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People often say that the most extraordinary events typically happen under very normal circumstances. A regular, run-of-the-mill day can easily turn in the most memorable day in history, given the chance. Individuals may or may not understand the significant until everything is over. Grillby certainly didn’t think that anything astonishing would happen at his restaurant. The flame monster opened the doors on schedule, greeted his customers from behind the bar and carried on, business as usual.
Until Sans showed up with a burlap sack.
Grillby, accustomed to the skeleton’s sense of humor, believed that the bag would be used as some sort of prop or set-up to a pun. He didn’t think much of it, really. The bartender gave a silent nod to Sans as he entered the establishment.
“Hey Grillby,” Sans greeted, shaking the snow off his pink slippers. He padded across the wooden floor and took his seat in his usual spot. He placed the lumpy bag on the stool beside him. Grillby was already on route to serve the skeleton a bottle of ketchup. He picked up a fresh bottle from underneath the bar and slid it over to Sans. This time, however, Sans slid the bottle right back.
“Oh, nothing today,” Sans said. “Just wanted to take care of something real quick.” Although Sans always seemed to be perpetually grinning, something about his smile made Grillby a little uneasy. The flame monster put the ketchup away and returned to cleaning glass ware. His attention was still on Sans, however. The skeleton rarely ever turned down ketchup or cut his visits to the restaurant short. The combination of the two put the bartender on edge. Was there something going on with Papyrus? Or Frisk? Perhaps it had something to do with that bag he brought with him.
Sans leaned onto the countertop, his head propped up with his right hand. He said the words that Grillby never thought he would hear coming out of Sans’ ever-smiling mouth.
“I’m here to pay my tab.”
There was a collective gasp amongst the other patrons. Every single conversation stopped and every eye and ear was turned to the lone skeleton on the barstool. It was like time had frozen. Grillby halted his actions completely and almost dropped the damn glass if it wasn’t for the clad iron grip he had on the thing. All he did was stare.
“What?” Grillby asked, temporarily losing his articulate tongue. Sans chuckled at his companion’s flabbergasted state.
“I’m here to pay my tab,” he repeated, holding the sack up in the air. “Take it.”
Grillby inspected the object as if it possibly be some hologram or part of some strange hallucination he was having. He lowered the glass cup onto the table and reached for the bag tentatively, equal parts hopeful and confused. Would it disappear if he touched it? His fiery hand finally took hold of the bag, feeling the rough texture of the cloth. A shock of excitement rushed through his body. It was real, the bag was real. Sans stuffed his hands back into his pockets and reclined in his seat.
“That should be enough,” Sans said casually. Grillby couldn’t understand how Sans could be so calm in such strange circumstances. Alarm bells sounded in the bartender’s mind. Something wasn’t right. He kept his excitement at bay for the time being. Slowly, Grillby opened the sack, feeling of anticipation squeezing his chest. He had to know, did Sans really, truly decide to pay him back?
It was full of pinecones.
Large, chubby, egg-shaped pinecones.
“Welp, that’s it then.” Sans patted the countertop and slid off his seat. “Don’t mean to leave you holding the bag-”
There it was.
“-but I couldn’t exactly check this kind of baggage at the door, you know?”
He should’ve known better.
“It’s time for me to hit the sack anyways. See you around!”
Grillby watched the door close behind Sans, silent. The other guests kept their wide eyes trained on the fire monster, wondering what would happen next. Grillby took a deep breath, turned on his heel and disappeared to the backroom.