#grunkle stan.

ah yes....stan steven universe.....

Grunkle Stan was sitting in his favourite old arm chair, with the springs that always pressed into his back, reminding him of how old it was. How long it’d been since he’d spent a dime on something soft and cushy. He was drinking a can of something cheap and reliable, and belching occasionally too. It was a near perfect evening, in Stan’s books. The one thing preventing the grouch, dressed in his signature fez, a dirty old vest, green striped underwear, long socks, and pink bunny slippers that Mabel had gotten him, from enjoying his evening fully was that the damn TV wasn’t working anymore. And, as was the way of life’s biggest tragedies, nothing got better when he pounded his fist on the top of it, telling it it was a piece of crap and should work because he’d be damned if it’d malfunction now because he wasn’t buying a new piece of crap TV, oh no.  Where was he?  Oh yeah. The repair guy, Lyell. “Lyell!” He called out, sauntering from the living room to the front of shop where Lyell was presumably doing some kinda fix-y stuff. “T.V’s on the fritz. Could you, uh, take a look at it?”