GOOOOOOD MORNING/DAY/AFTERNOON/EVENING, DARLINGS! I HOPE YOU ARE HAVING A WONDERFUL ONE, NO MATTER WHAT TIME OF THE DAY IT IS! I AM SO-

*Pushes out MTT*

Eh, hey. Amisia here. Welcome to the 21st chapter.

Sorry for a day's wait. Other things were on my mind.

Uh.

Well, enjoy the chapter!

As I promised, the narrator is Sans. The last, tiny narration is probably not very hard to guess who is, so I don't have to tell you that.

See you ↓

The kind of rough wood is itching against my skull, underneath my head. I can almost make out the seperate splinters in the sentry post-top, because it's too close to my eye-sockets. My head is tilted, resting right between my outstretched arms. Is this a comfortable position?

Nah.

Do I care?

Nah.

I yawn lazily, but stay in the exact same position. It's comfortable enough for me. Well, everything is comfortable enough for me. I can nap just about everywhere, and that's exactly what I've just just done. I woke up just before the chapter started, tibia honest. Huh, what's that? Not used to fourth wall-breaking? Hehe, get used to it, kiddo.

I scratch my frontal bone, and let my arm fall carelessly back into place. I yawn again. A single snowflake descends slowly – ever. so. slowly. It lands on top of my non-existent nose. I attempt to cross my eyes to look at it, but very soon decide it isn't worth the inconvenience.

How can it snow underground, anyways?

Nobody knows.

Welp, I lied. I know how, but I'm a skeleton of mercy. I'm sparing you from a long, scientific, and possibly also pretty boring explanation. And I don't believe you would actually understand it either way, so I won't bother. I yawn again.

Right next to my head lies an open car magazine, which I was reading just before falling asleep (maybe it's even the reason why I fell asleep?). For the sake of Papyrus, of course. He wants a car almost half as much as he wants to catch a human. In the case of my bro, that says a lot.

If we ever make it to the Surface, I'll be buying him a car. That's why I have so uncomfortably many job (that I actually don't do much working on those jobs is not important). To pay for my brothers happiness. Fortunately, the entire UNDERGROUND adores Papyrus, so my bosses try not to care about my lack of … You know, actually doing my job.

While still having my head lying on the sentry post table-top, I lazily lift my hand a little. I shake it to get my hoodie sleeve to uncover my wrist watch. Even though the clock face doesn't have any actual numbers on it, it still tells time perfectly. Instead of numbers are stupid little notes such as "NT" (Nap Time), "NT" (Nap Time), "NT" (Nap Time), "PT" (Pun Time), "PCT" (Papyrus is Cool, right? Time), "BT" (Bed Time), "NT" (Nap Time), "BT" (Bad Time), "JT" (Joke Time), "BT" (Bath Time), "GT" (Grillby's Time), and one more "NT". The time right now, though, is most definitely "DT" (Door Time), although the clock says that it's half past "NT". I let my hand fall back into its place.

Welp, if it's Door Time, I should get going. I stretch, lift my head, and have a snowflake flying right into my eye-socket. I shake my head in discomfort. That isn't a pleasant feeling at all! The poor snowflake ends its life as a drop of water, as it instantly melts on my white pupil. Those are apparently pretty warm.

Attempt #2

I lift my head again (this time, without getting hit by any highly dangerous snowflakes) and force my tired bones up into a more self-contained position. I stretch my arms on the table and scratch my skull again. I reach under the sentry post, and grab a bottle of ketchup. I put it to my mouth and drink from it like a little baby bone. It pretty much has a similar effect on me as a baby bottle, so that's actually pretty appropriate wording. I put the empty bottle in the tiny, overloaded trashcan under my station.

Ok, so now I just have to get up – one way or another. I don't really feel like standing right now, though. Heh, I guess a short-cut would do beautifully here.

I lean my entire weight into the short-cut underneath my sentry station, and – after a brief moment of nothing – I find myself sitting right outside the giant knock-knock door. I wonder if the lady will be there to hear my knocking today? … But … why do I have the feeling that I suddenly know her name? She never told me her name? The long-forgotten dream I had this "morning" is aching in my head.

… Toriel?

Is her name Toriel?

Why do I know this?

… I'll have to check my timeline readings once I get home to the workshop.

Right now, though: Let's knock that door out. I stretch my fingers before clenching one hand neatly into a fist, before placing two consecutive knocks on the giant door. I can immediately hear footsteps on the other side. Running footsteps. My incessant smile is genuine as I make myself comfortable in the snow. That was quick. I close my eyes, and run my opening knock-knock joke through in my head. The silent footsteps stop right before the door, and I can hear someone take a deep breath.

"Who's there?" Her voice is smiling. But I freeze instantly. It's not her! It's not that one familiar voice. Where's that lady I usually talk to? I thought she lived alone?

I decide to end my joke before asking the strange girl.

"boo."

The girl is chuckling already. I guess I've found myself another joke-lover. That's nice.

"Boo who?"

I open my eyes and make my voice fake-concerned and a little annoyed, as I burst out:

"aww, jeeze, kid. don't cry, it's just a knock-knock joke!"

The girl is far from crying, though. She's laughing. I relax a little.

Likes bad jokes: check.

Ok, but now for the burning questio-

I hear a knock on the door.

I lift a non-existent eyebrow, and respond, though a little cautiously:

"who's there?"

"Edge." I know this one. I play along, nontheless. A good comedian never turns another comedian down. Also, who am I to complain about knowing a joke beforehand? After all, I know a lot of jokes. Bad and good ones alike.

"edge who?" I say, casually.

"Oh, bless you!" She says, a giant smile clear in her voice. I laugh. It isn't hard to make myself do it. Regardless of having heard the joke or not, it's a classic and it's always good.

"hehe, the good old classic. it's always funny."

The girl suddenly starts laughing.

Hehe, well, I can respect a person who laughs at their own jokes. Her laugh is like a beading. How old is she? A tenager? That's my guess. Also a pretty vague guess, because you're a teenager for quite some years, after all.

I let her finish laughing.

"heh. hey, kid, who are you? you're an unfamiliar voice"

"Oh, sorry for answering the door for Toriel. She doesn't know that I'm doing it, so – eh – don't tell her, okay?" Huh. Her name is Toriel.

"are you dodging my question on purpose?"

"I'm just some random girl who likes to answer the door in other people's homes. Who are you?" She is dodging my question on purpose. Heh. I can play that game, too.

"i'm just some random guy who likes to knock on big random doors in the woods and tell bad knock knock jokes. nice to meet you, some random girl who likes to answer the door in other people's homes."

"Nice to meet you, too." Although I can still hear the smile in her voice, I can sense that she's getting nervous. Why?

"what's the matter, random girl who likes to answer other people's doors?"

She's suddenly rushing her words, and the nervousness is all the more clear in her voice.

"I have to go now. See you later, random guy!" And then, she runs away.

And I'm sitting here in silence.

Wondering what the hell just happened.

Who is that random girl?

Where is the lady … Toriel?

I suddenly hear a muffled voice from the other side of the door. It's far away. Maybe that's why it's muffled. Or rather, it's two voices. I can't make out the words from their conversation, but eventually, one pair of footsteps approach the door.

I can't even.

I just.

Spoke.

To.

Sans.

I have an alternate version of Amisia's knock-knock joke, that she WANTED to say, but decided against:

"Knock knock"

"who's there?"

"Edge."

"edge who?"

"Oh, I didn't know skeletons could sneeze!"

... You know. She decided against it for ... obvious reasons. (Note: the "obvious reason" is, that Amisia has no way of knowing that Sans is a skeleton beforehand)

Hehe, anyway ...

UNTIL NEXT TIME, DARLINGS!™