Work Text:
It was a slow work day. Our hero, the pimply-faced, yet nappy furred Burgerpants was mopping the messy floors outside his station. He was to close up shop for the evening. Now, our young hero here loved closing time because that means as soon as the key locked the front door, he no longer has to take orders from that sentient jukebox. He loathed that absolute madman as much as he loathed his existence. Neither the less, he was determined to get the fuck out of dodge as his cleaning pace quickens.
The ever haunting motors that works the door whirls, flooding the dining area with its horrid sound. The unhappy teen’s ear perks up. “Oh shit,” He cursed under his breath to his mop, as if it understands his pain. “Customers.” Burgerpants’s head turns slightly to look behind him at the monster who dares to interrupt his quick, half-ass mopping job. His right eye twitches menacingly at the sight. A jovial, obese, and very purple cat monster waddles in. Her monstrous stomach jiggles at each jerking movement. That permanently painted on smile. He knew she is nothing but trouble.
“Hiiiiiiii there Burgerpants!” She chuckles, approaching the counter. Burgerpants laughs weakly in response, dropping his mop on the ground with a monotone ‘splat’. He skitters to get behind the counter and to front of the cash register. When he’s in position, Burgerpants manages to give his best false grin. In his mind, he only wish he died on the spot. Or have a cigarette. One or the other.
“Hello ma’am,” He began with a falsetto, speaking with his teeth closed. “And welcome to MTT -Brand Burger Empori—“
“You don’t remember me?! It’s, like, me! Catty! Remember the, like, romantic burger dinner in the back alley?” Catty tried her best to stiffen a laugh, rolling her eyes back in amusement.
Burgerpants drops the formalities and returns to his natural state: slouched and caustic about life. “What do you want and where’s the Bratty one.”
“Well, Bratty is, like, getting things prepped up! For the party!! And, like, you’re invited!” The chubby cat replied, digging in her backpack. She pulls out a small flyer and slides it over the counter. Burgerpants looks down at the cheery looking piece of paper, which looks like it was written on the back of a recycled paper bag.
LIKE, ITS OUR BIRTHDAY!
AND LIKE, YOU’RE INVITED!
THIS SATURDAY!
BRATTY AND CATTY’S 18TH BIRTHDAY BONANZA!
Poking at it cautiously before determining that it’s not going to attack him, Burgerpants’s pupils dilates from the overstimulation going on in his mind. His shaken hands picks up the invitation and holds onto it in a death grip. His breath quickens. “A party? Not thrown here? An actual, fun, I-don’t-gotta-work party?”
The purple cat gleams and giggles. “See you there, B.P.!”
As Catty blows a kiss, she sashays out the door. Burgerpants leans against the wall, completely fixated on the invitation. He scrutinizes the document like a miser scrutinizing tax papers. His lips curls upwards in…bliss? Awkward neuroticism? Maybe the hormonal mixture of the two? It didn’t matter. THE Sheldon, AKA “Burgerpants”, is going to a party with two babes there!
But his mind started to wander to the shadowy area he dreads: This is a ploy. A trap. An attempt by two teenage gold diggers to take whatever dignity he has as a nineteen year old and shatter it in front of the whole Capital. His dad warned him about these types of dames. His words echoes in his head as Burgerpants puts his hands on top of his ears in an attempt to stifle his thoughts:
“Boy, listen to me, and listen to me closely. Women? Nothing but whores. Don’t trust them son. Are you listening to me? Are you listening to me?”
"Are you listening to me…
Are you listening…
…"
“Are you listening to me?! These floors are atrocious. You haven’t even polish the statue of me near the MTT-Brand Ballpit.”
Burgerpants jumps with a screech, A metallic grey box hovering over the puny lowly hourly part-time worker.
“Sorry, Darling, I’m just not paying you to daydream. Get back to closing up. I want to see my beautiful screen shining off the floors.”
“O-oh-ohkay, Mettaton…” Burgerpants scrambles up onto his knobby knees and gets back to work.