[You would think Chara would know not to trust the door to their own room.
You would think.
But there's the sound of furious screeching echoing full down the second-floor hall, and today Chara sort of looks like a very strange, angry smurf from head to mid-torso or so. It's not the kind of dye that rinses off effortlessly with a little water, is it? Of course it isn't. They're blue now. This is a special kind of purgatory.]
[Thus begins an unnecessarily elaborate plan, fraught with repeated requests to the closet for something inanely specific: a very tiny little speaker. A crappy tinny little thing, like you'd get in one of those birthday cards that plays music. Except this one is so unbelievably crappy that all it can do is play a very high-pitched but not especially loud ringing beep at sporadic intervals. Like tinnitus.mid, if such a concept could be made real. Anyway, the point is this: it's vague enough to be hard to pinpoint, but annoying.
This is sewn into the inside of a generic, plain white sock.
The sock is carefully flopped onto the end of a telescoping radio antenna -- any very thin, long stick-like thing would do.
Then this absurd blueberry lies flat on the floor outside Sans' door, meticulously and carefully poking this sock under the door with said antenna, and nudging and pushing and stretching as best as they can for Entirely Too Long until it juuuuust so happens to catch the very edge of the trash tornado.
4/11, stuck to his door with a knife (with a blue handprint on the handle)
You would think.
But there's the sound of furious screeching echoing full down the second-floor hall, and today Chara sort of looks like a very strange, angry smurf from head to mid-torso or so. It's not the kind of dye that rinses off effortlessly with a little water, is it? Of course it isn't. They're blue now. This is a special kind of purgatory.]
[Thus begins an unnecessarily elaborate plan, fraught with repeated requests to the closet for something inanely specific: a very tiny little speaker. A crappy tinny little thing, like you'd get in one of those birthday cards that plays music. Except this one is so unbelievably crappy that all it can do is play a very high-pitched but not especially loud ringing beep at sporadic intervals. Like tinnitus.mid, if such a concept could be made real. Anyway, the point is this: it's vague enough to be hard to pinpoint, but annoying.
This is sewn into the inside of a generic, plain white sock.
The sock is carefully flopped onto the end of a telescoping radio antenna -- any very thin, long stick-like thing would do.
Then this absurd blueberry lies flat on the floor outside Sans' door, meticulously and carefully poking this sock under the door with said antenna, and nudging and pushing and stretching as best as they can for Entirely Too Long until it juuuuust so happens to catch the very edge of the trash tornado.
GOOD LUCK FINDING THAT BEEPING NOISE, CHUM.]