knock knock

[ashkente]

Out in the garden, there's a barefoot seven-foot-tall skeleton in a black robe getting cozy on a bench, scythe in one hand and jokebook in the other. Really. He's flipping through it slowly with one skinless thumb, taking his time.

He feels like he has a better grasp of humanity than he ever has (but then he's always telling himself now he's finally gotten it and he's always wrong), except for humor. It just doesn't make any sense. Hard as he tries to tell jokes to those he meets, usually while on the job, nobody laughs. If he could get it right, surely it'd go a long way towards comforting those poor souls! It's for a good cause.

Which is why he'll memorize every joke written in the book or else. That's one benefit to having a perfect endless memory.



((I blame work for the way I've neglected this poor guy. Have some boney warm fuzzies.))

Comments

[trombones]

"Whoah. Where'd you find that?"

Compared to a seven-foot-skeleton in black robes, Sans probably looks goofier than usual. The short, stocky skeleton with a goofy perma-grin somehow?? happens to be just "there", next to Death on the bench.

"I've been looking for a decent joke book forever. Hey there."

[ashkente]

"Hᴇʟʟᴏ." They're skeletons. It's all about grins. Death himself always has one of his own, below his glowing blue eyelights.

"I ʙᴏʀʀᴏᴡᴇᴅ ɪᴛ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪʙʀᴀʀʏ. I ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ɪғ ɪᴛ's ᴡᴏʀᴛʜᴡʜɪʟᴇ ʏᴇᴛ. I ʜᴀᴠᴇɴ'ᴛ ʟᴀᴜɢʜᴇᴅ. Pᴇʀʜᴀᴘs sᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ ᴇʟsᴇ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ?" Granted, he never laughs. He'll have to find someone to read to and see if they laugh before he decides it's a good joke book.

[trombones]

That's as good an invitation as any. Sans crosses over and plops himself on the bench next to him.

"Lay 'em on me. I got a pretty good funny bone."

WINK!!

[ashkente]

He doesn't realize that in itself is a joke, thus proving he's hopeless. Poor fellow.

Turning back a page and clearing his throat (or making a sound like he is--for goodness' sake, he has no throat), Death reads. "Hᴏᴡ ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅʀᴏᴡɴ ɪɴ ᴍɪʟᴋ? Wʜᴇɴ ɪᴛ's ᴘᴀsᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴇʏᴇs."

A hopeful glance sideways. Ha ha?

[trombones]

Oh, goodness.

Sans near-immediately despite not having a nose, which tumbles out into laughter. It's a long, deep chuckle that matches his voice, but it's obvious that the joke hit.

"Man. That's good. Okay, okay. Here, I got one. Why did the cow cross the road?"

Pause for effect. He shrugs both arms up.

"To get to the udder side."

[ashkente]

Sans is much better at this than Death is. He can't even laugh properly: "Uᴅᴅᴇʀ... ᴀʜ, ᴄᴏᴡs. Hᴀ Hᴀ." He means well and doesn't want to be creepy at all, but... It's hard not to with a voice like the grave.

He thinks for a moment, hmm, animals... "Wʜʏ ᴅᴏᴇsɴ'ᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʀᴀʙ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴄʜᴀʀɪᴛʏ? Bᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ʜᴇ's sʜᴇʟʟғɪsʜ." See! Isn't this nice! They'll be the best of friends any moment now.

[trombones]

Sans snorts again. Oh man. This guy is good.

"Oh man. You're good at this."

Whoah, deja vu.

[ashkente]

Low standards. He's never heard that before in all his millennia. "Aᴍ I? Pᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴜsᴜᴀʟʟʏ ʟᴀᴜɢʜ. Sʜᴀʟʟ I ɢᴏ ᴏɴ?"

[trombones]

"Then they got bad taste. I mean, the actually bad kind. Because I'm an expert with bad jokes, trust me. I do stand-up."

Sans is the bottom of the barrel when it comes to low standards, but he also loves bad jokes in general. So don't worry. You're good, pal. The smaller skeleton leans against the bench and peers over the book.

"Yeah. Keep 'em coming, dude. These are great."

jfc so late I'm sorry

[ashkente]

"I'ʟʟ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ғᴏʀ ɪᴛ."

"Wʜᴀᴛ ɢᴇᴛs ᴡᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ɪᴛ ᴅʀɪᴇs? A ᴛᴏᴡᴇʟ." He's not flexible in the face the way the monster sort of skeletons are, so he's not really squinting at the book, but... "Tʜᴀᴛ's ɴᴏᴛ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴀ ᴊᴏᴋᴇ. Tʜᴀᴛ's ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴏғ ᴀ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ. I ᴛʜɪɴᴋ."

no problem!

[trombones]

"Huh."

Sans scratches his chin.

"I mean, that;s pretty good. But you're right. It sounds more like a riddle. Kind of like that thing about creatures that walk on four legs, then two legs, then five. ...Or was it three? I dunno. You ever heard that one?"

[itstheend]

Sometimes. Often. Chara doesn't want to deal with things anymore. And after the past month, that's definitely a sentiment they have. That's when Frisk is allowed (allowed, because they threw away all right to assume ages ago) to run the show for a while while their friend 'sleeps'.

Frisk doesn't mind at all. They still catch themself trying to go through objects, though, whispering apologies for every smacked elbow and accidental wall run. There's usually no response.

It's good to feel things for themself. They're wandering around the garden enjoying sunlight on skin (it felt different as a ghost, though they're going to have to be careful because Chara burns so much easier than they're used to), and spot the skeleton, excitedly mentally elbowing their mind-mate.

Ugh, another one? and then a rolling over. Dismissed.

A child in a green and yellow sweater walks up to the new skeleton monster and waves, pointing at the joke book.

"Any really good ones?"

[ashkente]

Aww, small child. Children are always nice. He's not as awkward around them as he used to be. Granted, they're not as pleasant as cats...

"I'ᴍ ɴᴏᴛ sᴜʀᴇ. Wʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜ sᴀʏ ɪs ᴀ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴊᴏᴋᴇ? Oɴᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴀᴋᴇs ʏᴏᴜ ʟᴀᴜɢʜ?"

His voice is hollow and eerie, sounding like doom, however friendly he's trying to be. It can't be helped. He's Death.

[itstheend]

Frisk puts a finger to Chara's chin. This is a question that needs the proper deliberation. The voice reminds them of Sans when he's being serious in a way that makes them uncomfortable, but maybe he can't help how his voice is. They try to listen to what he actually says, instead.

"Sometimes it's the really bad jokes that make people laugh." There's nothing like a terrible pun to bring people together in mutual agony, Frisk's found. They love that Chara's good at them. With an absolutely perfectly deadpan expression, they tell a little story.

"My mom really likes jokes. She kept accidentally telling them and then expecting them to make us laugh when she realised, but no pun in ten did."

There's a long groan from the back of the mindspace. Score.

[ashkente]

Poor Frisk, trying so hard and getting no reaction from the skeleton on the bench. No groan, no laugh. Odd for someone reading a joke book. Of course, all he heard was 'no pun intended' and it flies so far over his head it might as well be on the moon.

Silence. He waits for Frisk to go on and... they do not. How peculiar.

"Nᴏ ᴘᴜɴ ɪɴ ᴛᴇɴ ᴅɪᴅ... Oʜ. I sᴇᴇ. Nᴏ ᴏɴᴇ sᴇᴇᴍs ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴀᴍᴜsᴇᴅ ᴡʜᴇɴ I ᴛʀʏ ᴀ ᴘᴜɴ ᴏᴜᴛ."

Should he have laughed? Has he just been rude? For shame. Too late now...

[itstheend]

Frisk deflates a little, puffing their cheeks out with a huff. The snickering from the back of the mindscape isn't helping either.

"I mean. Um."

There's nothing like explaining a joke to kill it. Did he not get it or did he not realise they'd even made one? Maybe it's best to just move forward here.

"That's a shame. Can I hear one?"

They're genuinely sympathetic, and eager.

[ashkente]

Now he's gone and disappointed the child. How awkward. This is so confusing. But he will not give up! Someday, he'll figure out the secret!

"Oғ ᴄᴏᴜʀsᴇ." He turns a page, reading a new joke off. "Hᴏᴡ ᴍᴀɴʏ ᴀᴘᴘʟᴇs ɢʀᴏᴡ ᴏɴ ᴀ ᴛʀᴇᴇ? Aʟʟ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇᴍ."

[itstheend]

"Hee!"

That's a pretty good one. His reading's a bit stiff, but in a way that kind of delivery just makes it funnier.

"How about... Um." Shoot. Most of the puns they know are in bad pickup lines. The guy seems to have enough trouble with the pun part without throwing in the power of the *Flirt option, too. Help them out here, Chara?

Stop trying to make me socialise by proxy.

The line of Frisk-Chara's mouth tilts a little towards ': /', but they guess they can't make them.

Damn skippy.

"D'you have any more?" they say to Death hopefully, even with Chara grumbling that the joke book is right there, of course he does.

[ashkente]

He's reading while they think, calmly. Not that anyone could tell easily if he was annoyed, most likely. No frowns, only smiles and grins.

"Wʜʏ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ɴᴏsᴇ ᴛᴡᴇʟᴠᴇ ɪɴᴄʜᴇs ʟᴏɴɢ? Bᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ᴛʜᴇɴ ɪᴛ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴇ ᴀ ғᴏᴏᴛ. ... I ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ʟᴏᴀɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴏᴏᴋ ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ'ᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ."

He'd rather not though. It's kind of nice, reading to a child again. Nostalgic.

[itstheend]

Chara has a smile for every occasion, including annoyance and anger, but Death is even harder to read than that.

"I think it's better hearing you tell them."

There's a difference between reading something and being read something, after all. They settle down on the grass, lying on their stomach with their arms folded and their feet sticking up. See? They're being attentive!

It's nice, the sunlight, and the grass flattened under them, and the slight breeze.

AAAAAA THIS IS A MONTH OLD

[ashkente]

"I'ᴍ ɢʟᴀᴅ. Mʏ ɢʀᴀɴᴅᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ ɪs ғᴀʀ ᴛᴏᴏ ᴏʟᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴛᴏ. Wʜᴀᴛ ᴅɪᴅ ᴏɴᴇ ᴡᴀʟʟ sᴀʏ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴀʟʟ? ... I'ʟʟ ᴍᴇᴇᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏʀɴᴇʀ."

The jokes probably aren't going to get any better. He's probably not going to laugh. It'll be the same hollow serious voice, joke after joke. Well. At least the child might laugh, and it's a nice sunny day!

NO WORRIES FRIENDO I BACKTAG FOREVER

[itstheend]

That catches Frisk's interest. "You have a granddaughter? What's she like?" They do genuinely want to know, but also they love hearing people speak of their family with fondness.

They laugh at the joke, too, a quiet huffing.

I'll meet you at the corner, it said. Go forth.

Frisk beams, propping Chara's head up on their elbows.

STILL OLD, STILL CUTE, WHATEVER I'M DOING IT!!!

[ashkente]

"Yᴇs. Hᴇʀ ɴᴀᴍᴇ ɪs Sᴜsᴀɴ. Sʜᴇ's ᴀ sᴄʜᴏᴏʟᴛᴇᴀᴄʜᴇʀ. A ɢᴏᴏᴅ, sᴇɴsɪʙʟᴇ ᴏɴᴇ, I ᴛʜɪɴᴋ." Both the kids and their parents seem to love her--but that's about all he knows about her work. He tries to stay out of her life, see ...

"I ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ᴘɪᴄᴛᴜʀᴇ."

YAAAAS

[itstheend]

It's clear he's fond of her, although the tone of the 'I think' does them having a brief enquiring look. They get distracted by the prospect of photos.

[Can I see?]

They want to see what she looks like, now. A teacher? Sounds like she'd get along with their mom.

[ashkente]

"Oғ ᴄᴏᴜʀsᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ." There must be a pocket inside his robe, surely, because he's taking the photograph out from somewhere in there. It really is a photo, Imp-made, of a stern-looking human woman without a smile. (Unlike him, always grinning!)

[itstheend]

Frisk peers at it, looking pleased. Others might wonder why a skeleton has a human granddaughter but for Frisk the answer is obvious - adoption. They look up from the photo to beam.

[She's got cool hair. What's she like about schoolteaching? ]

That is to say, what does she enjoy regarding it more than how she does it, although they wouldn't say no to knowing that too. A human being family with monsters is near and dear to their heart - of course they're curious.

Chara, on the other hand, just approves of her apparent choice in weaponry. That stick looks like it could really bludgeon something.

[ashkente]

Look all you want. He'll even allow you to hold the photo, Frisk. He has more copies, of course. Just in case one gets lost.

"Tʜᴇ ᴄʜɪʟᴅʀᴇɴ. Sʜᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇs ᴛᴇᴀᴄʜɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇᴍ sᴇɴsɪʙʟᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢs, ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ sᴜʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ʟᴇᴀʀɴɪɴɢ ᴡᴇʟʟ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʀᴇ ɪɴ ʜᴇʀ ᴄʟᴀss. Tʜᴇʏ ᴜsᴜᴀʟʟʏ ᴅᴏ. Tʜᴇʏ ᴄᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴʟʏ ʟᴇᴀʀɴ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀɴʏᴏɴᴇ ᴇʟsᴇ."

Partly because she's a natural at getting children to be interested in things and partly because she cheats a little. Nobody can blame her for that. If you've got it...

[itstheend]

They don't want to take the photo in case it is his only copy and they smudge it or tear it or something by accident. So they look, and then nod and look back up at Death's skull.

"She sounds like my mom," they blurt. "She likes teaching too. She made it really interesting."

She's certainly the best teacher, and the best mom, they'd ever had. That does, according to basic math, make her double best.

(What kid wouldn't love being taught by goth Ms. Frizzle?)