glory of our patria,
for the glory, for the glory, oh,
the glory of our home we roam.”
*i don’t know how long i spent looking for ‘im.
*the one who fired the gun on paps. after the first step, i took a second one, then a third, then a fourth, an’ then a thirtieth, except i didn’t teleport. i was there. it was just that my brain was somewhere else, while everyone else was right here.
*i didn’t even know if he was a he or not. but i remember walkin’, walkin’, walkin’ through the grass in the school yard, lookin’ for anyone with a uniform, anyone who might have the arm strength to fire a gun, anyone who came from the school who seemed like they were scared by me.
*i looked for centuries on the school yard. no one was there.
*i looked for two in the cafeteria, in the gym, in the hallway.
*god, i still smelled the pizza they were baking this afternoon… right down to the burns…
*my brother ate in that cafeteria. my brother’s friends were there, an’ they were playin’, an’ they were laughin’.
*in the gym.
*my brother played basketball there. heh, he may have even gone pro. he was tough enough to do that.
*in the hallway.
*he’d walked here. he’d laughed here. he’d lived his life here. an’ he was a ghost here.
*an’ i couldn’t find anyone. no one but a few kids hidin’ here an’ there in the closet’s wood shop, an’ i stretched out my hand a lil’ an’ used my eye to take all the saws out so they could get out safely, an’ i didn’t know them, but they were monsters an’ they were alive, so i hugged them an’ they hugged me. they were younger, taller, more scared than i was.
*an’ when i remembered the first time chara had gone down the mountain, the first time they had destroyed everythin’ i loved an’ everythin’ i was, the first time i found my- my baby brother’s scarf on the snow…
*i hugged ‘em tighter.
*an’ when i started mumblin’ about my brother, an’ how i coulda saved ‘im, how i coulda saved ‘i'm, how i coulda saved ‘im, they started crying, yeah, an’ they started huggin’ me even tighter, yeah, but one of them muttered somethin’ back.
*was that the name of their brother? did they lose someone? i shook my head, lettin’ everythin’ around me tick by, lettin’ the sun go by, lettin’ a few strands of “Glory, glory to our homeland” go through the wind.
*”who…. who’s gallsop, kiddo?”
*he stopped cryin’ for a second, cleared his throat so he could finally make all of those sounds the humans had kept all of us from makin’.
*”Gallsop, New York. That’s where he’s at.”
*new york. the people were more tolerant there. they’d be safe. no, we’d be safe. new york. new york.
*as my eye lit up, my bones knew which way to head.
*the tears watered the grass.

Chapter Text

(Note: Write 1,000 words today.)
Mr. Moran
Honors English 11-3
24 September 2015
*i think there’ll be a part of me that’ll never stop cryin’. no way around it. an’ i’ll just let it all flow till they stop treatin’ us like the shit i think i already am. an’ i think my heart will stop an’ i’ll stop makin’ tears an’ i won’t be able to cry long before that’ll happen.
*even now, i…
*i don’t want to depress anyone.
*but i wanna do somethin’ here. i wanna tell what happened, even if it’ll just be one other person, hell, even one other monster, that reads this journal. an’ even if nobody ever does, i just wanna know that i actually did this. that i cleared my conscience, y’know? i wanna be honest. an’ now.. i think it’s best if i just say whatever’s comin’ to my mind. whatever’s comin’ to my heart.
*an’ that’s the truth.
*an’ that’s alright.
*most of the time, when i shortcut, there’s some prerequisites. first, i have to see a picture of it so i can visualize an’ stuff. an’ then after that, i have to make sure no one’s comin’ with me, or i’m not carryin’ too much stuff in my backpack, ‘cuz otherwise, it’ll be too far an’ i’ll have to shortcut somewhere a bit closer. an’ then, if i go far enough, i have to make sure i can get some milk or cheese or somethin’, ‘cuz i don’t wanna pass out from all that calcium leavin’ my system, just like that.
*but i don’t think any of that applies right now. an’ to be frank… i don’t think anythin’ i thought was right applies right now.
*my brother’s supposed to be here. we’re supposed to be discussin’ where we’re gonna go, an’ what paps is gonna do, an’ how we’re gonna tell dad that we’re goin’ there. but that’s not happenin’.
*i’m supposed to be in school right now, sleepin’, with anna pokin’ her pencil at my skull, over an’ over an over again, plunkplunkplunkplunkplunk, an’ i don’t tell her the noise actually helps me fall asleep. i’m supposed to be considerin’ what college i’m gonna go to. but that’s not happenin’.
*i’m supposed to be thankin’ frisk for destroyin’ the button, not…
*...actually wantin’ to go over to wherever the fuck those assholes snatched ‘em to an’ askin’ ‘em if we can go back.
*but that’s not happenin’.
*so instead, i mosey on over to the cafeteria. sit down a bit. the kids from the wood shop are just sittin’ there. some of ‘em are starin’ right at me, but others are talkin’, an’ cryin’, an’ lettin’ each other cry. i think it’s beautiful when that happens.
*so i think of the most beautiful thing i can think of. an’ the most beautiful thing i can think of is a place where no people are around. no people. no people at all. just a place where you can’t see anyone with that uniform for miles an’ miles.
*i shake.
*everythin’ that’s a part of me shakes.
*an’ the kids that are behind me start to get quieter an’ quieter, an’ my eyes keep on closin’, an’ i just let what lets me shortcut in the first place ripple through me. an’ it goes through all the way, an’ i’m tired all of a sudden, an’ i sit down, an’ i hafta open my eyes.
*an’ i’m at a barn.
*a barn.
*the first thing i think of doin’ is stayin’ low to the ground. heh, not that hard for a guy like me. but i stay low to the ground, look for an entrance. when i find one, it’s locked. so i take a quick shortcut inside, try to shortcut my way to the corner. an’ when i look around, look around, look around, wait for my breath to slow down a bit, i notice there’s nobody there. not even any animals. just the smell of hay. really, really old hay.
*an’ then i start to get a nice feelin’ out of all this.
*more than nice. relieved, i guess. but i’ve gotta stay on my guard, so i walk as quietly as my sneakers will let me before i go towards the door, an’ like i suspected, it ain’t locked. if you’re gonna let a buildin’ be all by its lonesome, it makes sense to get everythin’ else out first, i guess. an’ then what would you need a lock for?
*still doesn’t stop me from coughin’ as i open the door.
*an’ as i mosey my way to the house that’s near the barn, i think about everyone that isn’t moseyin’ right along with me, that’s either dyin’ or tryin’ not to die, an’ then i think why do we have to die, what did we do wrong, but i realize that’s a stupid question i’ve been asking for a time that’s way longer than i remember, an’ then i’m at the house entrance.
*this time, there is a lock. maybe someone got kicked out.
*so i realize, even without shortcuttin’, that there’s no milk in there. no food. an’ whatever first aid supplies we can get, we have to get them ourselves.
*so i decide to just give up an’ walk to town, to see if i even ended up in the right place.
*an’ when i got cornered by a human there an’ she didn’t attack me like i thought she would, i knew i’d at least got myself to a right place. so i asked if this was new york, an’ she said of course an’ where was i from an’ where are your parents (being short has its cons, not going to lie here). i said i didn’t feel like sharin’, an’ yeah, of course i had parents, an’ i started to get a shudder ‘cuz i thought what if dad was dead an’ i really had no one an’ what’s the point of bein’ here anyway, an’ i asked if this was gallsop. when the lady said yeah, i got outta there as fast as i could.
*so i shortcutted back to the school. an’ the kids were back. an’ i had to sit down ‘cuz i didn’t feel so swell.
*the kid on the left with a yellow scarf on his neck talked first. not quite red like the on i had on, but close enough i had to look at the floor a bit. ”Where have you been? Where were you? Where did you go?”
*me. “wait, wait! did anythin’ happen here?”
*the kid on the right who managed to keep one of her pins from her backpack. ”No, we were just bored.”
*me. “thank god. anyways, i need some milk.”
*everyone giggled.
*me. “no, seriously. i need some milk.”
*so i sat on one of the chair an’ leaned forward because i really didn’t feel swell at that point, an’ the kid with the yellow scarf got the hint an’ went to the cafeteria doors to get somethin’ to drink. an’ when i finished an’ i felt halfway alright, i asked the kiddos if they wanted to go to the barn an’ they started saying, “Yes! Yes! Yes!” so loud i knew it wasn’t even a question anymore.
*so i swallowed the fact that i was gonna feel horrible for the longest time now an’ shortcutted over to the barn. i let it ripple through me, but it felt a bit worse an’ i had to sit down on the grass an’ just stare, just stare at the town while the other lil’ kids explored the barn on their own.
*an’ at that point, i just… kinda knew what to do.
*at first, i went to the school. went beyond the wood shop. went into the bathrooms, went into the trailers in the back, went into some of the places i didn’t think about before. when i was finished, i had about six kids in the cafeteria, includin’ four who’d tried to gather themselves up in the library. whoops.
*anyway, we told stories a bit, laughed, cried. somewhere in there, i told ‘em ‘bout gallsop, an’ i let the two kids who weren’t in the library go so they could tell everyone else, even though i still can’t fall asleep ‘cuz i know i sent two kiddos out there on their own. even though i know they were fine. i still can’t fall asleep.
*an’ we shortcutted there, an’ the kids were probably a heck of a lot more resourceful than i am. the two kids from the woodshop had cleaned off the hay an’ had somehow gotten a makeshift bed started. i asked the kid with the charm on her backpack how, but she just got embarrassed an’ kept on makin’ the bed.
*an’ i shorcutted back, an’ i went back to the school entrance. i thought i was alright. had to lean against the door for a second, an’ it was almost like everythin’ in my stomach just wanted to jump out, but i swallowed it ‘cuz i knew i wasn’t ever gonna let it out if i was gonna do what i needed to do, an’ it went back down an’ i listened for the drums an’ the guns, but i could only hear the guns an’ they were quiet, so i went back on out.
*i didn’t look at the back of the school. i didn’t look where paps was.
*i didn’t look at the back of the school. i didn’t look where paps was.
*an’ i didn’t go to some of the suburbs, an’ i didn’t go home, ‘cuz i knew that dad wouldn’t be that jittery, so i went to the lab. there were too many people there, an’ the people there that i could see were changin’ up this an’ that, tryin’ to get some medicines. heh. you gather a bunch of smart people, a bunch of smart monsters, an’ ignorant people tend to be few and far between. but still, there were some that were makin’ protestin’ signs instead, mostly humans, an’ one of ‘em flipped me off when he saw me passin’ by, but that was a million, a million times better than what happened an hour ago.
*what was an hour?
*it was almost like nobody knew what it was, nobody. ‘cuz they were probably thinkin’ that a second was an hour the way they were workin’, an’ when one of the younger ones saw me, he asked me if i was alright an’ if i was experiencing this or that or this or that symptom. to be honest, i was experiencin’ almost all of ‘em, but i needed to see dad.
*but after lookin’ around an’ not findin’ ‘im, i looked around everywhere they could allow me to, at least. i didn’t see any reason why dad would go into any type of secret room, but when i bumped into the guy again an’ he’d got some sort of scrubs ready to do a formal exam on me, i announced that i’d found a barn that looked safe.
*what happened wasn’t somethin’ marvelous. it was just someone shushin’ me an’ sayin’ that there was a PA system in the office i could probably use. didn’t stop the person shushin’ me from comin’ with me.
*an’ i was a bit scared, ‘cuz last time i did any sort of messin’ with the PA systems, it was to tell all of the kids that they were gonna have “M” tags on themselves, an’ then i got even more scared ‘cuz most of the kids i told were dead.
*they were dead.
*they were dead, an’ we’re all gonna die somehow, an’ there’s more kids that are gonna die if i don’t say what i have to say.
*so i don’t say anythin’ when the lab person who shushed me asked why i sprinted there, an’ i went ahead an’ said my spiel, an’ i was still shakin’.
*i did one more look-see, an’ before i could look another time to see if dad was there, everyone was rushin’ towards me, almost jumpin’ on me, wantin’ me to take ‘em to this new lab. an’ i almost said no the way they were tryin’ to paw me, but when i knew again that there were more kids that were gonna die if i didn’t do this, i took one over.
*an’ when i had to take a break for awhile, the lab person asked what was wrong an’ if i’d seen any plants around here. i said no, but there was a hospital down in town, an’ i shortcutted back an’ took a few more back.
*an’ this time i started to feel extra woozy, an’ i knew too much calcium was leavin’ my system ‘cuz of the shortcuts, an’ i asked if they’d found any more milk or cheese or somethin’ (it was a barn, of course), but one of the lab techs i took there told me no and that they were gonna go grab some non perishables. so the thought of condensed milk kept me afloat for just a bit.
*an’ about five more shortcuts an’ the lab was empty, an’ i tried to look for dad. but the thing is, i felt so horrible that i tripped an’ fell on the floor over nothin’ when i went around the second time. so i thought, hey, might as well not waste time, ‘cuz i might faint before i do what i want to do, an’ i headed out into the monster settlements. no way was i goin’ to town. that’s where the marching band was comin’ from.
*an’ i found a house with milk in the fridge, an’ i downed it, an’ i don’t care if the power was off.
*an’ i heard the tv runnin’, so i made my way to the livin’ room to see if there was anyone there.
*an’ what i saw there…
*i can’t…
*can’t write it…
*dust was everywhere…
*gettin’ in my eyes…
*my nose…
*my mouth…
*they’d gotten ‘em all.
*right in the livin’ room.
*mr moran…
*do you know how much it took to keep myself from heavin’ up what was already in me?
*i did it.
*don't ask me how. think i ignored that horrible feelin' 'bout ten people in, an' when i wanted to give up, i thought about that family. dammit, i thought about my family.
*but thirty four people are here now.
*four of 'em gettin' supplies. ten are tryin' to do somethin' with what they already have. an' the rest of 'em talkin' with ine of the humies at the airport. flight badge an' everythin'. somethin' 'bout smugglin' the monsters bsck home on an airplane an' get 'em.the heck outta there.
*thirty four. out of a thousand.
*a thousand…
*an' i sat down.
*a thousand.
*an' i started crampin', even with the condensed milk they'd brought, an' i thought restin' myself would be the best thing to do. but it got worse if anythin', not better.
*an' it took me a bit to realize it, but i finally found out the cramps were spasms. but by the time i cracked the code, i was already spread out on the ground.
*an’ i was hurtin’, i was hurtin’ bad, an’ i could see a few people fall over in the circle.
*was it the poison?
*was it killin’ us, even if it took this long?
*could we do anythin’ to stop it?
*funny thing is, i didn’t mind dyin’...
*i didn’t mind dyin’...
*i didn’t mind....
*baby bro, where are-

Chapter Text

Mr. Moran
Honors English 11-3
24 september 2015
*i burned.
*i burned.
*then i knew i had to be alive, ‘cuz i wasn’t with my bro. an’ there was no way that my bro could ever go to hell.
*i opened my eyes, an’ when i saw the wood hangin’ still over my head instead of flames goin’ all around me, givin’ me what i deserve in the first place. someone had put my jacket over me as a blanket, an’ they’d put some sort of hay formations in the corner as an infirmary or somethin’. there were a few other monsters that were out cold. saw ‘em fall earlier.
*judgin’ from where the sun was in the sky, i’d been out for at least an hour. so it was pretty impressive what they managed to do with the barn in the meantime. an’ the more i looked around, the more i started to get… hopeful? no, not yet. relieved. there was food piled up in one corner, water in the other, an’ there were people. people. there were more people.
*they had kids all rounded up, playin’ with some of the toys they’d brought, lookin’ for their parents. an’ the other adult monsters, if they weren’t lookin’ for their kids, they were bringin’ everythin’ they had or runnin’ to the town to set things up. it was a pretty sweet setup. not like any of the humies were goin’ to help us, but then again, it wasn’t like they’d helped us before.
*i could count about a hundred or so. so far, the plane had worked.
*but again, we were a thousand.
*so i asked a monster with red on his ears an’ scales on his hands who looked like he was in charge what we were doin’. an’ when he said he’d just found a payphone an’ messed with the lines so the humans couldn’t block us and was havin’ the others work for better signals, i didn’t even think about it. just rushed off.
*an’ there was a line for the payphone that stretched all the way to the hills, an’ i spent all of that time goin’ to a different place. i can’t tell you what that place looked like, but i can tell you that it felt like a blur. nothin’ pleasant, but still a place where i could get away from a world that was a hell of a lot more unpleasant. in that world, i could tell myself anythin’ an’ it would be true there. i could tell myself that my bro was gonna come back. i could tell myself that we were gonna be treated right. i could tell myself that… that maybe frisk could-
*one of the monsters with a shirt that was just a lil’ to red patted my shoulder. “Front of the line, kid.”
*i stared at it, an’ the first thing i did was to look back at the crowd an’ make sure that wherever they were, i faced the other way.
*’cuz whatever was comin’ next… it wasn’t gonna be pretty.
*i dialed the first number.
my mom was in the hospital bed, an’ my bro was in the tiniest of beds with a cotton-white, duck-patterned blanket on ‘im, an’ mom told me to go over and say hello….
*i dialed the second number. the third.
paps was cryin’ in the crib. two o’clock in the mornin’, an’ the neighbors were pumpin’ as much music as they wanted into the air, an’ i came in there, an’ i held ‘im, an’ i put on whatever classical music lil’ alph could find in the dump ‘till he stopped…
*i dialed the next three.
paps came home one day from school with lil’ fractures all over ‘im, an’ i didn’t even ask ‘im anythin’ ‘xcept what the people who’d done this to ‘im looked like, an’ when i found ‘i'm i felt my eye burnin’ and burnin’ an’ my hand moved up an’ down’ an’ left an’ right an’ everywhere an’ everywhere an’ they were askin’ me to stop
*i dialed the last four. sighed.
an’ i didn’t, an’ i wasn’t even sorry, an’ i loved it, an’ i loved it, an’ i loved it…
*it must ‘ve taken a few minutes, tops, but, hell, it felt like fifteen minutes. an’ i was fine with it takin’ fifteen minutes. ‘cuz it was fifteen minutes i didn’t have to tell ‘im…
*”dad, it’s me.”
*an’ i didn’t hear anythin’, but i heard somethin’ quiet, almost so quiet the wind blocked it out, but i knew what it was. ‘cuz it was a mix of gaspin’ an’ hiccupin’ an’ laughin’, an’ i knew he was cryin’, but in a happy kinda way, an’ the air kinda hurt as it went out of me for a bit.
*”Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
*a lil’ bit of a silence. i turned back, an’ everyone else stared right through me, but it wasn’t judgemental. heh. unlike me. so i kept on goin’.
*”yeah. an’ i’m in gallsop, an’-”
*”I know. I know. I heard. One of my colleagues back at the lab told me about that.”
*thank god. the air stopped hurting, but this time i started gettin’ chills from it like you wouldn’t believe. an’-
*”Where’s Papyrus?”
*an’ the air stopped, an’ i had to sit down, an’ i couldn’t say anythin’, and the noises, the horrible noises, came out of my throat with the tears, an’ they ripped out, an’ then the people in the line started to look down on the floor, an’ i didn’t care.
*an’ even when the call finished, i had to stay near that payphone, sittin’ in the grass, starin’ at it, knowin’ that whatever dust my brother had, it was in the ground, growin’ the grass, an’ he was there.
*so why?
*why did it feel like he was anywhere but here?

Chapter Text

mr. moran
honors english 11-3
24 september 2015
*the only thing that kept me from stayin’ there forever was my weakness, above all things. an’ i looked at the sun an’ realized i could barely see it over the horizon, no mountains there, an’ i realized i hadn’t had anythin’ to eat xcept for a bowl of cereal that mornin’. so i went to the barn, but all they’d managed to gather was a few biscuits, but that was enough. i did volunteer to go an’ try an’ find some food, or at least think about it, but some of the other monsters had started to hunt already.
*but when i went in there, i had to almost catch my breath just ‘cuz of the amount of monsters that were in there. the infirmary was full, but it was expandin’ fast. an’ the barn was gettin’ overcrowded, an’ some of the monsters were talkin’ ‘bout tryin’ to convince some of the humies to stay in some abandoned or foreclosed houses, though i wasn’t sure if that would work even here in new york.
*it took me about ten minutes to find the monster that was runnin’ everythin’, who told me he was makin’ some real tiny orange pennants to hang on people he’d decided to put in charge an’ that i wouldn’t have to bother ‘im anymore in about a half an hour. but when i asked ‘im just how many people were there, he told me three hundred.
*three hundred.
*there were a thousand of us.
*an’ then i started to feel real, REAL sick, ‘cuz i started wonderin’ if this was it, if this was all that was left of us. if the six hundred monsters that were back at town were all dead, or if we were still rescuin’ more. but i think the guy making the orange pennants must’ve thought that too, ‘cuz when i asked ‘im if they were rescuin’ other monsters, he told me he was too busy to talk an’ for me to go an’ greet some of the monsters who were comin’ in.
*at first, i bumped into anna, an’ we hugged for quite awhile, an’ she dug her hands into my hoodie, an’ i kinda slumped into her, an’ we both knew it wasn’t love, it was somethin’... somethin’ else, somethin’ weirder, somethin’ much better. an’ i let her cry. i let her tell me ‘bout how she passed out on the way out of the school while i’d ran off to the middle school an’ how she was almost choked to death by one of the humies if it weren’t for a small gang of monsters from the barn that’d managed to fight ‘im off.
*she told me so, so many other things.
*things i don’t even think i can write down here.
*an’ she told me that she’s given up.
*just that.
*i didn’t ask what she’s gave up on, or how long she’s been working on what she’s given up on, or who was involved in what she was givin’ up her. i just… knew everythin’ she was given up on, an’ i hugged her tighter, if that’s even possible.
*no one harassed us.
*no one called us lovebirds.
*no one told us to get out of the way.
*we didn’t say anythin’ else after that.
*we didn’t do anythin’.
*hell, i’m not even sure if we thought anythin’.
*an’ we just… were.

*couple of hours later, dr. gaster finally came. it wasn’t a surprise like anna was; i’d been makin’ my way to the payphone a few times. a group of kiddos that had settled here had actually been busy carvin’ up rocks that were shaped like coins, an’ one of the humies had been so nice as to pop open the place where it was supposed to collect all the coins. so all we had to do was get rocks from the bucket, make our call, collect the rocks from the bottom, an’ leave.
*we told each other everythin’ that had been on our minds. i wasn’t quite as profuse with him as i was with anna, but it was still enough to take up at least fifteen minutes each call.
*but what kept me on the line for most of the calls was the journey. dad said he'd be useless if he went on a plane to gallsop, an' besides, there were only two planes flyin' there every few hours anyway. so he decided to take an ambulance one of his coworkers' siblings had the hospital, an' took a band of his merry men an' started treatin' the monsters that needed first aid.
*so i asked 'im three questions.
*what should we do for poisoning from the guns the humans had?
*was undyne alive?
*an' did they find who killed paps yet?
*took a few short calls, but i got three answers.
*take the person to fresh air, have 'em wash themselves down and have 'em drink plenty of water, an' wait for dr. gaster's fancy-pants ambulance to come with his oxygen.
*undyne was dead. an' i bit my lip so i couldn't cry, but there was still a flood of memories i wouldn't trade for the world. but what really was the kicker was that if undyne was dead...then so was alphys. an' i knew right then an' there where she was...the highest skyscraper in the city. maybe i could-
*no, no, no, i had to think of anything but that. dad needed me, right?
*an’ we hadn’t found the person who killed paps.
*i could feel my bones screamin’, but i managed to just say, “that’s… we’ll keep lookin’, right?”
*”Yes. As soon as we get ourselves settled in and make sure everyone else is safe.”
*an’ my bones burned more, so i hung up.
*the next time i talked to dad was when he actually went in the barn. when we hugged, there was nothin’ left to say except that we loved each other, an’ dammit, that was enough. there was one time that i smelled his lab coat an’ realized it smelled like home, an’ it was then that i burst into tears for a few seconds. an’ i was nothin’ but a baby then, ‘cuz dad shushed me, put a hand to the back of my head, swayed us an’ rocked us back an’ forth, an’ we were both in this grief-filled dance.
*three hundred an’ thirty six.
*that was the final count of monsters that had made it.
*six hundred and sixty four monsters that had died.
*without a reason.
*without anythin’ they did wrong.
*they just… died.
*it was stupid. so stupid.
*an’ it tore me apart, an’ so i tore the straw on my bed apart, an’ it felt too tiny in my hands, like we were to the humans.
*when dr. gaster strode into the lil’ area they designated to the rest of us, i couldn’t fool around anymore. i’d settled myself in with anna an’ her mom, an’ nacarat said he’d come in sometime tonight after he was finished findin’ more food.
*an’ i kept on tearin’ up the hay, an’ anna stared at me for a lil’ while, but didn’t tell me to stop. she shuffled around on her lil’ patch of hay, tossin’ a doll up an’ down in her hands. i asked her where it came from, an’ she took a deep breath an’ said it was from a kindergartner from the elementary school she’d come to so she could see if she could rescue anyone there while the people that rescued her were gettin’ supplies. it’d come from a classroom where there was nothin’ but thirty-one lil’ piles of dust.
*an’ i tried to write my own jokes, ‘cuz it was the only thing left that i could think of doin’, but when i shared the first one an’ most people laughed, i still felt sick. sick.
*the night wasn’t that cold, so why was i shudderin’ like this?
*this is where i’ve been.
*it’s taken hours, but i’ve finally written this. all that's happened since this morning.
*all of this.
*everythin’ i’ve ever wanted to tell anyone about this, anythin’ that’s been runnin’ in my mind…
*it’s right here.
*right here.
*i’ve said what i have to say.
*i’ve said what everythin’ around me has made me say.
*an’ i’ve said everythin’
*an’ i wouldn’t trade this journal for anythin’ else.

*sans here again.
*it’s a bit late.
*but when i woke up a while ago in the middle of the night an’ nacarat went right next to me, i saw the purple book with more sticky notes in it. so i opened it. not like i had anythin’ better to do. had to light up my eye to see it, an’ so i lifted up my book so my eye would have a reason to do what he did.
*an’ what i read did not surprise me at all.
*lancer had been thrown off of the castle roof by his father.
*dead in a minute.

Chapter Text

mr. moran
honors english 12-3
25 september 2015

*y'know what i said about "i'll never trade this journal for anythin' else in the world" an' "i said everythin' i want to say in here?"
*come to think of it, i did say everythin' that i wanted to say in here. the ones that are left are in a safe, defensible area, we have enough food, our families are here, what have you. for all intents an' purposes…
*everythin' that's happened is over, i guess.
*which is why when i woke up an' the sun was hittin' right in my left eye in a way that made it real painful for at least a couple of hours, i asked dad an' anna's family an' nacarat if we could all go back to the sleepin' area after breakfast 'cuz dad told me he had an idea.
*an' idea to stop whoever was doin' it for good, or at least haltin' 'em from making any more advances up north.
*so after we finished an' i wiped a lil' forgotten cheerio from anna's face, we all gathered together, lookin' at gaster like he was some type of sergeant an' we were all privates, which i knew from when paps researched how to get into the army almost a year ago, an' i told 'i'm no, 'cuz he might die out there, an' i wanted 'im to be safe, an' i told 'i'm no, 'cuz he might die out there, an' i wanted 'im to be safe.
*his face tensed up like the stretched gym towels the kids in class loved to assault people with.
*"As you know, I have a proposition to ht any northern advances from whoever is causing all of this. We'll start off by sending a few monsters to contact a handful of public officials, although I'm not too sure of how effective that'll be. But I do know it'll be at least a little effective because my coworkers at the lab told me that they knew the leader, the 'mascot', if you will, of this entire organization."
*all of a sudden, gaster's eyes went a lil' bug-eyed, 'cuz all of our eyes were goin' right bug-eyed at 'im, an' the straw really didn't feel right under me. like it was gonna turn into jello right there. an' while my eye didn't start burnin' just yet, i could feel it gettin' close.
*'cuz i was angrier than anythin'.
*an' i started imaginin' a million pictures for who this could be. was it someone with blonde hair an' brown eyes? brown hair with green eyes? or were they blue like mine were?
*most importantly… how dirty was their uniform?
*dr. gaster started talkin', talkin' about strategies an' relative locations an' emergency meeting areas, an' who was best suited for which job, an' i didn't care, i wasn't there, an' my hands tore at the straw.
.*but what stopped me was one of the softest hugs i've had.
*an' i smelled the perfume, an' i knew it was anna's mom, and she hugged only a little tighter.
*an' i cried a little, 'cuz it reminded me of the day i went to the hospital as a kid, an' the doctor came out, startin' with "She was a healthy, relatively young woman, but unfortunately, monster bodies are not well-equipped to handle illnesses such as…"
*anna's mom swayed me back an' forth, ever so slowly. like i was a baby again.
*an' she didn't even know me.
*maybe we're less monstrous than i thought we were…
*stupid, stupid, stupid.
*i was so fucking stupid! "less monstrous than i thought we were?" what am i, insane? i'm buying into all of the bullshit that all of the humans have been feeding me for the past year! i was so… i was so fucking stupid, an'-
*"Sans? Are you alright?"
*an’ i had to nod, ‘cuz if i said no, that would lead to an entire catastrophe i didn’t want anyone gettin’ into. especially not when all of this was still way too fresh in our heads.
*”Well, you seem pretty distracted. I’ll repeat all of this information to you at the end.”
*no one laughed at me, but i still felt like i was a kicked soda can for a few seconds. but it wasn’t that huge, so i picked myself right back up an’ started actually payin’ attention. the sun was almost up.
*”After we all make it to the high school gym, we tell the teacher to notify the mascot of where we are. Now, I’ve heard from the same person who told me that they had a unified person to look up to that this person is combat-ready and almost always goes with them into combat in order to increase the soldiers’ morale. Now, most ‘mascots’ I’ve seen in history have stayed behind the scenes, or had been controlled by someone else in what was known as a puppet leadership. There was a low chance of them being combat-ready. This lead to a lack of association with the rest of the workers on that side- soldiers, even janitors, what have you- and having that mascot take on almost mythical qualities, causing the workers to aspire to serve the mascot as well as they could and helping them to fight harder for the dream. However, one can only fight for a dream for so long.”
*an’ he bit his lip, an’ i wonder what dream he’d lost. was it the same one i cried for a few minutes ago?
*”So this mascot fights with the soldiers, fights for the soldiers, and from what I’ve heard, fights better than most of the soldiers. Now, most of the soldiers are former civilians and have little to no training, but their numbers make it almost impossible to stage a rebellion against them.”
*Anna. ”Which is why we’re staging a rebellion against the mascot? With a few other soldiers, too.” heh, looks like she taught herself a thing or two.
*i was thiiiiiis close from sayin’ “i like that plan” right off of the bat. i mean, if we’re gonna kill the leader of this entire organization, what’s not to love about it? but then logic started kickin’ in. logic. for the first time in two days, logic started up.
*”wait. but how will we get them to meet in a specific place? an’ when? an’ who’s comin’ with us? i know i might’ve not been payin’ attention, so sorry about that. but is there anythin’ you can answer now?”
*”You’re right. I’ve relayed a few of these facts already, but.. I’ve been a little carried away. First off, I was thinking that- if it was possible- you could take us there.”
*he wasn’t mentionin’ anythin’, an’ i was alright with that ‘cuz i really didn’t wanna address it, but the way nacarat an’ anna were lookin’ at me, they all knew what it was.
*i ran a few very, very, very rough calculations in my head. “i think i can. but i’ll have to come back more than one time because of the extra weight.”
*through all of that, anna thought to punch me a lil’ playfully in the arm, an’ i remembered to laugh before rememberin’ that my brother wasn’t here an’ if we didn’t do somethin’ we were all gonna die an’ so many people were already dead, an’ i sorta slinked back to the middle of my haystack.
*”Alright. That’s good. That’s definitely good news. I was thinking in just a few hours so we can put a stop to this sooner, but-”
*i could see anna shufflin’ before she said her spiel. “I don’t think that’s a very good idea. Back… back…. back there, I… they.. they were active… most active a few hours ago. They still could be going strong. So maybe evening? They might have temporarily exhausted their efforts by then, although they could set up a small resistance if we’re careful and still… still kill us easily if we aren’t.”
*i nodded. “an’ if we go before night, we could use the sun to our advantage. fight a certain direction so the enemy gets blinded an’ not us. if we go durin’ the night, then we’ll just both get blinded.”
*gaster nodded, although i could see ‘im shrinkin’ back just a lil’ too.
*”an’ who’s comin’ with us?”
*he perked right back up. “Well, I was thinking that you and I could obviously go.”
*heh. even he knew.
*how couldn’t he?
*"Nacarat and Anna can come with us if they like, but I think Anna's mother should stay here. I'd understand that each one wants to keep the other safe, though, so I'll leave it up to them."
*anna kinda went pale, but then again, that coulda just been the light. "How much do I have to decide?"
*"About 7."

*the sun was up. it was noon.
*the flowers were turnin’ up towards the sun, an’ for the first time in the day, i could see how bright, how beautiful they were.
*an’ the birds were out, an’ were singin’ enough to wake a few kids up, but i could imagine them singin’ one thing, an’ one thing only.
*”They’re gonna die, they’re gonna die, they’re gonna die.”
*we may not be able to find the person who directly killed my brother.
*an’ because there were about 45 people there shootin’ at us in the middle school, we’ll probably never find out.
*now, i’m not willing to stoop down as far as the leader did.
*i will not return genocide with genocide.
*i swear it.
*but the leader caused my brother to die.
*they caused all of these monsters to die.
*monsters with… homes, an’ families, an’...
*the leader’s gonna die.
*they’re gonna die.
*they’re gonna die today.


*the sun is up.
*it’s noon.
*but the sky is red.





Chapter Text





I could tell you how green and blue the Earth appears on the outside, and I could tell you how dark, how rusted- red it is in its core.
I could tell you everything I saw, all of the things that battered around inside me during that time, and even everything that I thought, but it still wouldn't be enough.
I could show you the endings to all of the letters.I wrote to the government officials. I could show you the tattered edges of my coats, write stories of their own from there. I could even show you logic.
I could wipe out all of the emotions, press it all from the pages and squeeze it all the ground, dump all of it in the backyard and end up having it smack me in the face all over again. But if that happened, it all would be lifeless, dry, as dust-crusted as everything that I touched those months was.
So I will tell you the only way I know how.
25 September.
He looked at me.
He looked at me...and I couldn't make any guesses as to how he was unaware of it. Revenge poured out of him. He was revenge. He'd lost the person who'd mattered most to him.. He was young. He'd lost the person who'd mattered most to him.
I had played a substantial role in Gallsop Farm. Other than driving an ambulance here, I had joined my coworkers in educating others on the monster-related first aid that was possible, I had done a huge part of the first aid myself, I had set up some simple chemical compounds in order to aid in the preservation of our food.
But none of them gave me what I wanted.
None of them gave the others what they wanted, what they needed. What they needed, plain and simple, was for the Anti-Monster Department to stop, to stop the death squads, to stop the gas shooting out of their guns at a rabbit’s heart rate, what they needed was for the mascot to be wiped out.
But when Anna looked at me, very much unclouded by revenge, all of the thousands of monsters swirling around her, I could see something very different: concern.
And perhaps I was rushing too headlong into this. I thought this at least once every seven and a half minutes, and when that happened, I’d sit on my haystack and ask myself if there really was any better way to go about this. I had left this to Sans, to Anna, to Nacarat, to Anna’s mother, but none of them gave an answer. Whether this was attributed only to respect, I don’t know. The only thing I do know is that whatever happens, I need to take everyone’s next step.
But the plan had been finalized. The mascot had made it very, very explicit to the civilians who were part of the squads that they were going themselves in order to purge the schools back near Mt. Ebott this evening to ensure there were no monster children left who would become the next generation and influence the rest shortly afterwards. Sickening, yes, but horribly methodical. So that settled the "where" and approximate "when" of it all.
I fully acknowledged Anna's extent of her combat abilities, as well as her ambition, so I put her on guard duty. To be fair, the mascot had most likely brought at least a few civilians for backup, but both Sans and I had to agree that she was being disparaged. I gave him some spiel about me wanting to save her potential for rebuilding the monster civilization if that was ever an option, but he only walked away without bringing it up, which was all I wanted. Him and I would do the actuall confrontation.
Even that would be in two parts.arts.
I knew my son, and I knew that he wouldn’t help me if he didn’t get to have a chance to fight the mascot first. And our conversation went along a little like this:
“Son, I know we both have the same power levels, and they’re better than the average bear around here, but I think you’re more… bent on this than I am. So I’m going to let you go first. Of course, you’ve known this for awhile. You’ve known this before you even set this barn up. You know how much of an exception I’m giving you by letting you do this, right?”
A smile, although he smiled so much it was hard to notice when he did it. “Yeah, Dad. More than you know.”
So I had to smile, too. “So I’m going to put on some restrict-”
“Bring it on.”
God, I still remember when I was his age. Just graduating high school, ready to plunge myself head-first into college, my parents swearing that I would never be able to be anything more than a blue-collar worker, that the money just wouldn’t fit, that I’d come back to live with them no matter what I did…
“Alright. So, the first one is I have to be right there.”
His smile turned into a little bit of a wince. “Alright.”
“The second one is that if anything happens, you have to give me a signal.”
“What signal?”
“Something in the sign language I taught you when you were a kid. What word it is, though, I don’t even want to say it here. People may start abusing it, and I’d be inundated before we’ve even left the barn. Just make sure it’s meaningful. Can you think of something now?”
A few seconds of a pause. And out of nowhere, thoughts began hitting me, just hitting me one after the other, that once I left, I wouldn’t be coming back. But they all stopped as soon as he spoke again.
“Yeah. Yeah, I think I’ve got one. You’ll definitely know what it is.”
“Alright. Good. Now, I have a third restriction.”
He didn’t say “bring it on” this time.
“If you don’t kill the mascot within fifteen minutes, then I’m taking over. I don’t want you putting yourself in too much danger, but I don’t want to bring in extra monsters, either. That would just put them in further danger.”
He nodded, but he didn’t say anything again.
I knew this was the best I could do. When he was bent this heavily, this horribly on revenge, any restrictions were nothing short of a miracle. So I patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry, son. I’m sure even with these restrictions, you’ll do a number on ‘em no problem.”
God, he’d rubbed so much off of me.
Before we knew it, after every facet of the plan had been flipped upside- down, turned inside- out, and analyzed, it was evening. Sans was the first one to pack his items, the first to drink at least three tubs of condensed milk, but Anna had been the first one to notice when I’d forgotten a few of my items. She hesitated, looked back, looked forward again, and eventually started doing target practice on some sizeable bales of hay nearby.
I went towards Nacarat, his face turned towards the fire that one of the head monsters had set outside using one of the trees one of the humans had knocked down what seemed to be a few months ago. All he did was shake his head.
“I have a culture to live for. I have a family I still have to find, right?”
“I understand. You did say goodbye, didn’t you?”
He hesitated, his mouth open for a few seconds, turned back to the fire, and nodded.
I nodded, pat his shoulder a second time, and for that evening it was just him and the flames.

We were ready.
I never realized the devastation that had happened to our town until now. Until I stepped away, until I knew what stability looked like, what survival felt like. I could have sworn that I tasted dust in my mouth, and try as Anna might to hide it, I could hear her choking back tears.
My son walked alone.
He walked alone, and he was numb, and it was the most horrible part of us all.
It took about three or four minutes after we stopped home, grabbed a few supplies, some food, some first aid supplies, for Sans to walk upstairs, to open the bedroom to Papyrus’ door, come down the stairs, and say, “C’mon. We’ve dilly-dallied here too long. We need to get to the school.”
At first, I said, “No, we need to grab a few more supplies,” but that was more to calm everyone’s nerves. But everything along those lines was stopped when I saw the Rubik’s cube in his hand that had belonged to Papyrus.
And I came up to him, and I squeezed his hand, and he didn’t pull away.
Anna had just finished making a homemade splint out of newspapers and some twigs we had in our backyard. She was ready. God, that girl was always ready, even though I knew she was feeling anything but confident. She was crumbling. The way she hesitated before saying the most basic things, the way she adjusted her sling whenever the tiniest dent came across it. But she was ready, and that was all I needed.
We made our way to the schools. Anna considered splitting up for a split second, but buried her head into her hands and started laughing, laughing, despite it all. We all decided we would wait at each school, switch schools every 15 minutes.
The high school. Nothing happened. Anna fiddled with a dried flower she’d found on the bench. Sans stared ahead, just stared. I considered patting his shoulder, but whatever he was staring at, he needed to explore, to plunge into, to come to terms with, and me doing anything to interfere would throw him off.
The middle school. Nothing happened except for everyone bordering on asking to leave, and us boring out the door when the fifteen minutes was over.
The elementary school, and it was Anna’s turn to let a few tears drip down from her eyes. Sans embraced her, but I knew that romance wasn’t even a dot, an iota of the tears that were heaving their way out of her chest. And it was my turn to stare forward, to wonder, for the first time, how. Not why, but how humans could be so monstrous. How they could do this. How they could look at a child in the eye and snuff them right out.
The question how took me seven minutes before we heard a trumpet. No drums. No trombones, no voices, no parts of the marching band the department had accompanied with them. Only a trumpet, and it was crying, blowing its metallic song.
Anna kept the possibility in the air that it was a survivor, somehow trapped with nothing but his or her instrument. Sans kept it ambiguous, but Anna still flinched every time she looked into his eyes. And I… I kept marching on.
We kept marching on, and as we went to the high school, the trumpet sound split into two, to three, and if there was any terror in Anna’s own eyes, I didn’t see it. But if there was any revenge buried inside of my son, I saw it. I saw it all. They were civilians, every one. Or at least they used to be. They used to have lives where they helped people, where they saw at least humans as having a sizeable amount of dignity.
And he was about to kill them. He was about to kill every single one of them.
I came up to him just before they opened fire. A whisper.
“Don’t return genocide with genocide.”
And as the guns started shooting out their horrible gas, one of them flew, flew high above the air, crashed into the glass, fell down into a gangly heap that most likely needed medical attention.
And I stood in front of him.
My hand stretched out.
Wondering what the piano I’d just done.
And wondering why my son didn’t take even more than he did after me.
An explosion.
The school exploded in fear, in terror, in every hormone imaginable seeping from our veins, translating into humans either collapsing or running. Running out of the door, tripping, staggering.
It was all Sans could do to cling to the school lockers, to not sprint right after him.
And it was all Anna could do to realize she had just shot someone with their own gun.
It had happened fast, oh, so fast. They had been the last one. They could have been anyone. They could have been a janitor, an occupational therapist, a medical technician, a CEO, even. They had an emblem with the words “HSO” on their uniforms, identical to everyone else who was fighting with them. Death didn’t care. Death had no class. And as death, the gun, was pointed at Anna, she broke their legs, their arms, with a swift kick from her own legs, wrenched the gun from their hands, and shot them in the head.
It was an instinct.
Instincts. Instincts was what the humans had accused us of having too much of from the beginning. Instincts, now, was the one thing that, thanks to them, we couldn't live without.
But her shaking, dropping the gun, wasn't an instinct. Her collapsing to the floor, the sound of the gun clattering next to her wasn’t an instinct at all. The gasping and shuddering sounds that everyone knew as shuddering by now weren’t an instinct.
She could be human. We could all be human.
All I could do was comfort her, to know what her father she never had would do in that situation. All I could do was hold her, stroke her hair, sometimes quite literally wiping the tears off of her face. All I could do was hide the fact that I shivered when she fired the gun.
And Sans stood still.
Ten or so minutes had passed when we heard it.
The last trumpet.
In that moment, I knew it was one of the soldiers, yet I didn’t heave myself, heave Anna up to fight him. In fact, I wasn’t sure of anything then except for the feeling of my fingers through Anna’s hair or the emptiness that made its way in blips through me.
Sans still stood still, went into his pocket, took out and fumbled around with the Rubik’s cube he had that morning when Papyrus was-
He was gone.
Papyrus was gone, yes, but Sans seemed to move from his spot. I looked up. My ears were anxious; the trumpet had gone as well. It had gone mid-call, an interrupted angel. I stayed with Anna, hoping against hope for my ears to catch something in their hands again.
And five seconds later, I heard it.
At first, I thought it was a collapsing pipe, a cracking piece of floorboard, something that was at least a little normal. But as I listened, it came again, this time with it muffled. It came again. And again. And again.
As much as it hurt me, we had to adhere to the plan. Otherwise, we’d open a gigantic breach in our defenses, and none of us would have done anything for the monsters in the stronghold. I told Anna that she had to have guard duty, but that she could take a rest- not with any sleep in it- so that she could do what she’d agreed to her.
She heaved herself towards the outside door, and I sprinted to the gym. Thuds were coming from it, thuds so loud, piercing, constant, that they could only come from-
A fight.
My son had found the mascot.
I had to wait. I had to wait before processing anything else. I had to wait before moving, wait before breathing. I had to wait.
The HSO had… they’d brainwashed them. No, worse. Whatever they’d done, whatever extent it was, it had taken Frisk, warped them unrecognizable. They were a monster.
Their shirt was blue and purple.
They had a knife in their hand.
They had a knife in their hand.
I’d never seen him like this. Not my son, I thought. Not the boy who’d quietly seethe whenever someone so much as accidentally kick an animal. I’d never seen him like an animal, all torn and jaded, teeth like claws, hands a tornado. Bones came everywhere, ripping through the mascot’s body, and the ma-Frisk- landed on the ground in a heap.
The tears froze as they made their way to my eyes.
I thought it was over.
I thought it was over, but after only a few moments, Frisk stood back up. When he stood, nothing on Sans’ expression changed like it did mine. He was a rock, one of the same rocks he’d loved to carve with Papyrus in the backyard. He’d etched the year on it, and bury it in the ground while Papyrus tossed his as far as he could into the woods. Both of them hoped that maybe one day, their great great great great grand children would discover them, would wonder how they lived back then…
I banged at the door, praying to whatever god would allow this child to be twisted like this that I could find a way inside that room. But as I kept banging, banging until I thought, I knew the glass would break, I realized that my son was using his telekinesis to bar the door.
Fifteen minutes, I’d given him.
Neither Frisk nor Sans were what I’d ever seen them before, and nothing that I would ever see them again. Frisk was a demon. Contorted, twisted, coming back to fight the same fight, coming back with barrages that terrified me as much as it convinced my son to go on, to go on. Their eyes were red. Their eyes were red with desire, their knife empty. The tip. The tip cracked the wall each time it cleaved into it, cleaved just a few inches to the left of my son’s hoodie.
My son. He was a demon, too.
He was from hell. He was hell. His eye was fire, his fight was a song of terror. The bones that flew through the air pierced young flesh, led me to bang on the door one more time each, brought me to the edge, made my hands tremble, try banging against the door again. He was light. He was darkness. He was tears. He was laughter. He was both. He was everything. He was nothing.
He was nothing.
He was tired.
I knew the type of tired he was.
Sleep wouldn’t ever fix this.
Love from anybody else other than my last son, my own little fire, wouldn’t ever fix this.
Nothing that I, a scientist, could think of, would ever fix this.
And he put his hands down to his sides.
He slipped both hands behind his back, joined his index fingers, slid his left fingers towards his right palm.
Sign language for
I banged at the door.
I screamed, “DON’T!”.
I was the only one who seemed to have heard.
He closed his eyes, as if something bright were pouring into them.
And when the knife ripped through his ribs, he seemed all too content to fall over.

Chapter Text

If only he’d died then.
I saw the blood drip out of his mouth first. And when I opened the door, after the sound of the knife clanging on the nearby wall one last time, childs’ feet running, and the door slamming, the first thing I heard was a not-quite-inhale, a not-quite-exhale, gasping and wheezing, and I stooped down so quickly I almost passed out on top of him.
A pool. Not a trickle, not a flow. A pool was forming under him, faster than I could see. He was breathing, breathing faster than I could hear.
“Take your hand away. Please. I need to see.”
“I hurt, h-”
“I need to see, son, please.”
He took his hand away from his chest. It shook, and it kept on shaking when I held it.
And when I saw it, I knew.
I knew, and I scooped him, gently, gently, into my arms, pressing on on the red scarf that had stretched from his left shoulder to the right side just underneath his ribs. Gently. Gently. I took him to the clinic, the security cameras were just to the right, I locked the door, put every chair in front of it with the same wave of my hand my son used, I raised him up so he was sitting, facing to the side…
“Dad, I-”
The three worst coughs I’ve heard. Wracking coughs, all full of what he needed, what was dripping, flowing away from him from the red sash across his ribs.
“ sorry…”
My lies were just as profuse.
“Hey, hey, hey, don’t worry. Look at me. Look at me, look at me, hey, hey. You’re gonna be alright, okay?”
“Guys? Guys, you in here?!”
Oh, God. Anna.
Baging. Banging. Banging at the door.
“Let me in, let me in, let me in! Let me in! Jesus, please, let me in!”
I moved back the chairs, let her in, waved the chairs back in until they ground to a scream.
“Anna, please.”
And for the first time since the time she’d shot that officer in the head, she was speechless.
She pulled up a chair.
She must have had extensive first-aid knowledge.
She must have known exactly what tools to equip, exactly what chemicals would act as styptics.
But the way she dropped her head, dulled her eyes over, looked at just a drop in the pool, turned her mouth into a fluttering rubber band, she must have known something far more different.
And she touched his coat.
And that was all.
And that was all.
“Hi, Anna, sorry ‘bout this… heh… just think… I can... it’s all gonna…. it’s gonna stop right here… and you’ll be safe, too…”
“Bud, I’m gonna try.”
She didn’t move a muscle.
He was so tired.
“More than… than I woulda done…”
And as I pressed down, panicked. The more time passed on by, the warmer and warmer my hands, my bandages became, as I told more and more lies,
“No, no, don’t say this stuff, don’t say this stuff, don’t, don’t, shut up, shut up…”
I said nothing I meant to.
I did everything I meant to, but the blood flow didn’t go down. Jesus, it didn’t go down, and the sounds of the battle, the scrapes, the horrible thudding noises, the screaming from both of them, the screaming from the people who had been snuffed away in this city, the screaming, the screaming, the screaming- and my temples crumpled, my head fell against the cot for just a moment.
When I picked it up, I looked, and his hand was pushing me back down. I brushed it off with one hand, kept on pressing down with the other, but his hand took mine off again.
“Dad. Please.”
Anna rocked a few times, sat still again.
Other than the dripping that sounded like tears, the breeze of the AC units, the room was quiet. The room was dark except for whatever light could stream in through the skylights outside the clinic. The stars outside were still hidden by the sun, but something told me he could see them all.
He was so tired.
His eyes were dimmed, almost closed, looking through me, through the room, through everything around us. I pulled him into an embrace, and he shuddered, squeezed my hand for a few seconds.
He was so tired.
“Dad… it’s Paps…”
A few coughs, more shakes than anything.
A smile.
Not like any of the ones I’d seen on him in years.
“ you see ‘im, Dad?”
Papyrus is gone barrelled his way to my tongue, but I stopped it. God, I stopped it.
“Yeah. I do.”
A few seconds where there was only the dripping and the breeze.
His eyes became too heavy for him to keep them open, and it was then that I let the tears come out of my throat.
“Papyrus, I...I’m so happy that… I’m so glad… so glad… so…”
A sigh.
I only felt dust.
As I let my head sink into the cot, as I let the cameras do what they would, as I let it take all my screams, as I let the cameras roll, as the world fell apart behind me, as the world collapsed in all angles onto me, as the world dilated and contracted and dilated again, as I screamed all sorts of expletives, all sorts of, “No, no, God no”s, all sorts of imploding logic, all sorts of questions, ripped out, as to why logic slipped right away…
Anna sat still.

Chapter Text

Anna sat still.
She sat still, and the shadows twisted into what I thought was peace, but settled into my stomach as something far worse. They twisted into my skin, and I shook.
I shook, and the tears flowed, and my heart was bleeding.
I wasn’t a father anymore.
I wasn’t a father anymore.
Both of them were gone. I could still feel the brustle of their jackets next to my coat. I could still feel their laughter, now ripples in the breeze. Fatherhood was like that. Something I thought I could grasp in my hands, never once thinking I could let it slip away so easily…
I wasn’t a father anymore.
I tugged on the world as it kept falling around me, kept crashing. I tugged on it, tried to lash it, even. But Anna, oh, Anna put a hand on my shoulder after it seemed like months, years, ages, neverending…
“Dr. Gaster, the mascot, it’s… still here.”
It took everything in me not to lash out at her. It took everything in me not to scream, to shout, “GET AWAY FROM ME!”, to tie restraints on what was already so suffocated. But I tugged at the dust, tugged at the world I wanted so desperately to keep a stranglehold on…
...and I managed to sit still.
I sat still, and the shadows twisted into what I thought was peace…
I took the dust. I wasn’t going to leave it on a cot. Sans hadn’t left Papyrus’ on the middle school floor, either. No, he’d taken it to Gallsop, left it in greener pastures, verdant, pastures I knew were only myths.
Damn it, I wasn’t going to leave it on this cot.
I stared up at the cameras, and they taunted me right back. They were daring me to bury the dust someplace else; I knew it. And as the plans formed in my head to make one last trip, to go out into the creek that the students loved to walk to, to sprinkle the dust in as if it were burnt incense from the Masses I’d been to as a child, they taunted me even more…
“Come on, Gaster. They’re going to find us in here, they’ve already almost found us, if it weren’t for the barricade, they would have-”
“So let her come.”
Her eyes caught on fire with terror. She winced, stared at the floor.
“So let them come. We have no way to go back to Gallsop anyway, do we? There’s nothing left for us here. Haven’t you found that out yet?”
She was about to speak, looked at the dust. She must have thought of something different, something higher than what she’d lost, and the pain made its way in ripples through her.
“You’re… right. That’s what I’ve been saying from the beginning, isn’t it?”
It was.
I took the dust, took the world, clenched it in my hands, taunted the cameras one last time, and cradled the dust into my pocket.
I killed them.
I killed them, and it didn’t have much ceremony, didn’t even have the expletives my son had let slip out. Sans had already weakened them so much, and they’d already robbed the city so much of monsters, of food, of everything they’d purged, that all it took was me grabbing the gun off of the floor, cocking it, waiting until they were in the right position, and shooting them three times in the forehead.
And that was all.
The Gallsop survivors call me a hero, you know. They say that I was the reason the genocide was stopped. Some of the students’ essays from the college I’d taught thermodynamics at says that I “paved the way for modernized monster society.”
They slumped to the ground, twitched twice, stopped, let go of their knife.
And that was all.
There was no fight. I hadn’t been looking forward to a fight, and a fight wasn’t what anyone needed.
It was over.
It was over… and my hands shook. My eyes watered, almost as if they wanted to protect me from the fact that there was a child in cardiac arrest about three feet in front of me, and that it was my fault, it was my fault…
The world stopped warping around me and started hanging like the blankets my children loved to wrap themselves in when they were children. It wrapped itself around everything I saw, everything I did…
Was I any better than the dying, or dead, child in front of me? Was I really-
Anna put a hand on my shoulder. I turned to the side, noticed how my arm was still clinging, still blinding, still red from the clinic…
It was over.
It took awhile, it took hell, it took eternity to make my way past Frisk’s still-brown eyes, to forge apst all the classrooms, all the piles of dirt on the newly laid school carpet, made my way past the lockers, wrenched myself to the left to avoid the clinic. But I made it.
A door. Pad-locked, at least until Anna and I gave it more than a few sweeping kicks. If there were the words “KEEP OUT” or anything along those lines on there, I most likely ignored it. A paper was tossed off to the right with a password on it, the words, “Don’t let the world forget” scrawled on it.
My heart froze in its bones.
I don’t know how long it took. I don’t care how long it took. But I combed through almost every area of the footage, moving on to the next room if I couldn’t see Frisk or some students being rounded up within the first minute of me watching it.
The HSO. They’d ruined Frisk, they’d torn them apart and-
I let myself stretch my hands over the keyboard for a little while.
A USB. That’s all that I was left with, but it was all I ever needed. All I ever needed to prove what had happened, to lay it to rest. All that the cameras seemed to have was all I ever needed.
It was all I ever needed in order to say goodbye.
And as I recorded the last few minutes of the clinic’s footage, I heard what would make me the most resigned I’d ever been in those past two horrible, blistering, tear-wrenching, fucking days…
My heart started in its bones again, for the first time, started for the first time since my stars, my sons were formed all across the sky, all across my life...

Chapter Text

How was I supposed to get back to Gallsop?
I had to go back to Gallsop, didn’t I? The only method of my transportation had been dead for at least an hour. And burying his dust in front of the mountain seemed like a noble idea at first, but then I remembered the nights he looked at me like he was about to cry whenever I managed that mountain. Burying him in front of the mountain, next to where most likely all the rest of the monsters would be buried, would eat at me until I dug his dust up myself anyway.
Gallsop. That was the only place his brother would be, and the only place where he wanted to be during his eighteen years was his brother.
And that was all he ever needed, wasn’t it?
We walked. That was the first thing we did. We walked away from that horrible place, and after a short reminder from Anna that we needed at least a couple of hundred dollars if we wanted to go where we needed to go, we went our way home.
I wish I could say I covered my eyes. Hell, I wish I could say that at least Anna covered hers, and that I led her all the way. That was what Sans would have done. That was what Papyrus would have done.
And it’s what I didn’t do at all.
We both opened our eyes, we both saw all the dust, we blinked away every ounce of it that went into our eyes and stung them. We teared up, too exhausted to cry. We saw everything that was and walked forward to everything that was supposed to be.
And where else could we go besides home?
I went back to my desk. I only meant to sit there for a little while, to wait until my feet stopped throbbing from all the walking, but by the time I came to enough to move again, Anna told me I’d been asleep for the past forty-five minutes and that she’d spent the entire time packing up. Of course, then I started frantically combing through all of my papers for anything that would be remotely necessary when sending something internationally. Then I started taking everything that reminded me of who else had lived in this house besides me and moving it to anywhere that wasn’t my desk. Anna looked at me for a little while, confused, and then looked at the pile. There was a pair of winter gloves. Some Scotch tape. Some sunglasses. But what kept banging from behind my forehead was that they were each for something. The pair of winter gloves for a snow fight that would keep me up at night. The Scotch tape, used to wrap presents for the Christmas parties at my sons’ schools. The sunglasses for the one trip to the pool we had that was cut short by a piece of legislation.
When I’d taken everything I could carry, everything that was cold paper, cold logic, anything that couldn’t remind me of them, I asked Anna the one question I thought I’d know.
“Where are we supposed to go now?”
In hindsight, it was ridiculous. If I could, I would have taken it back and kept it to myself. However, there were so, so many other things I could take back, each one of them a recurring dream that leaves me a little more frightened to go to sleep.
“I’m… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t’ve, Anna, I-”
“Don’t. Don’t worry about it, alright? It’s been way too fucking horrible to get even a lick of sense.”
I had to go back to my desk, because that was the only place in the house that I couldn’t see their ghosts.
Now, where to go from here? I needed something. Something strong. So I poured some soda; it ate away at the bones just a little, and besides, Papyrus had fixed one too many cups of coffee for me to be able to drink that.
We could go back to the airport. That seemed like the most obvious choice. The headquarters had already ordered their ceasefire for their troops, so we could hopefully go the eight miles it took to get there undisturbed. But there that posed another problem. It was eight miles away. Even at ideal amounts of food and rest, it would still prove to be a grueling journey, and now, with both Anna and I looking very much the worse for wear, I was on the verge of letting her sleep in Papyrus’ room, the couches being filled with paperwork and miscellaneous items. We could take the car, but even from here, I could see abandoned cars filling up the main road from monsters that had been instantly commanded to get out of their cars, then getting rounded up and killed. Public transportation was impossible now, and we only had one bike.
But even more importantly: what if the people from Gallsop had heard the news of the ceasefire and then stopped their transports? What if they were already heading back down here, trying to rebuild whatever hellhole the humans had created? In that case, we could just stay here, but that could take almost a week, and we’d already been eating the bare minimum to stay conscious for the past two days. The pantry would last Anna and I a few days, but the power to the refrigerator had already been cut off, and the last thing we’d need is two cases of food poisoning on our hands.
So where else could we go?
There was the food pantry about five miles away, but that was at the local church, and with our “Mary-induced” beliefs, they’d skin our hide, ceasefire or no ceasefire, as soon as they’d find out.
There were the houses of a few humans here that I know, but they were all coworkers who either were decent enough to be helping out whatever of us were left at Gallsop or heartless enough to turn Anna and I away as soon as they so much but saw us.
Or we could just wander around, wait for someone else who was in the same situation as us, ask them if they knew of anywhere else to go, or if they could at least keep us company. They’d probably have some knowhow that Anna and I couldn’t even dream of. But that would just be haphazard, and what if the person didn’t have anything to add to the ta-
We were taking the car.
I took Anna’s first aid kit, grabbed my car keys, and told Anna to get into the passenger seat, and she beat me there despite her having more to pack. I would have asked Anna if she knew how to drive, but I bit my tongue. There had been no cars in the Underground, so both of us had only a year of driving experience, at best.
Still, it was nothing less than nerve-wracking. My hands hurt as I tried to dodge car after car that was stopped, the issue only compounded when someone else was still somehow driving in the other lane. When I realized the first person that had passed us by was a human, I told Anna to unbuckle herself and to take the towels we had underneath the seats and fasten them to the windows by trapping them in the gap made when they were slightly lowered.
By the time she was buckled back in, my heart rate had skyrocketed, whatever was around me started threatening the prospect of tunnel vision, we had went a few miles, at most- and the heart of the city lay just ahead.
I swerved. I pushed our little sedan to its limit, ended up involuntarily doing a few calculations before I made a few turns. Anna yelped a little; I was going to tell her to cover her eyes, but she was already three steps ahead of me.
And all in all, I hit a curb.
The car went out of alignment, but what was there to complain about? We were out of the heart of the city. Now, there were only a few cars parked on each side of the road now, and most of them were parked.
I laughed a little, the same way my oldest would, before heading out on the highway to where the only traffic there was were lines of cars that were ordered to park in the emergency lane. By the first mile to the airport, my hands started to shudder, and by the third, my hands couldn’t hold the steering wheel, and Anna screamed about the car drifting to the emergency lane before I did. So I pulled over at the next exit, and we switched.
Anna was still shaking, although she had the sense to switch to the left lane when she was drifting to the right, the sense to switch to the right lane when she was dripping left.
I don’t know why I closed my eyes at first. Maybe it was the caravan of cars still packed in the emergency lane. And I only meant to close my eyes for a few minutes, to chase away the caravans, each car that meant one of us, two, three, four, five of us had died.
But I supposed I closed my eyes long enough to fall asleep.
When Anna and I reached the airport, I opened my eyes, and the first thing I saw was a fire. At first, I started to protest, but then realized the fire was in the grass outside the airport, and whoever was sitting around the fire was just odd enough, had features just contorted enough to not be human.
And when I walked towards them, I couldn’t help but let a few tears fall.
When you’re in a community of 1,000, and you’re segregated from the rest of society, whether inside or outside the mountain, you tend to know at least a basic amount of information about everyone who lives there. The one to the left was Baeraeht, a tiny green monster with the tiniest horns who couldn’t wait to start school but wouldn’t believe whoever told him he wouldn’t be allowed in. The one on the center was Baeraeht’s mother, Caeorl, who knew more about cars than I would ever know and could probably fix mine in a heartbeat. And the third was Faemnnae, who had served Asgore and tried and failed numerous times to advocate for whatever the humans decided to take away from us.
And when I was finished, Baeraeht didn’t even ask why I was crying.
“But like I said, this is going to be tricky.”
It had been about twenty minutes since we were at the airport, and Caeorl suggested to me that if a plane didn’t arrive in a few hours, we’d have to bite the bullet and drive the rest of the way to Gallsop ourselves. I bit my lip and almost told her the true reason why we’d have to drive, but I ended up just pointing out that she needed to adjust her collar before turning back to Faemnnae.
Meanwhile, Faemnnae and I had gotten a wireless signal. Using the computer I used for teaching college students, I was attempting to somehow convert the video footage from the security cameras to something I could send to another continent. I knew a myriad of people I could send it to, people with no dearth of both scientific and political influence,
“Other than who you know, I have a few people who aren’t going to be shy when helping us. I know someone in the Czech Republic who’s a lot like Anna… young, idealistic, wants monsters to have everything, yada yada yada. Except her father dabbles in foreign work, which means she has power. I also know an actual politician from Germany who seems to have a knack for moving money from place to place and making it do whatever he wants.”
I nodded, added them to the list of people I’d send the footage to.
It was almost evening. Still, nothing had come. I’d assigned Anna to play with Baeraeht in order to distract him from the fact that he was hungry, but Anna seemed to be faltering behind him too. I’d sent it to five people I knew, ten. By the time we organized a party to search through a local grocery store to see if it had any food left, I was nearing the end of my contacts.
Faemnnae sighed. “Like I said, it’s going to be tricky. Even though they’re friendly to us, we’re… we’re…”
“Not too high on their totem pole, right?”
“Exactly. Hate to break the news to you, but I don’t think there’s been a soul who’s ever been friendly to us, really.”
A gear in my mind, somewhere buried in there, snapped to action.
“Besides the kids. I mean, Baeraeht had an amazing time in school. He was popular, actually. He’d come home, asking if he could play with someone I’d barely even met, and-”
“Excuse me?”
“The news. That’s where we’ll send the footage next. That way, even if the people I’m sending the footage to now deny that we ever sent them the footage, we have evidence against that. But most importantly, the humans can’t ever deny what they did to us.”
“Are you crazy?! Most of the news is controlled by the Human Security Organization anyway.”
“Not anymore, Faemnae. Not with the ceasefire.”
Faemnnae paused, nodded. She twirled with one of her tools, some type of monkey wrench, in her hand.
“Alright. But don’t send it to too many news channels, alright? I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Alright. I promise.”
I’d sent it to fifteen news channels, six of which I’d never heard of, before Faemnnae caught me and the grocery search party had returned home. I promised her not to send it to any more fairly mainstream news channels, and I spent the next half hour building a “safety net”, sending the footage to more independent or local news channels, praying that they weren’t puppet channels, pretending to be independent yet acting more under the government than the more widespread news channels. By the time my computer’s battery had died and I was on the prowl for some sort of outlet, it was night. Anna suggested to Faemnnae that we start heading out; it had been three hours since we had last seen a plane of any sort come and land here, but Faemnnae looked at Baerhaet, looked back at Caeorl, looked back at Baerhaet, and told Anna no, that it was too dark to see any work we were doing, and driving here was perilous enough with light. Even with headlights, the risk of getting into an accident was too high.
Anna came out, spread out a deflated air mattress that one of the workers must use at the airport during dangerously long shifts, her face like a tablecloth, then lay into it without considering to find any bedsheets or pillows.
I had been taking out Deltarune, writing in it feverishly sometimes, staring at the stars that hung above me at other times. It was only then that I found it, sticky note after sticky note, page after left-hand-written page.
My son had been tampering with this.
I’d trained myself to hold back my tears during something like this, but I still felt a profound sense of bereavement, confusion, love, as I read through the entries my son had made. By the time I had finished even the first entry, finding my eyes skimming over the text, finishing it, restarting, Anna had asked me to go somewhere else.
And so I was. I was. That was all I had to say. I had no wife. I had no children. It was just me, and only I was. I was at the top of a nearby hill, under the moon, reading, expanding on, listening to my son’s last words in the wind...

Chapter Text

And afterwards, the whirlpool sprung to its feet, the world came out of its hiding spots, and starting at the next came.
It began with the flight that came in a few hours into the next morning. At first, I noticed the plane’s odd coloring and sprinted towards it, but realized that not one person on the plane spoke a lick of English. Using the same translation program I used for sending the footage, we worked to tell them our situation, and they practically tossed us into the plane as if the mascot were right behind us.
It took an unimaginable amount of effort, but we were able to tell them to take us to Gallsop’s airport, practically wrenching their plane west instead of east. Not that they were incompetent; they managed to somehow treat wounds more effiiciently than the monsters in the Gallsop barn did, and they speedily picked out which of us were suffering from malnutrition and giving us what we needed. This wasn’t a hastily flown-out plane from Europe; this was an operation they must have planned hours before their flight.
We came towards the Gallsop barn, and I had to be the one to tell Nacarat, to tell the middle-schoolers, to tell all of my sons’ friends what had happened. Only one cried, with the rest having the same expression Anna’d had in the clinic, staring down at the floor, some clenching their fists ever so slightly.
But overall, it was nothing compared to the news that we were the ones who’d caused the ceasefire. I was about to tell them the next news, but at the last second, I decided to hold back as Anna told them that we were the ones who had killed the mascot.
The mascot. Frisk was a child.
But so were mine.
The troops may have held a ceasefire, but we were still far from being safe. On one side, we had the people of Gallsop who’d heard of the ceasefire, which while giving us hope of what happened to us being publicized on the news, also gave the people an incentive to kick us out. And even if we could all fit ourselves on the planes, there could still be hostiles back at the city.
Gallsop didn’t necessarily give us a choice, though, and soon, we were sent packing.
It was then that I became most like a child. The barn was soon sprung into evacuation, but I looked to the left, looked to the right, and then went to the back of the barn where one of my coworkers were.
I coughed to chase down the stupid, fucking tears in my throat. “You have the hoodie, right? And the scarf too?”
He nodded. “It’s here. They’re all here. I did separate the two piles of dust, though. One’s in a blue bag, the other’s in an orange one.”
My sons’ remains. My sons’ remains had been color-coded and stuffed into bags.
I cleared my throat. “Thank you.”
I wasn’t able to hide from it this time, and he made sure not to look me in the eye. “Well, I’ll… leave you to it. You can go to your business, and… I’ll go to mine.”
And I buried them to where a strand of their dust was reaching out to each We were able to squeeze ourselves on the planes, to completely empty the barn in the span of a couple of hours, but when we went into the town after one last plea to the Europeans to tell the word, they left and we were left to our piles of dust.
For a few minutes, we were silent.
Slowly, we started to rebuild. Started to first bury our dead. Because I’d finished, I wandered into my bedroom and shut the door.
And for the first time, I screamed.
It was only one scream, and it may have lasted only for a few seconds, but it still felt as if I’d created a new monster of my own, a monster that slipped out of my voice and out the door, only soothed by rocking back and forth… back and forth…
We were home.
There was nothing left in my home.
I didn’t move, but I left, immersed myself in somehow, someway rebuilding the lives that we’d once had. I didn’t hold thoughts of success like a carrot to my nose; I moved, and movement was all that I was. 16, 18, 20 hour days, I would work. Oftentimes, I went over to Anna’s mother’s house, asking her if I could sleep there for the night. She never asked for an explanation, didn’t do anything that I would have done. She only nodded, dusted off her couch, stretched out her hand towards it.
We first started off by contacting our utility companies, which spent about a half hour each denying that they even heard of cutting off any of their services to our neighborhood. We then restocked our basic supplies, repaired everything in the homes that had started to malfunction over the week that we were gone. We then established meetings in each others’ homes, established carpools after carpools to the local hospital and doctor in order to heal the physical and mental wounds. Not the scars, never the scars. Here is how we decided to go to the human doctor instead of relying on me.
“Dr. Gaster, right?”
“Yes, is this about me becoming the doctor?”
“It’s your title, isn’t it?”
“I’ve done enough- no, I can’t do enough, I- I’ve worn myself out with taking the ambulance to and from Gallsop.”
“Well, that’s alright. You don’t have to fix everyone up, I suppose. How about the people who are…. erm, bad enough to go to the hospital?”
It felt like my neck had been grabbed by the cold chill outside. “Well, can’t they just go to the hospital?”
“You know this, don’t you? They’re not accepting us all at once, it’s too overcrowded. You can at least stabilize them, right? You can at least do first aid, an-”
Red thoughts came.
“Look. I can’t. I just can’t, alright?”
“If I can come back to you later, would it be alri-”
“Physically. Physically, I can’t. I used to, but not anymore. Now, I’m very sorry, but you’ll have to find somebody else.”
“There’s no one els-”
“Please, please go, I already told you that I can’t, now will you please go?!”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t just leave when there’s people…”
The thoughts became redder. I slumped on the couch to keep them from coming, pretended to be interested in the wood on the desk.
A tear.
God, I was so pathetic.
“Please go. I’m… I’m begging you.”
Not the scars, never the scars.
The next thing that we did is, rather than encouraging attendance in the public schools again, discouraged it. God knows the bias that they were pouring out now, and whatever history papers my sons brought to me on a daily basis, they were no doubt twice as horrible.
And the very next thing that we did was reestablish our original jobs, which took longer than we expected, even as gloriously low as our expectations were. It took me weeks to attain my position at the university again, and I couldn’t say it took any shorter for any of my neighbors to get their jobs back. Even more difficult than obtaining our jobs again was recovering no small amount of money that had mysteriously disappeared from the banks while we were gone. The banks then went on claiming they didn’t know there was such a thing happening, they didn’t know why our money would leave our bank accounts while we were gone, and that they were very sorry, but we must have taken the money out ourselves; there was no other explanation.
Submitting what was practically a tome to the United Nations, working together with the officials we’d managed to get ahold of, took months. And whether or not they would acknowledge it or pretend it was copies of the local furniture store’s coupon book was another story altogether.
But what was possibly more difficult than all of the preparation, all of the sweat that poured from our brows, was the fact that we lived every day next to the humans. There was no dearth of gratitude, but I could still see a flash of fear in the humans’ eyes and a torriential wave in the monsters’ whenever they crossed paths. I could still see the pamphlets pouring out on the street, on the sidewalks, crammed in the windows of the few Catholic churches that popped up in our neighborhood from time to time, human children tearing through the pamphlets like they were only the grass in their backyards…
But there was something else.
It began just when the snow began to fall, when I was climbing my way to my position, starting out as the physics professor’s assistant. In the cafeteria, rumors were spreading about how I’d gotten some insomnia one night and slipped my way to the bedroom where one of the professors’ wives slept at. Me? With my coffee stains, my eyebags, the fact that I was a monster and nothing more than that? Me?
It was the janitor who’d spoken up. She was what I expected her to be… a monster, as unfortunate as it was.
“I was with him all night long. He was working. Made my way ‘round the building, and he was still there.”
And it was only as they slowly ambled off to their rooms, only when I could peek past that one crack in the corner they always plan to fix, that I could see she was the same species as I was.
Black eyes stared into black eyes.
White bones cried towards white bones.
Her first name was Fraeoda. “Peace”.
And mine was Weilhaelm. “Guardian.”
I thanked her, but I didn’t seek her out, didn’t become quite as crazed as some of the college students I’ve seen. But night after night I continued my breakneck work habits, and she continued hers. It wasn’t long before she stopped touring around the school in hopes to find another mess to clean and started asking to come to my office when she was done.
She was a pretty woman, really. Mid-thirties. For someone who put on a janitor’s uniform during the workday, she had a sizeable sense of taste in her other clothes for contrast. The United Nations had finally accepted our petition, but it seems as though the humans didn't acknowledge it, or at least their legislators didn't. Endless speeches came about how they had no idea about how we'd suddenly been decimated and had no idea why. Meanwhile, the human children started to bring home papers that were startingly similar to the ones my sons brought home before it happened, saying that the monster population declined due to a lack of basic survival knowledge. But there was something to make it all work out, something little here and there. When the United Nations announced it, I swear I could hear the noise of parties going on here and there in the human neighborhood, although that could have been for any reason at all. We had been acknowledged. That was all we ever wanted. That was all I ever wanted with Fraeoda.
For those first few nights, we barely talked to each other. I worked on a thesis, she worked on whatever she needed to work on.
For the next few months, we moved on to small talk. She called me Mr. Gaster, I called her Miss Aeorbh. I found out that she often snuck to the college’s cafeteria and snuck back to her closet to eat instead of packing her own lunch. I found out that back in the Underground, she lived in the part of the Waterfall that was near the Hotlands, the hot weather being beneficial to her joints. And I found out that she wasn’t afraid to point out an error I made in one of my lessons… an error none of my students could point out even if I put it as a test question.
So she’d been disowned, taken advantage of by the world around her. She’d had an education. It’d been stripped from her. The humans had stripped it from her. There wasn’t any difference between her and I except for that.
So I asked if she wanted to eat her lunch in my office instead of her closet.
“It’s alright. And you’re not going to get in my way at all. If it’s roomy enough for 300 people, it’s roomy enough for you.”
She started off in one of the chairs, and I started off in the desk. Then the next week, I was on the edge of the classroom’s small stage. Then the next week, I was in one of the chairs, and the next, she laughed and told me to sit next to her.
And for the next month, I found out more about her. I found out things she said she didn’t admit to many people, but then again, there weren’t that many people for her to talk to these days. She said that she lived in one of the houses on the edge of the neighborhood towards the driveway with her mother. She held on tight to her wrist, telling me it was to take care of her in her old age, but she had a feeling that I knew the second reason why. She told me that while she loved science, she loved art more and had a collection of about twenty or so pastoral paintings in her house she needed somewhere to donate to.
One day in the spring, she left early. Her mother had been suffering from heart disease for quite awhile, she said, and emergencies happened too often for her to admit.
Another spring day, when the students were off for their spring break, she asked if I could fill in her shift.
“Say that again?”
“I need you to fill in my shift, Mr. Gaster.”
“Miss Aeorbh-”
“I just need you to finish the bathrooms down the hallway to the left, no one’s here, there’s no security cameras there, they won’t know that you were the one that did it, they just need it done, and-”
“Miss Aeorbh?”
“Yes? I need to go, and-”
“Miss Aeorbh, how on earth do I use the mop wringer?”
From then on, she called me Weilhaelm. I called her Fraeoda.
By the time I had finished the bathrooms, her mother had gone into a Fallen Down state. She passed that evening, and the next day, I found myself calling in sick the next day in order to attend her funeral, and to be fair, I was feeling a little under the weather. When I heard the inheritance… $8,000… I could practically hear Fraeoda’s tears. $8,000 wouldn’t be enough to get her past the summer, let alone carry her on into next year. Unless she sold her mother’s house.
Later that evening, I knew what I had to do. I ate my dinner at one end. And I could practically see my sons staring me down at the other end, one to the left and one to the right, right where they sat before.
What do you want? There’s nothing I can do, boys. She’s run out of money, and that’s that.
I could feel them glaring at me.
Since Sans’ room was downstairs, I decided to clean out his room. It had to be one or the other; there was no way that the couch would be open with the amount of paperwork I’d had on it.
I could feel the thoughts, red as ever, start to gang up on me.
Besides, I only have to clean it up halfway, right? And I don’t even have to sell anything. I can put half of it in the attic, half of it in Papyrus’ room. I don’t have to let go of a single thing.
I picked up the first item. A board game. My brain barreled to hours of us in the living room, countless noogies from Papyrus to Sans and Sans to Papyrus, Papyrus having to stoop down a little for Sans to give him one.
Will I be able to do this?
An hour passed by.
The bookshelf was empty- 10 board games, 55 books- and my head throbbed from the memories.
I can’t do this.
By the time that I finally did muster the nerve-and the time- to clean up his room enough to where Fraeoda could sleep in.
His pictures still hung up on the walls. Whenever I even thought about touching them, waves of unadulterated, blinding electricity seared through all the memories, restraining me. Clutching me. Claiming me, paralyzing me, calling me its own. Never letting me go.
It was then that I realized that I needed Fraeoda just as much as she needed me.
Her name was Fraeoda. “Peace.”
And mine was Weilhaelm. “Guardian.”
And we were married.
It’s been ten years since those hours in Gallsop.
Soon after we married, we furiously made plans, searched for every loophole, every part of our budget that would bring us under. Soon after we married, we started to pin down every job she could possibly have, landed her in a job in the monster-run library. While I missed the fact that she certainly wouldn’t come to work at the same time as I did, I had to remind myself that she would likely face more bias, more complaints against her, more docks to her salary, than I ever would there.
Nine months after that, she was pregnant.
I'd thought about their names, ruminated over them, the thoughts conceived in my mind the same time they were conceived in her.
“Are you sure, Fraeoda?”
“Yes, yes, I’m sure. I didn’t have any family when it happened except my mother, and she was the one who went to Gallsop. Guess who caused all of that, Weilhaelm?”
Silence. The moon poured into the room, and I could almost hear its song.
“Did he have any of the names humans use? John or Aiden or Luke?”
A little more silence, and as the moon hit me, it struck a chord.
“No. But he didn’t have you, either.”
“And what is that supposed to mean?”
And nine months after that, the twins were born.
Both boys.
The taller one I named Papyrus.
And the smaller one I named Sans.
Four years after they were born, there came Aaron.
I didn’t touch that name.
Three years after they were born, Sans and Papyrus had grown, running, a cataclysm of love and joy. Three years after they were born, Sans and Papyrus started to speak, learned the words “Brother” and “I love you.” One day, they wanted to be actors, the next, they wanted to be cowboys, the next, they wanted to be just like me, the toy stethoscopes falling off their necks.
They rummaged their way around the house in the way that only 3-year-old boys can, and soon, they went to one drawer in the living room, started looking around inside. I saw them peering, practically falling into the little box, heard them gasping.
Aaron cried on his blanket in the living room, stretched his hands, wanting to be picked up. But I knew that drawer had ghosts. I sprinted there, and I sprinted there with all my might.
That scarf. Papyrus had picked up the scarf.
“Daddy? What is this? Can I wear this?”
I let him wear it for awhile. God, I let Papyrus wear that scarf, wear his namesake, while I turned to Sans.
The hoodie.
“Dad? Why are the colors weird? This jacket is blue. Why is it red and purple?”
His namesake.
It took me every fiber of my being to gently take the clothes from the boys- which I thank God it wasn’t an ordeal since they were 3- put something on for them on the television, and told them that they’d have to wait until they were a little older before I told them more.
In hindsight, I was probably too dismissive about the whole issue.
Then again, though, I’ve always been too dismissive about the whole issue.
Because they were not an issue.
I looked towards Sans and Papyrus as they sat in front of the TV, as they practiced the word “brother” a few times before being sucked into the screen.
They were my sons.
They are my sons.’
I was the pelican.
In Roman Catholic tradition, the pelican is often depicted as pecking itself to the point of drawing its own blood in order to feed its younglings. While it may be highly unrealistic, its artistic value is undeniable.
And the person who stares at me through the eyes of my older twin, the person who talks to me every time I buy some knick knack for someone’s birthday and pass one of the whoopie cushions, the person who smiles at me every time one one twin hugs the other, eyes wide and bright...
He was my knave.
I saw Fraeoda, dressed in her Sunday best. I saw Berwin, talking to the human neighbor down the street, the same human whose mother practically shrieked every time she so much as saw Aaron. I saw my twins, taking the blue hoodie and red scarf again, wondering whose it was, and wondering why I told them they needed to wait until they were a little older. I saw Anna, on her way to Massachusetts Institute of Technology, waving to me one last time…
Perhaps one can choose who they are in this world.