You look Toriel in the eyes. She doesn't care. BUT she DOES have something to say. "Heh. Welp. This exists. You are either Toby Fox, Griffpatch, or some eight to fourteen-year-old on the internet with a sense of humor and a love of UNDERTALE. That's ok. This is your new home. Psych. But you should still stay a while. Do you prefer butterscotch or cinnamon? Wait. WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH THAT MOUSE!?!? NO NO NO NONonoNONOnOnONONONONOnOnOnOnONONOonnONONONonnonONO!!!! DON'T YOU DaArE PICK ME UP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHY! SPARE ME!!!!!!!!!! WHY IS THIS POSSIBLE!?!?!? PUT ME DOWN!!! HIT THE SPACE BAR! NOOOOoOOOoooOOoW!!!! Thank you. Where was I? No, seriously, where was I? Oh, right. I was about to tell you that Papyrus told me this would happen, right after he sent me this link: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/488662980/ I feel bad for clicking it. Sorry Papyrus, not sorry. I had a blast chucking Papyrus into the eternal depths of space. That's not what you're going to do to me, right? No, you're THAT bad of a person, right? Also, I really hope that you've got sound on, to listen to my man's sweet, sweet music." Toriel SEEMS to have finished her ra- "OH!!! I almost forgot!!!!! Go check out The Stuff Bot on Youtube!!! Or, you know, don't. Like you would anyways. How long have I been ranting? Who cares! I could go on all day! HA! I CANNOT BE ST-" You change the background to space. Toriel shuts up.
I totally didn't send this to Toby Fox.
