Aliza, I dare u to poke your dad.
Aliza snickered, covering her mouth with her palm, before leaning across the couch and, very gently, poking the tip of her finger into the void of her napping father’s stomach.
She jumped in surprise when the motion was rewarded with a loud, crude farting sound.
Sans chuckled at her surprise, cracking his whole socket open to peer at her. He lifted the edge of his jacket as he did, and a compressed whoopie cushion fell from inside and onto the couch between them.
“gotta wake up a little earlier than that to get one over on me, precious.”