Chapter Seven: Mysteries Aren't the Same as Secrets

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"watcha' got there little bro?" asked Sans. His baby brother was sitting on the floor covered in spaghetti sauce and noodles.

Papyrus stuffed some in his mouth. "Sgetti. I likes it good."

"did you..fix that?"

It wouldn't be the first time his brother had done something weird.

"No, I's just a baby. I can't work da' stove..."

"there's no one else awake right now pappy-"

"I DIDN'T DO NOTHIN'!" The baby bones angrily kicked his feet and waved his arms around.

"then who cooked the spaghetti pappy? who did that?" Sans squat down and smiled at his brother, picking a noodle off his head.

"Santa cooked it for me."

"santa huh?"

Really bro?

"Yep! He real nice. You can'ts see him when you's awake."

"You know it's nowhere near present day right?"

"He visits da' baby from time to time. We talks about da' politics and he cook me food."

Pfft!

"santa talks to you about politics?" Sans struggled not to laugh, picturing Santa and his brother sitting in his highchair debating over cups of coffee.

"Yeah...we gots different views dough."

"is that right?"

Papyrus nodded. "He want to be king cause' it be easier to give prezzies to all da' babies if he already lives underground. Life is hard for Santa big Buther..."

"santa wants to be king just to make his job easier? that seems a little selfish don't ya' think?"

"I do's! I say you gots to help erybody in da' underground, but he say no. He want the slave babies to take care of erything," said Papyrus looking disgusted.

"'slave babies?' you mean the elves?"

"Yep, he take the bad babies and makes em' build toys for da' good babies till they die. They don't gets to pay with the toys."

"that sounds like a sweat shop."

Where the hell did he hear this?!

"Is a freeze shop, cause' they don't gets no warm clothes. They gots to wear tights and no gloves. Is weal sad."

"heh heh ha ha! santa sounds like a jerk pap!"

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