It was another day in Snowdin, and Sans was just doing his job, selling chimichangas. He was bored. Very bored. Unbelievably bored. But he couldn’t disobey his brother’s command. He didn’t want to deal with Papyrus’s wrath at the moment.

He leaned on his hand, his elbow propped up as he scowled at nothing, his fingers tapping against the table top. Sans huffed, letting his head fall down onto the table, a loud thud shaking the table.

“Damn…why’d I have to get stuck with this boring day job.” Sans grumbled, taking out a cigar and lighting it.