This is Not Good!

Yo, this is the My Galactic Taxi Getaway Driver bop.

***

I wake up and find this note on my fridge.

CHLOE FITZWATER,

YOU HAVE BEEN CITED TO THE INTERGALACTIC SPACE POLICE STATION ON GALAXY AVENUE. PLEASE REPORT ON ACCOUNT OF ACCUSED THIEVERY FROM AN ANONYMOUS TIP BY 8 A.M.

I just love being accused of thievery at the start of my day!

My name is Chloe, or Channing, if you don't care about my birth certificate. I own a shop with the most extensive name on Galaxy Avenue, I think. Not a lot of people come to this shop, considering that no one wants to say, "Hey, honey, do you want to head out to the Insurmountable Assorted Shiny Items Shop on Galaxy Ave?" My parents are the only constants here, and they are what keep me going. My shop sells-- is it obvious?-- several different glittery things.

I live on my own at age 14. Five years ago, that would've been considered absolute nonsense, but the entire government developed Space Law, which encloses the Universal Code, but I don't care about all that blah... It basically just means that kids are now allowed to do whatever they want, as long as their parents help them in some way, shape or form. Any kind of Child Support will do.

The Universal Code realistically states that kids can go wherever and do whatever. The galaxies and universes are open to all of them, because the government washed all the suspicious aliens out of their galactic space taxis and everything is now considered 100-percent safe. I myself never use the space taxis, considering that the guys who drive them look way too fancy for their jobs, but I know from one experience that other kids my age have all reverted using space taxis instead of Ubers. It's the new cool thing.

I think most kids fled from their parents' homes because they wanted to see all these new universes. And, surprisingly, all of the universes are what our television shows and videogames were! Which means that every child ran out the door and took the shuttles to space to meet their favorite characters.

It's against the Universal Code to switch constantly between one universe and the Intergalactic Space-Time Town Square, which is where I live in my shop that I named when I was 9 years old. You go to a universe, you stay there. You can come out, of course, but you're not allowed to go back in once you come out.

So that's why there is an enormous residency of entirely children in the Dr. Suess, Pocoyo, Powerpuff Girls, Spongebob, and The Amazing World of Gumball universe. The parents all send money through the shuttles, and that's the way that the world-- or, uh, the Intergalactic Space-Time Town Square-- works.

It's all fun and games until the intergalactic space police call you out for thievery.

I feel a little conflicted about even going to the station. Who gave that "anonymous tip," anyway? Someone who absolutely hates the fact that I named my shop Insurmountable Assorted Shiny Items Shop? I was 9 when I named it, and I seriously do not want to go through all the forms and paperwork that one must file through to change my shop's name. Why would someone hate me so much as to accuse me of thievery?

The only thing I ever stole was the answers to a science test in fourth grade. And that was the week before I was allowed to go to space in the shuttle with the rest of the world's fourth-graders. I don't think it really counts as "stealing." The girl I stole the answers from is now in the Dr. Suess-Pocoyo-Powerpuff Girls-Spongebob-the Amazing World of Gumball universe, anyway, and I assume she's doing well.

I take the piece of paper off my fridge (how did it even get there, anyway?) and shove it into the trash bin. Weirdly enough, life in space is exactly the same as life down on Earth, except the sky is never blue and always black. And don't even ask me about all the specifics of oxygen and space being a vacuum-- I don't know anything about any of that stuff. I sell shiny things in the town square, and that's all I ever do.

There's no way I'm heading to the intergalactic police station on account of an anonymous tip of thievery! I haven't stolen a thing. Everything that I have in my shop has been imported either from Earth or some alien planet, but most other shops on my row are ones that specialize in alien substances, so switching to that would only rid me of my two regular customers. I'd rather stick with all of my un-stolen items.

Who even accused me, anyway? How ridiculous.

...Although, with the fact that I now hear an intergalactic space police dog sniffling at my front door, I may just want to sprint over to the police station and plead Innocent.

I barely have time to get dressed in any proper outfit. My baseball shirt with no number on it that I have kept since fifth grade, or what I would've had of fifth grade, a pair of jeans with natural holes with them, and two mis-matching socks are the only things I have the time to pull on before I grab my shoes and run out the back door of my house.

My house is my shop, actually. I live in the back room of my shop. I don't actually have a "house." It's both annoying and revolutionary, even though this kind of thing has been done since when people first discovered that shops could be a thing.

The noses of those intergalactic space police dogs are ones to be trusted. I know they'll definitely find the trail that my dirty sneakers leave behind as I race loudly down the metal staircase. I never have been good at making an escape.

Why am I escaping, you may ask? Doesn't it just show them that I'm guilty?

Well, you see, I am very afraid of the intergalactic space police German shepherds. They'll tear you to pieces. It is much better for a policeman to come to my house than a police dog, because I will become jerky if the latter. That is why I am racing to get as far away from my house-shop as possible.

I would like to live another day.

Oh, good golly! There's a space taxi parked in the alley behind my house. As much as I hate space taxis, I have no other choice. I have no space-driver's license yet and haven't even gotten my space-learner's permit, so I am nowhere near learning how to drive. Maybe I can milk something out of the driver to get me out of here.

I check my pants pockets. Of course! This is the one time I leave my house without my wallet.

Huffing and puffing, I (politely!) open the door to the taxi, hop in, and (not-so-politely) slam it shut beside me. I try not to pant too much, though. I can't have everyone thinking that I'm a criminal.

Whoops. Channing, you just burst in on someone's break time. I look over and find that the driver is staring at his phone, eyes trained on some odd-looking webpage detailing the construction of monster society, whatever that happens to be. This person is a taxi driver, but he's on his break.

And of course he is! It's 8 in the morning! He's probably been out all night, taxi-ing around whole truckloads of demanding residents to their favorite shops and space bars--

"heya." Upon seeing what a snoopy 14-year-old I am, he slides his phone into his hoodie pocket.

Heya? Who says 'heya'? And as I look up, the realization dawns on me.

Is that...?

"Sans?"

I hear the skeleton chuckle as he shoves the key into the ignition and twists it. The galactic taxi grumbles into glorious neon light, sputtering beneath my feet. The whole car vibrates for a few seconds before finding its luxurious rhythm.

"so," he says, taking a glance at the fire escape where I recently ran from, "you're one of those kids who knows my name, huh? have we met?"

I blink. Oh. Makes sense. There must be a ton of angsty teenagers who know his name. For some reason, everyone loves him.

I'm kind of surprise that he's only a taxi driver. If the fan club of teens loves him so much, why doesn't he just milk them for money? He could be living in a space-mansion by now!

But maybe he wants to lay low. Someone so famous can only go so far before he gets tired of the teenage crowd that is awash with phones and selfie sticks.

"Um..." It takes me a second to think of a reasonable response. I just woke up. Tossing the messy strands of hair out of my face and realizing I never brushed them, I say, "Oh, no, I'm not one of those people. I just heard about you from my cousin."

He looks at me suspiciously. "yeah?"

I straighten myself and reach back for the buckle. "Yeah! I wouldn't lie to you!"

That's sort of a lie. But it's not a lie that my red-haired cousin use to tell me all about this skeleton named Sans. I would hear everything from his range of crazy powers to all the theories about where he grew up and who his dad was. I never really cared about that stuff, as my interest lay in other places when I was six years old and wanted to write my own stories about "ninga girls," so I never looked into this Sans character much.

But I heard about his big huge fan club, and I should've expected to meet him at least somewhere in the vast expansion of universes. I'm surprised he left his own one for a job driving around aliens and residents in this galactic taxi.

He shrugs his shoulders. "alrighty, then. where to?"

"Uh..." Once again, my brain goes blank. I peek out the window like a five-year-old, finding that the intergalactic space police German shepherds are sniffing their way down the fire escape and launching themselves from the heights to try and find me. The thought of becoming beef jerky makes me shiver. "Anywhere but here. Somewhere really far away."

I turn to him. "Got any ideas?"

He looks up something on his phone, pulling the gearshift into drive. "yep. i got a place."

"And, uuuuummmm..." I hesitantly slide down from the window, hoping to hide my face from the advancing German shepherds. At least I remembered to grab my glasses from my desk. "About the pay--"

"yeah, whatever." The car starts going upward, and it's then that I remember that I haven't ridden a space-taxi in several years and have completely forgotten how they work. "i don't really care, bucko. i don't need the money, heh."

Phew. Thanks.

Suddenly I hear the thump of Sans's foot hitting the gas pedal, and then I regret my decision to hop into a galactic space taxi that goes the speed of light.

***

[This was a wild ride, wasn't it? And this is just chapter 1! I am very excited about this series, and please note that there may be more than just one chapter out each day. I might have two or even three in one day! Hopefully you can keep up with my quick pacing.

[Thank you so much for reading! If you want to know who Sans, is, check out this link: https://undertale.fandom.com/wiki/Sans And please leave feedback in the comments! I love to reciprocate!]

[Side note: I do not own Undertale or any related characters. All rights of Undertale and its character(s) used in this series belong to Toby Fox.]

Chapter 2 out soon...