If Kevin Hart was in undertale

Kevin Hart didn’t usually wake up with frost on his eyelashes. In his experience, waking up involved high-thread-count sheets, the faint scent of expensive cologne, and the distant sound of Los Angeles traffic. This was different. This was cold. This was “I’m about to lose a toe” cold.

He bolted upright, his hands flying to his chest as he took in his surroundings. He wasn't in his bedroom. He wasn't even in a building. He was sitting in a pile of powdery white snow, surrounded by towering, spindly pine trees that looked like they belonged on a Christmas card designed by Tim Burton.

"Okay, okay," Kevin muttered, scrambling to his feet and brushing the snow off his designer joggers. "Very funny. Dwayne? If you’re behind this, I swear to God, I’m going to buy all the gyms in a fifty-mile radius and turn them into bakeries. I will ruin your physique, man! Come out!"

Silence greeted him, save for the whistling wind through the trees. Kevin did a slow 360-degree turn. There was a weirdly sturdy-looking wooden bridge behind him and a path leading into the white abyss ahead. Everything felt off. The colors were too vibrant, the air felt thick with something that wasn't just oxygen, and the silence was way too loud.

He started walking, his sneakers crunching rhythmically in the snow. "This is a prank. It’s a high-budget prank. Maybe Netflix is doing a survival show? 'Kevin Hart: The Man Who Froze in a Designer Hoodie.' I can see the billboard now."

He reached a point where a large, fallen branch lay across the path. He stepped over it, but as he moved forward, a loud *crack* echoed through the woods. He spun around. The branch was snapped clean in half.

"Nope. No, thank you. I’ve seen this movie. The black guy always goes first, and I am far too successful to be the opening credits casualty," he whispered, picking up his pace.

He reached a gate that looked like it was made of toothpicks—or maybe it was just a very poorly designed fence. He stopped. Behind him, the sound of footsteps crunched in the snow. Heavy, deliberate footsteps.

"Human," a deep, gravelly voice echoed from the shadows behind him. "Don't you know how to greet a new pal? Turn around and shake my hand."

Kevin froze. His heart was drumming a frantic rhythm against his ribs. He slowly turned his head, his eyes wide. Standing there was a figure shrouded in shadow, his hand extended.

Kevin took a deep breath, his comedic instincts kicking in as a defense mechanism. He turned fully, looking the figure up and down. It was a skeleton. A short, stout skeleton wearing a blue hoodie, black shorts, and—were those pink slippers?

Kevin stared for a beat, then let out a sharp, high-pitched bark of a laugh.

"Oh, y’all got me! You really got me!" Kevin shouted, pointing a finger at the skeleton. "Who is in the suit? Is that you, Kenan? This is some top-tier animatronics, man. The teeth don't even move! That’s commitment to the bit!"

The skeleton tilted his head, his permanent grin widening just a fraction. "uh. i'm sans. sans the skeleton."

"Sans? Like the font?" Kevin leaned in, squinting at the skeleton’s face. "That’s hilarious. You’re a literal font of information, huh? I like that. But seriously, where are the cameras? Is there a drone? I know there’s a drone."

Kevin reached out and gripped the skeleton’s hand to shake it. Immediately, a loud, wet, flatulent noise erupted from their joined palms.

Kevin stopped. He looked at their hands, then back at Sans. He let out a wheezing laugh, doubling over and slapping his knee.

"A whoopee cushion? Really? In the middle of the arctic tundra, you hit me with the oldest trick in the book?" Kevin wiped a tear from his eye. "Man, you are a legend. You’re like the Chris Rock of the underworld. That was a solid delivery. Timing was impeccable."

Sans chuckled, a low, rattling sound that seemed to vibrate in his ribcage. "heh. the old whoopee cushion in the hand trick. it's 'tibia' honest, it never gets old."

Kevin froze, his face going deadpan. He stared at the skeleton for three long seconds. "Did you just... did you just hit me with a bone pun? You really went there? You’re a skeleton and you’re making 'tibia' jokes? That’s low, man. That’s beneath you. You’re better than that. I’m the king of comedy, you can’t just come at me with puns from a third-grade joke book."

"sorry," Sans said, his eye sockets crinkling. "i guess i just have a 'funny bone.'"

Kevin groaned loudly, throwing his hands up. "Stop it! You're killing me! And not in the good way! If I hear one more bone pun, I’m going to lose my mind. I’m already in Narnia with a talking skull, I don't need this!"

Suddenly, a loud, booming voice echoed from further down the path. It was high-pitched, energetic, and sounded like it belonged to someone who had consumed far too much espresso.

"SANS! SANS, YOU LAZY BONES! ARE YOU DOING YOUR JOB? ARE YOU WATCHING FOR HUMANS?"

A much taller skeleton came sprinting into view. He was wearing what looked like a homemade superhero costume, complete with a red scarf that trailed behind him like a cape and bright red boots. He skidded to a halt, his boots kicking up a cloud of snow.

"SANS! I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR AGES! THE GREAT PAPYRUS DOES NOT APPRECIATE BEING KEPT—"

The tall skeleton stopped mid-sentence. His large, circular eye sockets widened as they landed on Kevin. He began to tremble with visible excitement.

"SANS... IS THAT... IS THAT A HUMAN?" Papyrus whispered loudly, his voice cracking.

Kevin looked up at the tall skeleton, then back down at Sans, then back up at the tall one. He took in the scarf, the chest plate, and the sheer intensity of the skeleton’s expression.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Kevin said, stepping back and holding up his hands. "Look, I don't want any trouble. I don't know what kind of 'He-Man' audition I walked into, but I’m just trying to find the nearest Starbucks and a way back to a zip code that doesn't require a parka."

Papyrus gasped, clutching his face. "IT SPEAKS! AND IT IS... SO SMALL! SANS, IT’S EVEN SMALLER THAN YOU! IS THIS A RECENTLY HATCHED HUMAN?"

Kevin’s jaw dropped. He stepped forward, pointing a finger at Papyrus’s chest plate. "Excuse me? Small? Did you just call me small? First of all, I am 'compact.' I am 'aerodynamic.' I am a 'pocket-sized powerhouse.' You can’t just come out here in your red boots and talk about my height. I have more energy in my pinky toe than you have in your whole lanky-ass frame!"

Sans snickered, leaning back against a nearby tree. "careful, pap. he seems a little 'short-tempered.'"

Kevin spun around to face Sans. "I saw that! I saw what you did there! You think you’re slick? You think because you’re a skeleton you can just rattle off puns? Well, let me tell you something, buddy. I’ve been in the game a long time. I’ve dealt with hecklers bigger than you—well, maybe not taller than your brother, but definitely wider!"

He turned back to Papyrus, who was looking at him with a mixture of awe and confusion.

"And you!" Kevin shouted, gesturing to the tall skeleton. "You’re looking for humans? Well, you found one. But you didn't just find a human, you found Kevin Hart. You need to pull it together, man. You’re vibrating like a chihuahua in a thunderstorm. Take a breath. Take a 'rib-check' and calm down!"

The silence that followed was heavy. Papyrus blinked, his mouth hanging open. Sans let out a sudden, explosive burst of laughter, clutching his stomach.

"a rib-check? pfft—hahaha!" Sans doubled over. "that’s a good one. he’s got you there, bro."

Papyrus looked back and forth between them, his expression shifting from confusion to a beaming, toothy grin. "NYEH HEH HEH! A RIB-CHECK! I SEE! YOU ARE MAKING A JOKE ABOUT MY ANATOMY! HOW CLEVER! SANS, THIS HUMAN IS EXTREMELY WITTY! HE MIGHT BE ALMOST AS GREAT AS ME!"

Kevin crossed his arms, a small, smug smile playing on his lips. "Almost? Please. I’m the GOAT. I’m the Greatest Of All Time. You’re just the Greatest Of All... whatever this place is. Snow-land? Frozen-toke? What is this?"

"THIS IS SNOWDIN, HUMAN!" Papyrus proclaimed, striking a heroic pose. "AND I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, SHALL BE THE ONE TO CAPTURE YOU! THEN I WILL FINALLY JOIN THE ROYAL GUARD! I WILL HAVE MANY FRIENDS! I WILL WEAR A FANCY UNIFORM! EVERYONE WILL ADORE ME!"

Kevin looked at Sans. "Is he serious? He wants to capture me? Look at him. He looks like he’d have trouble capturing a Wi-Fi signal. He’s too nice. He’s got 'good guy' written all over his ribcage."

Sans shrugged. "he's a pretty tough cookie. but yeah, he's a big softie. don't tell him i said that, though. it'd rattle him."

"I HEARD THAT, SANS!" Papyrus shouted, though he didn't look angry. "I AM NOT A SOFTIE! I ARE A FIERCE WARRIOR! HUMAN! PREPARE YOURSELF FOR MY PUZZLES! THEY ARE INGENIOUS! THEY ARE DIABOLICAL! THEY ARE... INVISIBLE!"

Kevin squinted. "Invisible puzzles? You’re going to stop me with air? Man, I’ve dealt with invisible contracts in Hollywood that were scarier than that. You’re going to have to do better than that, Slim."

Papyrus huffed, though he looked more challenged than offended. "SLIM? I AM NOT SLIM, I AM STURDY! JUST WAIT, HUMAN! ONCE YOU ENCOUNTER MY MAZE OF ELECTRICITY, YOU WILL BE SHOCKED BY MY BRILLIANCE!"

Kevin leaned toward Sans. "Is he always like this? The volume? The capslock voice? It’s a lot to take in before breakfast."

"pretty much 24/7," Sans said, his eyes glowing faintly. "you get used to it. or you don't. either way, it's a 'bone-afide' experience."

Kevin groaned so loud it echoed through the trees. "That’s it. I’m done. I’m walking. I’m going to find a way out of here before I start talking in puns too. If I start saying things like 'bone-voyage,' just shoot me. Just do it."

Kevin started walking past Papyrus, who turned in circles trying to keep up.

"WAIT! HUMAN! YOU CANNOT JUST WALK AWAY! WE HAVE NOT EVEN STARTED THE CAPTURING PROCESS! THERE ARE RULES! THERE ARE STANDARDS!" Papyrus cried out, trotting alongside Kevin.

"Rules? I’m Kevin Hart, baby! I break the rules!" Kevin shouted over his shoulder, his pace quickening. "And tell your brother to stop following me! I can hear his slippers clicking! It’s creepy!"

Sans followed at a leisurely pace, his hands still in his pockets. "hey, don't sweat it. we're just 'skull-king' around."

Kevin stopped dead in his tracks. He turned around, pointing a finger at the short skeleton. "That’s it. That is the line. You crossed it. 'Skull-king'? You should be ashamed of yourself. That was lazy. That was a lazy pun, Sans!"

Sans just winked. "i told you. i'm a lazy bones."

Kevin stared at him for a long moment, then let out a defeated sigh. He looked at the tall, enthusiastic skeleton and the short, pun-loving one. He was in a magical snowy forest, being hunted by two brothers who were literally made of calcium, and one of them wanted to be his best friend while the other wanted to hit him with dad jokes.

"Alright, look," Kevin said, putting his hands on his hips. "If I’m going to be 'captured,' I have requirements. I need snacks. I need a heater. And if you—" he pointed at Papyrus "—try to put me in a cage, it better have high-speed internet and a decent sound system. I don't do 'dungeons' unless they're five-star."

Papyrus beamed, his eyes practically sparkling. "SNACKS? I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, AM A MASTER CHEF! I SHALL PREPARE FOR YOU MY WORLD-FAMOUS SPAGHETTI! IT IS AGED TO PERFECTION!"

Kevin’s eyebrows shot up. "Aged spaghetti? You mean leftovers? You’re trying to capture me with leftovers? Man, this is the weirdest kidnapping I’ve ever been a part of. And I’ve been to some weird parties in Vegas."

"IT IS NOT LEFTOVERS! IT IS CULINARY ART!" Papyrus insisted, already starting to jog ahead. "FOLLOW ME, HUMAN! TO MY HOUSE! TO MY KITCHEN! TO YOUR INEVITABLE, BUT VERY COMFORTABLE, CAPTURE!"

Kevin watched the tall skeleton run off, his red scarf flapping wildly. He looked at Sans, who was still standing there with that unreadable grin.

"He’s really going to make spaghetti, isn't he?" Kevin asked.

"yep," Sans said. "it's... an experience. you might want to bring some hot sauce. or a jackhammer."

Kevin shook his head, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Unbelievable. I go from the Oscars to a skeleton’s kitchen in the middle of nowhere. My agent is getting fired. So fired."

"don't worry about it," Sans said, stepping up beside him. "just 'tibia' yourself. you'll fit right in."

Kevin didn't even argue this time. He just started walking. "You know what? Fine. Lead the way, Bone-jovi. Let’s see this spaghetti."

As they walked through the snow toward the flickering lights of a small town in the distance, Kevin couldn't help but think that, despite the cold and the puns, this might actually be a pretty good story for his next stand-up special. Assuming, of course, he didn't die of a pun-overdose first.