Uncle Grandpa's eyes snapped open as the words burst out of his lips, and he happily hopped out of his race car bed on his way to start a brand new day. He tore off his pajamas, revealing his normal suit of clothes underneath, and strolled out of his room. He took Belly Bag off of the coat rack outside his room and fastened the magical talking fanny pack around his waist.
"Good morning, Belly Bag," Uncle Grandpa said.
"Good morning, Uncle Grandpa!" Belly Bag greeted him.
The pair made their way through the RV. Most of the time, Uncle Grandpa would have taken a more circuitous route, but today, Uncle Grandpa was a man on a mission, a mission that required him to walk forward towards his goal resolutely, and not get drawn away by anything, not even a mysterious foosball table guarded by an evil spirit.
Oh, what the heck, one game couldn't hurt.
"Good morning, mister evil spirit!" Uncle Grandpa said happily.
The evil spirit exhaled. Its' breath smelled of broken dreams, swamp gas, tortured children, and ketchup.
Uncle Grandpa inhaled the scent and smacked his lips. "Mmm, ketchup. So, whatcha got there? A little...game of foosball, eh?"
The evil spirit exhaled again.
"I dunno," Uncle Grandpa said. "I really should be on my way."
The evil spirit exhaled and held up the ball.
"Enh, you're right," Uncle Grandpa said. "What could one game hurt?"
The spirit dropped the ball onto the table, and the game was on. Although the evil spirit quickly sent three goals sizzling through, it was then that Uncle Grandpa sprouted a third arm from his nose and was able to control three of the four sticks at once. With this advantage, Uncle Grandpa slowly narrowed the gap as they traded goals until eventually they were tied at nine-all. The game grew tense at this point, with the evil spirit and Uncle Grandpa concentrating hard as they battled until eventually, a stray shot from midfield started rolling towards Uncle Grandpa's goal.
"Belly Bag!" Uncle Grandpa cried. "Help me!"
"I'm on it!" the bag declared. He leapt off of Uncle Grandpa's midsection, grabbed the goalie stick, and spun it around viciously. The goalie made contact with the ball, and it popped up into the air, bounced off the back of the evil spirit's goalie's head, and fell into the goal. The evil spirit let out a terrifying shriek as it condensed into nothingness and disappeared.
"Great job, Belly Bag!" Uncle Grandpa said as Belly Bag refastened himself around his waist. "Now, what were we doing again?"
"Beats me," Belly Bag said, shrugging. "I'm just along for the ride!"
Uncle Grandpa chuckled. "You're great, Belly Bag. But–oh!"
Uncle Grandpa set off again, resolution written on his face.
"Good morning!" he said cheerfully as he passed a disco-dancing chupacabra.
The chupacabra chittered back but didn't cease its discoing.
"Good morning!" he greeted Pizza Steve.
"Enh," said Pizza Steve, lazily lifting one hand.
"Pizza Steve's so cool," Uncle Grandpa whispered.
"If you say so," Belly Bag replied.
"Good morning!" Uncle Grandpa said to a mustachioed madman.
The madman cackled maniacally.
Finally, Uncle Grandpa reached the front of the RV, where Mr. Gus was driving.
"Hey, Mr. Gus!" Uncle Grandpa said cheerfully. "How's my favorite dinosaur today?"
"Doin' fine, Uncle Grandpa," Mr. Gus said happily. "How about you?"
"I'm looking for peanut butter," Uncle Grandpa said. "You know where it is?"
Mr. Gus hitched a thumb over his shoulder. "Try the kitchen."
"Thanks, Mr. Gus!" Uncle Grandpa said happily.
Uncle Grandpa reached his arm out towards the kitchen. It stretched, and stretched, and stretched, until it finally reached the peanut butter. Once Uncle Grandpa got ahold of it, his arm snapped back like a rubber band, sending the jar of peanut butter into the windshield. The windshield shattered, and the jar of peanut butter sailed down the road.
"Oh, no!" Uncle Grandpa exclaimed. "My peanut butter!"
Uncle Grandpa leaped through the shattered windshield in order to chase after his breakfast.