Chapter Text
“Do I look like I give a flying fuck about your feelings!?” Killer exclaimed.
“Killer! Language!” Dream hissed. “Don’t make me get Fresh!”
The two bitties were standing on the table, arguing pointlessly.
“Pfft, yeah right.” Killer scoffed. “Like you know where the fuck he is.”
“Killer, stop swearing,” Ink said with perfect timing, walking past them while writing something in a notebook.
Despite being shorter than an Oompa Loompa, he towered over the bitties when it came to height. On a completely unrelated note, he wasn’t even bothering to look at Killer when he was addressing him.
That really ticked Killer off.
“Nyeeh!” Killer made a rude noise, sticking his tongue out and flashing two very ‘unkind’ fingers at Dream.
He was being quite childish.
“Shut the fuck up, Killer,” Dust sighed, walking over to the group on the table.
“DUST!” Dream exclaimed.
“What? He needs to,” Dust shrugged.
“That isn’t helping!”
“Like you can tell me what to do, bitch-ass!!!” Killer snapped at Dream again, ignoring Dust’s arrival completely.
“You’re right,” Dream began. “…but he can.”
Dream pointed to a tall figure that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.
“Heya, broskis! I’m all’up’n hearin’ some pretty un-rad things from over here!” Fresh in a lively manner, pointing two finger guns at the bitties.
“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me!” Killer groaned, rubbing his hands down his face in frustration. “You actually called him!?”
“Yup,” Ink confirmed, walking back over to the table Dream and Killer were standing on. He was still looking at his paper, doodling. “Though, he kinda called himself over.”
“That’s right, buddy! I skadoodled on over here after I heard some totes-uncool things being said to some super rad people.”
“You’re joking,” Killer hissed at Ink. “This [Cool Dude]!?”
Killer paused.
“[Cool Dude]!” Killer repeated. “WHY THE [FUNK] CAN’T I SAY [COOL DUDE]!?” He exclaimed. “HE’S A [COOL DUDE]! Not a [Funking] [COOL DUDE]! UGH!!!”
He hopped up and grabbed the pen Ink was writing with, tearing off a sheet of paper from his sketchbook.
“Hey!” Ink said sadly.
Hopping back down, Killer wrote down his “naughty word”, and pulled it up to show them. He turned to face Dream, Fresh and Ink still standing behind him on the floor. The paper read in large print: “COOL DUDE”, with an arrow pointing at Fresh.
“[FUNK]!” Killer exclaimed after seeing the paper, throwing the paper to the ground. “FEMALE BULLDOG!” He exclaimed angrily, pointing at Fresh.
“Wow… that is just sad .” Dust whispered pitifully to Dream, eyes still locked on at Killer.
“[mother-ducker]… that [funking] [Beach-Ball]…” Killer grumbled, huffing as he sat down, crossing his legs in defeat.
He was probably muttering through all the names he wished to call Fresh right then, but for all they knew he could have been talking about a pool party.