Sir Poops-A-Lot scurried through the halls, trying to find his way back to his bathroom, if that’s even still standing at this point. Just another routine day of surviving in this toy-hell. The brown cat had no idea how he was still alive. He passed by the rotting machinery, putting a paw over his mouth to avoid inhaling the gas fumes leaking from the vents.

“This place is as gassy as some of my jokes,” he mutters, then wheezes from laughter at his own joke.

The feline continued down the hall, tapping his cane against the concrete as he hummed to himself. He spots a figure in the distance. Now, considering the state of this factory, he should probably turn tail. Nonetheless, he approaches the person, unable to resist sharing a joke.