It was a dark day in the Underground, as usual. Sans and Papyrus were roaming the woods of Snowdin, looking for humans to challenge with puzzles. Papyrus, the taller brother, was carrying a plate of frozen spaghetti. It was his magnum opus. Sans, the shorter brother, had a list of bone-related puns on his left thigh.

"hey papyrus,"

"WHAT IS IT, SANS?"

"what kind of art do skeletons like?"

"I DON'T KNOW."

"SKULLptures."

Papyrus screamed in frustration as Sans chuckled. Suddenly they both realized that their current situation was highly illogical. Skeletons don't have the muscle to be able to walk and talk. So they just fucking died.