THE JUNIOR YEAR JOURNAL OF SANSONE-MERRYWEATHER GASTER
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-
*cookies.
*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."
*"HELLO, SON. HOW WAS YOUR REST THE PREVIOUS NIGHT?"
*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."
*"THERE ARE COUNTLESS AMOUNTS OF PEOPLE AT MY WORKPLACE THAT WOULD LIKE THAT. WHAT'S THE SECRET?"
*i chuckle. i do that a lot.
*"nothin'... nothin' really, dad."
*jeez.
*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.
*heheh.
*i love my bro.
*"GOODBYE, BROTHER. HA! IT APPEARS AS IF I'VE BEATEN YOU TO THE PUNCH WITH THIS ONE!"
*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.
*alright.
*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.
*psychos.
*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.
*anyway…
*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.
*and it says, "FOLLOWING A NEW IMPLEMENTATION STARTING ON THE 6TH OF OCTOBER, ALL MONSTERS IN NINTH TO TWELFTH GRADE IN EBOTT HIGH SCHOOL SHALL BE PARTITIONED FROM THE REMAINDER OF THE STUDENTS IN THE ACCOMODATIONS THE EBOTT HIGH SCHOOL TRAILERS PROVIDE DURING ALL HOURS OF CLASS TIME UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE."
*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.
*y'know?