#427's job was simple: he sat at his desk in Room 427 and he pushed buttons on a keyboard, creating tweets.
(Parody and not actually associated with TSP)
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What does this even mean? What? There are... babies on the way there? Like, on the floor? Why madness, though? Can't the babies pave another way? Why babies? Why? What?
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Stanley grabbed a fork from the hammerspace in his pocket, wrapped the pasta around it and then ate it.
Stanleys face reflexively scrunched up, the spaghetti was absolutely indescribably, paradoxically horrible.
Stanley gave a thumbs up contradictive of his face.
Stanley reached towards it a-
What? No Stanley you cant just go the other direction, you're going to throw off the story even more!
This is the first interaction with someone else and this is what you do? Throw it all away and dart in the other direction?
Stanley retold every door he went through, every button he pressed and all the wrong decisions he made.
This went on for hours and hours, it was honestly impressing how much detail went into all his recounting of the story.
Evil Stanley be like:
I HATE pushing buttons. I do NOT have a voice in my head. ALL of my co-workers are here. I am NOT a parable made to teach lessons!
Evil Garfield be like:
Monday is my FAVORITE day. I love salads. I can't stay still for more than 5 seconds. I am not unknowingly an eldritch god. I am very active.