"Hey Gaster, where does bad light end up? In a prism!"
"Why did the bear dissolve in water? Because it was polar."
"Okay, okay, here's a good one. What does a subatomic duck say? Quark quark!"
"What did one sister chromatid say to the other? 'Stop copying me!'"
"What do you call an educated tube? A graduated cylinder!" Sans doubles over, laughing at his own joke.
Gaster looks down at the graduated cylinder in his hands. It's filled with a mixture of H2O and NaCl – saltwater - dyed light purple, not something that could cause damage to the drains. He steps away from the table and promptly dumps the liquid in the nearest sink. Setting it down, he drags a stack of sticky notes to him. He scribbles on the top one, then tacks it to the graduated cylinder.
Sans is wiping tears from his eyes when Gaster turns back to him and hands him the glass tube.
"Huh, what's this?" He asks, taking it, then begins to read. "'By decree of the Royal Scientists, all researchers and assistants assigned to Facility L-1 will be issued a Pun Tax. For every pun that is spoken, written, or gestured, by an employee inside the building while on duty, that employee must donate 1 G towards emergency funding.' Wow Gaster, this is pretty thorough."
Sans walks over to Gaster's desk and sets the cylinder down. "Well, I guess someone has a broken funny bone." He reaches for his wallet in his back pocket. Gaster can hear the clink of a coin dropping. Maybe this'll teach Sans to quit goofing off at work.
Gaster has piggy banks installed in every room and hallway of the lab and emails all employees the new regulations. The pun penance, or ""Punance"" as Sans calls it, raises 1 G the first day, 4 G the second, then 16 G the third. With such an exponential growth in revenue, Gaster wonders if it would be a good idea to set up a bank account. For the time being, he keeps the G in a glass jar on his desk, beside the graduated cylinder of Sans' donations.
"Gaster, it's getting late. I think I'm taking off for tonight." There's a faint squeak of a chair as Sans leans back into it, then popping of joints. Gaster shudders and looks away from a sample of Whisper Flower cells to watch Sans pack up his workspace. "Want me to wait for you?"
Gaster nods and holds up a finger. He unplugs the microscope and replaces the slides he was using to their proper packaging. Laying on his desk are a few reports handed to him over the day, and he slides them into his satchel, then puts it on.
Sans and Gaster leave the building effectively, and, not being the last to leave, don't have to worry about locking up.
"So anyway, Papyrus and Undyne have been sneaking off together recently, well, Undyne hasn't exactly been sneaking, I don't quite think subtlety is something she understands, but Papyrus has definitely been acting more secretive than usual. I think he thinks I haven't noticed, so I haven't said anything about it, but if this continues on for much longer I'm going to have to ask Undyne about it." Sans fills the silence with his words, Gaster nodding along in a polite manner.
"Oh, hey, look at that." Sans points up at the full moon. Only, it's not the actual moon because they live under the ground, and it is just neon lights someone thought to hang up. "That's pretty pretty. It actually reminds me of something. Hey Gaster, how do you know the moon is going broke? It's down to its last quarter!"
Gaster gives him an unimpressed look that goes unnoticed, Sans too busy chuckling. "Okay, okay, I guess that's a bit of a stretch, but it would have been funny if it was in any other phase." Gaster holds out his hand expectantly. "What? No, come on man, we aren't at work so your stupid rule doesn't apply here." Gaster drops it because Sans is correct. He isn't happy about it though, but he's willing to admit there's no way he can truly stop the pun master.
Sans appears to have concocted an idea and is grinning.
The rest of the week proceeds as usual. On Friday, Asgore visits the lab to pull him aside and question him about the Punance. He doesn't think it's a good idea to fine employees for harmless jokes, but Gaster explains calmly that no one is actually forced to pay per pun, and it is their choice to actually participate. Anyway, the money is going towards a good cause. Asgore looks unconvinced but admits there has yet to be any complaints, so it can't be that bad.
On Monday, Sans is gone when Gaster wakes up. He's in a dreary mood when he enters the lab, but Sans' smile immediately brightens up his day as soon as he sees it.
"Morning Doc, you're looking a bit pale. Hate to say it, but your face is bone white. Shit." Sans turns to drop a G into the container. "But seriously, you look a bit sick, maybe you should take the day off. It's a beautiful day outside."
Gaster walks over to the window and opens the blinds, letting light into the room. He's about to step away, but something catches his eye. Something bright and colorful and written in an irritating font on the sidewalk.
"what do you call a tooth in a glass of water?"
"a one molar solution."
It's written in chalk and obviously took a lot of time to create. He can't believe he didn't notice it while walking to work. Gaster points at the Punance jar. Sans smiles and shakes his head. "You have no proof it was me. And, whoever the genius was who thought up such a great plan was smart enough to avoid going against policy; it's written outside the building and wasn't done during work hours."
Gaster walks over to Sans and pats him on the head. This attempt was quite impressive, and he mentally decides not to order his assistant to do paperwork today.
He's down with the cold the next day. Gaster spends the long hours watching the news and eating warm soup. Occasionally, Sans texts him a selfie or a bad pun. At the end of the day, he sends a picture of a haphazard pile of G.
"Hey Gaster, yesterday while you were vegetating, I played with bacterial colonies with the biologists a few rooms over. Wanna see?" He offers over a petri-dish. Gaster glances at it, then huffs.
"why do bacteria like nitrates so much?"
"they're cheaper than day rates."
The letters are jumbled, but the messages comes across none the less. "And you know the best part? Painting puns with bacteria is legal." He winks.
Gaster considers rewriting the specifics of the Pun Tax.
It's Thursday afternoon and Sans has yet to try to outsmart him. Oh, sure, they shared a couple of jokes over breakfast, but no attempts at punnary have been made so far. Gaster pretends to stretch and spies on his assistant huddled over a few papers on his desk. He appears to be scribbling something, but he can't make out what.
Idly, he pops one, two, three of his finger joints in succession, but not even that gains Sans' attention. He supposes he should welcome the silence and begin working on the reports he set aside for occasions such as this, but there's something unsettling about it.
He's debating whether or not to invite Sans on an impromptu coffee run when the smaller skeleton suddenly stands. "I got it," he shouts, throwing his arms up in the air. He runs to the Punance jar and imitates a slam dunk as he drops in a G.
"Okay Gaster, what do you get when you mix iodine, livermorium, and uranium together?" Sans pauses long enough for Gaster to ponder over the elements and realize he has no idea. "My feelings for you!"
Gaster can't help it, he snorts. Sans beams with pride at his accomplishment. Gaster makes a symbolic representation of a heart with his hands then points at Sans.
"Aww, thanks buddy. How sweet of you. Hey, wanna know what else you can spell out with elements? Phosphorous-uranium-nitrogen-sulfur!" Excited, Sans heads back to his desk to work on new jokes. Gaster doesn't even bother reminding him to pay up.
"Huh? Gaster, did you just email me? Babe, we're not even ten feet away from each other; that was a bit unnecessary." Sans kicks his desk, propelling himself and his rolling chair away from it and towards Gaster. He's looking at his phone, scrolling through a wall of text. "You know, whenever you send out these things, you should add a tl;dr at the end for people like me. No one enjoys reading 'update to policy' messages. You should also change the font to something interesting."
He sighs and quiets down, scrolling back up so he can actually take the time the read it. Gaster leans back in his chair and stretches, waiting for him to finish.
"Wow, you really collected that much G over two weeks? That's amazing. Who knew so many jokes are made every day. Wonder what percent of that came just from me." Sans mumbles, skipping a few paragraphs. "Oh! The Punance! You're ending it?"
Gaster nods solemnly and gestures for Sans to continue reading. "So you're telling me that, statistically, the rate of puns per person per day actually increased? Which went against the whole point of the Pun Tax, which was to lower the amount of time spent goofing off. Wow, that's harsh. I like the way you act as if this was some kind of experiment instead of a policy gone wrong. Your hypothesis totally failed, you know. I guess it happens even to the best of us."
"So what are you going to do with all the money? Still intend on saving it for emergency funding?" Sans closes the email and scoots closer to his partner.
Gaster shrugs. He hasn't really had the time to ponder over it. Regardless, the collected G will be used to benefit the employees as a whole, just maybe not at the present time.
"Why not throw everyone a party?" Sans suggests, "I bet that'd make everyone happy. You could even invite the King. We could all share jokes and celebrate the fall of the Punance."
It's actually not a bad idea.
In the end, Gaster sends out another email asking his coworkers what they'd prefer the money to be spent on. He offers suggestions such as 'party,' 'save it,' and 'upgrade computers.' A few monsters request upgrading the current technology, but the majority ask to throw a party. Two offer to help with the planning, so he allows them to deal with the details and they occasionally update him on the going-ons.
All of the arraignments are ready by Sunday, so they have it that day in the lab's cafeteria. Bright, colorful streamers are hung from the ceiling and everyone is given a party hat to wear. The Nice Cream guy brings a cart load of ice cream and someone invites Shyren to the gathering, and she sings for a bit.
An hour in, Sans gets up and reads a prepared speech about tyranny and oppressive Royal Scientists that gains many laughs from the other researchers.
Not one for social gatherings, Gaster stays near the back of the room, close to one of the many exits. Just in case anything were to happen. He's at a table, fiddling with a half empty cup of punch, glancing at a nearby wall clock. When Sans finishes, he sits beside him.
"This party's a bore, you ready to head home?" Sans asks nonchalantly, inspecting his fingers. Gaster gives him a thankful smile and nods.
They sneak out the back door before anyone even notices they're leaving. The majority of lights in the building are turned off due to it not being in use, but they're familiar enough with the layout of the lab and know all the short cuts to get out of it.
Gaster isn't scared of the dark but he holds Sans' hand anyway. When they find a way out, it's nighttime in the Underground, meaning the hanging lightbulbs have dimmed.
"Well that was pleasant," Sans says. "Everyone seemed to be having fun. Who knows, you might win 'Employee of the Month' because of this." He laughs and Gaster rolls his eyes, well aware he'll never get that achievement.
"You know, at first I was a bit irritated you tried to end the Pun King's reign," Sans winks here, "but it was pretty fun trying to figure out ways to pun you without breaking the rules. This experience taught me that there's more than one way to pun a person, and that I still have much to learn." He says, his voice filled with mirth.
Sans grows silent, then he grins. "You know, Dr. Alphys' birthday is coming up in a couple of weeks. If you bake a cake for her, I can come up with an amazing anime pun to ice onto it. Sounds good to you?"
As much as Gaster would like to stay as far away from bad jokes as he can, this opportunity does peak his interests. He nods and Sans' face lights up.
"It's a plan then."