Burgerpants and Sans and Toriel Get Stoned

Sans was heavy. Far heavier than a few bones, shorts, a sweater and a pair of sandals should weigh. The cigarette in Burgerpant's mouth bobbed with each step, sending particulates of ash careening through the air like wayward gray angels on some meandering voyage through space. Every step brought pain to his back and legs. He was used to standing all day, but not carrying anything of substantial weight up flights of stairs. But the lazy bum of a skeleton had won the rock paper scissors contest. They were gonna go to the roof and eat those fuckin pot brownies but BP had to carry the skeleton up. Every step made his knees grind wetly beneath the skin and a the cat began to pant with the effort. There was still three flights to go.

He stopped on the landing and threw up his arms, knocking the short skeleton from his back.

"I can't do it you fat fuck!"

"Hey buddy, don't be so catty. I'm just a little big-boned."

Burgerpants just turned and stared at the skeleton, his eyes huge and devoid of any humor. Sans' dark eye sockets stared right back at him, the perpetual grin filling Burgerpants with a growing bubble of exasperation and rage. But he took a long draw on his cigarette and flicked the burnt stub against the wall of the stairwell, reaching into his pocket and fetching a fresh one from his pack and lighting it, taking a deep lungfull of the calming smoke.

"I'm not gonna carry you anymore."

"I knew you'd pussy out."

Burgerpants winced and turned towards the stairs. These better be really fucking good brownies.

They emerged into the afternoon February gloom and the chill air was refreshing to the sweaty cat. Sans had set up a couple of bean bags up there at some point and he meandered over to one, plopping down with a groan, his legs quivering and throbbing. He took the cigarette from his lips and looked over expectantly at the skeleton, who was already comfortably positioned in his own beanbag. The skeleton looked over at him and reached inside his sweater, producing a bag of squished but relatively intact brownies.

BP grins at him around the cig and hold his hands up and Sans tosses them lazily over.

The chocolate confections are slightly crushed but more or less intact. He opened the bag and brought it up to his nose, taking a deep whiff of that powerful délicieuse odeur. The mix of chocolate goodness and the slightly sour bud made BP's whiskers curl forward in delight. He reached into the bag and took out one of the brownies, bit a huge chunk out of it and all but inhaled it in a single gulp. He leaned back and put the rest in the bag and set it on the roof.

"That's fucking unsanitary you dirty cat."

"Oh fuck off you bag of bones."

He sat looking up at the clouds for a while, waiting for the grass brownie to kick in. But after a while he started to doubt the authenticity of the herb. He looked over at Sans, who had at some point produced a blue bong and was now oozing thick smoke from every hole in his skull like some tacky Halloween decoration. The skeleton turned his blue eye to the cat and started giggling. Burgerpants immediately frowned. He'd take shit from his boss, Mettaton, but not some lippy fat dwarf of a skeleton. He quickly came to the conclusion that Sans had somehow fucked him over. Probably gave him bad grass or a placebo bullshit.

"Hey lemme get a hit of that."

"No you've got the brownies. Eat another one if you're worried."

"The brownies ain't working."

"Well that's not my fault. My brother made them."

Burgerpants' brow furrowed in confusion. He opened the bag again and took out the brownie he ate. He sniffed it again, like a meticulous scientist measuring some chemical chimera. In his previous excitement he must have jumped the gun. These didn't smell like weed at all. He inhaled the odor and couldn't place it. But then it hit him like Mettaton's steel fist after a customer complaint.

It wasn't grass.

It was catnip.

What sort of retard was Papyrus? BP wasn't a fucking cat. He was a monster cat man thinger from the underground! Did that skeleton expect the pet drug to have any effect on him? Ridiculous!

BP's hands began to shake in rage. He'd wasted so much fucking time and burned too many calories not to get high up here.

"Sans gimme that shit right now I swear to God I'm going to scratch your brother until he fucking dies."

"You're too much of a pussy."

That was it. BP stood up from the soft sack of beads and hurled the bag of catnip brownies at Sans. Sans dodged. It was impossible. Unnatural. All monsters knew that you're supposed to stand still when you're attacked. Sans raised his hand lazily and a brick rose into the air and floated through the air to Burgerpants, bopping him on the head sharply and flying over the edge of the building.

A few hundred feet below on the street was Toriel. She'd picked up some extra weed from Frisk and wanted to hang out with Burgerpants. She had realized early on that Papyrus, being below the level of retarded, had probably used catnip or actual grass inside the brownies. She fumbled in her purse for the keys when the brick landed, splitting into a hundred shards over the top of her skull, crushing the top with a horrible wet crunch and blasting twin streams of dust from her nostrils and buckling her whole body like a puppet cut from its strings. She collapses on the sidewalk in a boneless heap, after a few moments her clothing undulating in the breeze as the wind spreads her dust across the city.