In case you were wondering, Temmies and hard stimulants (the sand crystal fumes possessed a noticeable kick) do not a calm and controlled environment make.
"temmIE no feel so good," one said before a surge of vomit spewed forth. Another experimented with using Temmie Flakes in place of the crystals and after one whiff of the resulting pink clouds of smoke she became unwilling to share the pipe with the next Temmie in line, so they all started chasing her.
"I hope you're happy," Bob said to Knuckles, who was shirtless and gargling the murky and likely parasite infested waters streaming down from one of the Waterfall region's famous waterfalls. "Your smoke machine ruined our picnic." She watched a cherry Bisickle melt in the sand with a deep sense of longing and a tinge of righteous fury.
Knuckles spat out a mouthful of the polluted water, realizing his mistake via something sizable and crunchy getting caught between two of his teeth. "Why don't you talk the same way the other mutated cat things do?"
"English major at Underground U," Bob replied, sticking her nose up proudly whilst perched atop a craggy rock that let her loom taller than the souped up enchilada by a decisive bit. "Straight-As, at the top of my class, with full honors."
Knuckles smirked like a greasy drug dealer. "And yet you still live in a subterranean cave?"
"Color me impressed that there's a five syllable word in your vocabulary, but I'm guessing you're not from around these parts."
As the other Temmies closed in on the one that was fiendishly bogarding their shit, Bob tore Knuckles away from adoring his own dripping wet pectoral muscles long enough to give him a crash course in monster history. Once upon a time, she explained, monsters and humans lived as one on the surface. Then one day, "for whatever reason," seven powerful sorcerers sealed all of monster kind underground with a magic barrier through which anyone could enter but none could leave; with special emphasis on the none could leave part, but Knuckles remained seemingly oblivious to the severity of his own predicament.
"I don't know what you're supposed to be, though," she said of Knuckles with a concerned look, as he whipped his cornrow braids back and forth in the flow of the waterfall.
"The name's Knuckles for starters, babe." The crack pipe rolled away from the scuffle between the Temmies and he picked it up before they could notice. "If you and your college degree can lend me a hand in finding someone, I promise you'll never see my sorry hide around your picnics ever again."
Bob rolled her eyes. "Call me Bob. Try not to annoy me and I'll see what I can do to help."
"You're the boss, Bob. Is that short for Bobita or something?"
Bob groaned, already liking what Sonic Boom did to Knuckles's character about as much as I do. Seriously, it's impossible for someone to be that stupid unless they have a legit mental condition...which, well...now I find myself completely rethinking Knuckles.
Meanwhile, Burgerpants was on his third round of buffing the banana to the lovely female co-hosts of the Mettaton Morning variety show, with an old classic thin and crispy drooping from his drooling mouth, when he was startled by an urgent knock at the door of his posh hotel room.