Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sans' phone was acting up lately.

Few things from it could catch his attention for long except for a funny dog video or two, but as he peeked at it from his pocket, he couldn’t help noting a pattern.

Huh. Those emails again…

“Hello? Hello mister? I can’t reach the shopping baskets, I have no arms.”

“oh hey.” Sans blinked away from the union-regulated break to turn back towards the checkout counter (his own union actually, since he was the only worker in this store. Also, there was no union). “just stack what you need on your head. problem solved.”

The monster kid before him was definitely bereft of any arms, but they luckily had a head, all things considered. Now if they were both a headless and armless monster, then he’d have a real predicament on his hands. Phew, dodged that bullet.

The kid was awkwardly standing before him, squinting their eyes up at Sans, which was a bit unusual since most monsters and humans were taller than him. And most kids. A lot of kids actually. Not this one though.

But then again, no one was taller than the tower of shopping baskets off in the corner. Every time Sans looked there, he felt a tear coming to his eye. Except he was a skeleton so he couldn’t really do that.

“But I need to buy some milk and eggs! And a whole lot of car magazines…” The kid was hopping up and down, trying to reach their face past the counter just enough. “I can’t carry all that on my head!”

His phone vibrated again. His eyes shifted, but he always made sure to keep on his smile for the customer. Union rules and all.

“here, kid. lemme show you a professional’s trick to stacking, very behind-the-scenes so to speak. ya ready?”

After the armless monster kid was able to balance a dozen egg cartons plus one gallon of fat-free milk out the door, Sans took his regulated 8^th break for the day, leaning back while still standing since, of course, chairs were not allowed on the job (again, union rules) and checked his phone.

RE: ENDSTONIGHT!! ACTIVATE YOUR KR0MER CASHBACK

Handpicked Heartwarming Stories of Salesman That Will Make You Bring Out the Tissues

DID Y0U F0RGET??? REWARDS ARE WAITNG NOW

🔥 This Deal is Lit!! Earn More KR0MER Today! 🔥

JUST TEN WEEKS?!! I CANT SEE

(3) messages from hot recently-divorced moms in your area

HURRY, GET YOUR FREE [[DEAL]] [[[OR ELSE]]]]

Yeah, nothing out of the ordinary at all. Sans always got spam emails, and he never activated the spam filter because he got a lot of comedy gold from those subject lines. Made for good bedtime reading too.

Except, well, it was kinda weird to get them today.

“No wi-fi… No wi-fi… Anywhere…”

Sans looked up to find a weird-looking monster huddling by the magazine stacks, holding up his phone with a long, gangly arm. He was waving it around the air like it was a net, reaching to catch those coveted, invisible waves of information.

Terry? Was that Terry? That guy’s never-needing-to-go-to-the-bathroom skills could put his own to shame.

Except that wasn’t Terry.

“No wi-fi… The wi-fi here sucks…”

Sans shrugged. He couldn’t deny it. The wi-fi indeed sucked here. It sucked everywhere. Because it was nonexistent.

The entire town hadn’t had any internet service for quite a few weeks now, which again, was why things were weird.

His phone lit up once more with another email. He peered back at it, smile frozen on his skull.

HEY THERE [[BIG SHOT]]. WANNA MAKE A DEAL?!

Really weird.

The bunker had a few dents in its doors.

Sans usually misses out on just who’s been doing it, but mostly because he doesn’t feel like checking it out. Today though, things were just off enough for him to close his store early, and with good ol’ Terry inside. He’d watch over the wares for his buddy, Sans.

The doors were still pretty beat up, coupled with a few scratches on it – but very firmly shut. Red doors, covered with clinging vines and ivy, underneath a grassy mound as if the earth had been in the middle of swallowing it up before stopping at the last second.

Oh, and there was a purple-shaped monster right in the middle.

“Open up! Why! Won’t! You! Open!”

“hey champ.” Sans leaned against that same grassy mound. Was really comfy, way comfier than leaning against metal doors. Just something that he knew by experience. “you doing good?”

The girl turned around, and what he saw was a lot of teeth.

Sharp, bared teeth, hair covering most of her face, but making sure to keep at least one eye looking through, to give it that extra chilling effect. Coupled with her towering form, slightly hunched, and barely perceived breathing that was like the heave of an ancient creature – someone might say she was big for a teenager, but monsters didn’t really follow the laws of human physics, since they weren’t human.

A voice rumbled out from her throat. “The hell are you sneaking up on me for?”

She was pretty good. Sans could appreciate her talent.

“just thinking that this…thing you’re doing right now….” He eyed the dented doors, the handles that looked very much like they’d been gnawed on, with bite marks still clearly seen through the metal. “seems pretty sus, eh susie?”

Ba dum tsh! Heh. He still got it.

The confused pause happened, as expected. She raised her head, and her demonic flare that she’d been putting on was…not gone, but definitely muted. “What was that?” she hissed. Yeah, only pros could keep up that kinda thing for long. In the end, talent lost out to practice. She was trying though. “Hey. How’d a creep like you know my name?”

“i know everyone.” Sans shrugged. “by the way, im sans. sans the skeleton. and biting this stuff can’t be good for your teeth.”

That, and he’d see her plenty of times in his store. Most of the time she’d be off in the magazine section, leafing through the glossy pages of ‘MONSTER TRUCK RALLY’, which sold just slightly more over ‘HUMAN TRUCK RALLY’, usually because human trucks were a bit on the small side in comparison. She read those magazines so much like his store was the librarbry, but he appreciated the company during the slow hours.

At the mention of teeth, she grinned, fangs a lurid yellow, points so sharp that they’d probably ground most things into dust – well, unless they were a sort of mysterious metal that was in a shady corner of town.

“You wanna see just how good my teeth can be?” she asked him, going back to her creepy vibe. Kid could really go to the big leagues if she really wanted to.

“nah, already got my pearly whites. but i can give you a few brushing tips i’ve picked up on.” Hands dug deep into his jacket pockets, his skull laying nice and cozy on the grass slope. “just remember, it’s all in your head when it comes down to it.”

From the momentary pause, to the tiny flicker in her glowing eye, he could tell she didn’t get the joke. Fair. He knew he’d have a tough audience the moment he’d come here. But that was how it always was in his line of work…. which was cashiering, obviously.

“Even for an adult, you’re way freaking lame.” She grinned again, showing off her fangs that she must have personally filed herself. Maybe she did have good monster dental hygiene after all. “Do you want me to bite your face off that badly?”

She punched a fist against the red doors once more, the sound ringing so hollow in the air. Birds flew from the trees at the sound, and it even made Sans’ teeth rattle from the vibrations of her punch against the metal. If one listened even more closely, they could hear the waves of such a hollow ring go further away, further, and much further into the earth than should have even been possible…

He shrugged. “i don’t have one.”

She stuttered, blinking. Her messy hair got even more mussed up. “Uh. Wha.”

“a face.” Sans waved a gloved hand over his skull. “don’t got one. just all bones.”

Another slow blink.

“cuz you know. i’m a skeleton.”

The wind blew through her hair, revealing her eyes that were more tired out from playing video games all night then being all bloodthirsty and vicious a second ago.

“we don’t have skin, so, technically no face-”

“YOU KNOW WHAT I FREAKING MEAN, YOU WEIRDO!”

Her roar would have been eardrum shattering if he had any. But he was always lacking instead of having. He was used to it really.

“just sayin.” Another shrug, complete with a wink. “gotta get your skeleton facts straight. no bones about it.”

“Who cares about bones?!” She clenched her fists, grinded her teeth. She was really trying her best here. “I’ll crack your bony skull open then!”

“can’t.” He shrugged again.

“What. WHY?!”

“we’re monsters. don’t got no bones like the humans do, only magic.” He winked. “ya need to learn more about your culture.”

He had never seen purple turn into quite that fire-y shade before.

“The hell… is your problem…?”

“nothing. i just like being annoying.”

“YOU CAN’T JUST SAY THAT!”

“whoa. starting to sound like my brother there. ya friends with him?”

“Why would I-?! Agh, screw this! I’m done with this place anyway!” Susie huffed, turning around only to find Sans leaning against the grassy mound again, just on the opposite side.

She flinched, standing on one leg, arms flailing just a bit, eyes wide. “What the HELL?”

“look, kid. i only came here to see what was up, is all.” He finally decided to stand, though not doing so at a hundred percent power. So he was still a little slouchy, a little sleepy. He was missing his regulated 20^th break of the day. The union wasn’t going to be happy. “felt some bad vibes coming from here.”

The girl was not looking very happy right now in her oversized army jacket and her torn up trousers, (the tears most likely being self-made). She glared down at the funny bone man, but much of her previous bravado was gone, leaving her bereft of anything even remotely scary about her anymore. “I’m… I’m not doing anything wrong here! I just wanted to see what was inside this stupid thing.” She huffed, which sounded more like a snort, really. Sans was pretty sure that hadn’t been intentional. “No other kids come here or anything, so it’s not like I’m scaring anyone again.”

Sans shook his head. “nah nah. i didn’t mean you, you know.”

He did have a really bad habit of not being clear, so seeing Susie’s eyes twitch in frustration was not exactly surprising. “You just-! You just said about there being bad vibes and I was saying how I wasn’t-!”

“not from you,” he clarified. “you’re a good kid. you got…halloween vibes. like, you’re spooky. and you could pull off a box costume like nobody’s business.”

The confusion was mixed in with a bit of flattery there, if he could read the shade of purple on her face just right. “Then…what exactly are you talking about?”

He jutted a gloved thumb to the double doors, the red on it faded, like rust, like dried remnants of things that monsters were not made of. The gentle rumbling in the earth, the sound of something akin to refuse, to things that should be buried away and forgotten, like machinery that refused to just power down and stay still.

“bad vibes,” he simply said. “not a place for kids. so.” He put his hand back in his pocket, leaned back in his slippers that needed a good washing about three weeks ago. “gonna have to ask you to vamoose outta here. ya know. for your health.”

Easy as that. Susie just stared at him, which was nothing new. If people are staring, that just means you have an audience.

“Okay, I should leave then. Is that what you’re saying?”

He nodded. “yea.”

“…I was just about to do that, dumbass.” Susie growled. “And then you stopped me!”

“oh right.” Sans shrugged. “my mistake. but ya get me, right?”

“Ugh, I get ya enough! Whatever. This place sucks anyway.” She then pressed a hand to her jaw, lips pressed firm. “And those stupid doors hurt my teeth.”

Sans sympathized with the kid. “told ya. bad vibes.”

“Yeah yeah…” She sighed, still glaring at Sans like the weirdo that he knew he was. “Maybe don’t spy on kids though, freak.”

“i’ll put that in the pile, don’t worry,” he said, very much not taking that complaint to heart. “as a professional kid-spy though, aren’t you late for something?”

“What do you-” And just on cue, a certain school bell rang throughout the town, even reaching as far as this off-the-road corner of the town, where mean girls and tubby skeletons liked to hang out at. “Ugh. Not again!!”

“try not to rampage through a few buildings in your way.” And though he saw the look of unbridled annoyance at him as she turned, just about to dash out of there, Sans had an idea. “hey kid. one sec.”

“What is it NOW?” Susie lunged at him, stopping short from gripping his skull with her ginormous hands. “Why do you keep telling me to leave and then not actually let me leave?!”

“don’t worry, just a few things i gotta tell ya. first, try not to come back here. least not without a friend. good friends can be relied on, ya know?”

“Grr… well, don’t worry that won’t happen. So I won’t be back.” She lost some of her ferocity then, hair falling over her face more. Teen angst was always tough to handle.

“second… how about a pick-me-up?” He winked. “i can cut ya a deal.”

At that, Susie picked up her head. “Huh? Are you… one of those kind of guys…”

He held up his hand, signifying her to quiet down. “gotta keep it on the downlow. get me?”

Sans knew then that this kid had been watching plenty of films to get at what he meant. Or thought she got at what he meant. The difference didn’t really matter.

“here, kid. on the house. just don’t tell anyone where you got this.”

He gestured for her to hold out her hand, and even though she hesitated, she was curious. Obvious in the way her eyes lit up (non-menacingly this time), and how her tail was wagging. But of course he wasn’t going to mention that.

So when she did, great purple dinosaur hand outstretched, white claws atop each finger that were probably as sharp as fluffy marshmallows, Sans pulled out something from his pocket.

He kept his gloved hand curled up, even as he gave it to her. He then sealed the deal with a wink. “don’t spend it all in one place.”

And with that, he was outta there, just able to see Susie’s eyes sparkle with both want and a little confusion.

Sans really hoped Alphys wasn’t missing that chalk anytime soon.

The spam emails kept running through, even in the later hours of the day.

Sans’ email storage didn’t have a limit. And, on further deliberation, maybe that had been a mistake.

It was getting to the point where he couldn’t even open up his emails actually. The little bone-and-skulls icon kept loading and rattling on the screen. (It was a skeleton email app. Very hip with skeleton monsters. And a few humans who were way too into that kind of thing.) A shame. He was looking forward to what unintelligible garbage he’d received next.

At the very least, he got those sweet, sweet subject lines, hovering on his lock screen. Lines like ‘Hurry! Get Your Free Doggo Today!’ and ‘FW: I got a surprise for you…!! [[DON’T HANG UP]]’ and of course the classic, 3OLBS?!?! IN JUST3 WEEKS? [[ENDS TONIGHT]] Y0U F0RGOT AB0UT ME???

Whoever was writing these, they had a knack for this stuff.

A gentle ding caught his attention, already telling him who it was. There was only one person who did that, letting the soft tone of the desk bell play out its tune fully. Everyone else just mashed their hands on the bell constantly, which he also liked. He didn’t pick favorites…usually.

It was different with the old lady.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t disturb you from your break, did I?”

“’fraid you might have,” he said, turning around and facing his most favorite customer, his static grin just stretching a tiny bit wider. “gonna have to report ya to the authorities.”

Toriel was wearing her reading glasses today. She wore them almost all the time lately, probably forgetting she had them on in the first place. But he liked the way they framed her face, how they reflected her charm in all the right ways. On her arm, she carried one of the shopping baskets, and always he had to marvel at that, seeing the dreaded tower of stacked baskets that by now had reached the very ceiling. But she had never told him her secret.

“Oh my. Well, you would have to catch me first!” She chuckled, hand placed over her furry muzzle, her fur as white as the eggs she so liked buying from him. “I don’t mind being a goat on the run.”

“man, now you’ve goat to be kidding me,” he countered back. “guess you’ll be hoofing it before i even know it.”

“Well now! You herd it here first!  But I can’t let the law goat me down, you know.”

“i definitely goat ya for sure.” And he couldn’t help but let out a chuckle of his own, feeling a sort of fuzziness that was only reserved for those with skin and fur. But it was all just a matter of perspective really. “just hope ya don’t forget me while you’re on the lamb.”

“Oh, not to worry. I can guarantee that I will miss you a skele-ton!”

There was a loud thud of something heavy hitting the floor in a corner of his store – to be specific, it was like the weird plop of a gallon of milk being thrown to the tiles in frustration – and Sans didn’t need to turn to know it was that same guy who just seemed to really like milk.

“I can’t focus on finding the right milk this way with all these puns!!! I’m sick I know it!! But let me live!! I’ll have to go to the bread aisle next if this keeps up…”

Toriel heard the muttering too, and a red blush coated her pure white fur. “Oops, perhaps we have overdone it a little this time, my friend.”

“no sweat. these jokes never get old, unlike some other things if ya get me.” He heard the groan from back in the corner. “by that i mean things like milk.” Another groan. “just wanted to make that clear.”

But right, that was probably enough pun wars for the day. Toriel was handing out her items for Sans to scan – which was really just her reaching for the scanner to do so herself. Was real nice of her to do this part for him. She could scan those eggs and bread like a real pro. Maybe he really should think of hiring.

“I missed you earlier today, it seems. The sign said you had to go somewhere? Oh, but now I’m just being nosy.”

“hey, i got nothing to hide from ya.” He leaned back against the counter, counting out all the eggs that she was meticulously checking one final time before purchase. “just had to do my side job. no biggie.”

“I had no idea you had so many responsibilities!”

“yeah, don’t like to brag though.” He placed his skull in a gloved hand, leaning down so that Toriel could seem even taller to him. It was fun to do. “playing truancy officer doesn’t exactly pay the bills.”

He didn’t have to say much before she was already figuring out just what he meant. That was the thing about miss teach here. She could read between the lines so well sometimes, that he had to make sure to play his cards just right. With careful handling of a certain box of pasta in her hand, she quietly scanned that one too before continuing to speak.

“I wanted to reach out to her home, but no one answers the phone. And she never explains about it much either.” A sigh, but not out of weariness. Only worry. Never had he met anyone who genuinely worried about all kids like this, no matter what they did. “Did Susie look okay to you?”

“just the usual, putting up the mean girl act.” He cracked his knuckles, the kinda thing that would send looks of disgust from across the room, but it only made Toriel crack a little smile of her own. “she’s a good kid though. just needs someone looking out for her.”

And then, that made him think a little more on that. “by the way, how’s your kid been doing, teach?”

Another pause, once again, this time holding up a box of chocolates, the real rich kind. The kind that just made one’s teeth hurt by just looking at the packaging. “They miss their brother so very much.”

Sans got the feeling all too well.

His phone vibrated again, and it was by instinct to reach for it, to swipe at the screen with his thumb and see what it was. Oh, but this time, he could open the app. The skull-and-bones cackled with glee as he could go to his list of emails, finding the string of capitalized letters and strange font use like an old friend.

[SPAM 4: S25 KAS] Re: failed kr0mer funds transfer Please contact me pleabse contact HELP

Nothing that unusual. But, why was it working now? He definitely needed a new iBone at his point. (That joke had been a stretch, he wasn’t proud of that one honestly.)

Just as Toriel was packing up her purchases in a slightly worn but still sturdy reusable shopping bag, she had seen the email light up on his phone. She chuckled. “Oh, haha! Looks like you goat mail!” She then paused, tapping her fingers together. “That was a very bad one, my apologies.”

“hm, don’t you mean…very baaaad?” Okay, so that put a strain on his non-existent vocal cords, but it got the old lady giggling and chortling, and maybe even a little snorting too.

“Haha, it certainly was indeed!”

“Oh my god can we please move the line already. I can’t keep carrying these on my head all day.”  A cat-like monster with orange-like fur and a depression-like face was standing behind Toriel. He was struggling with carrying a bunch of ice cube packs on his head, the water already dripping down the sides of his head and onto his pants.

Toriel instantly hurried, grabbing her bag with hardly a blink, but not before giving Sans a wave. “I must be getting back home anyways. See you tomorrow!”

Sans waved back at her, shooting her one last wink. He was punned out, so he settled with a “see ya, teach.”

As for the weird email he got, well, he could always check it once he got home, and once this cat in front of him was moist-free.

Not like he was gonna actually open it anyway.

It had been a long day at work for him, and not much happened after Toriel left – nothing except for when he talked with that kid of hers when they had stopped by, for a little bit.

And what they talked about was…

Well, it wasn’t that important to think back to anyway. As long as the kid brushed their teeth, didn’t catch any colds, or ate past their daily amount of chalk nutrients, they should be fine. At least, that was what he kept telling himself.

Well, if he ignored that question about his brother at least.

But just when he was tired of blocking the entrance to the confusion of his customers, Sans decided to call it quits and head for home, which was just five steps away. It was always a rough commute, but sometimes one had to make sacrifices for keeping food on the table.

But before he could even put his hand on the doorknob, the windows inside so dark, the sounds inside so faint, his phone did something that it had never done before.

It rang.

Sans was very, very still.

His ring tone was also a fart noise.

So the phone would ring with a string of farting noises, one that played the Christmas carol, all in perfect tune. It was hilarious, but he usually never got to hear it.

And in his pocket, his phone was happily farting away, like it was having the time of his life.

He wished he could feel the same.

Underneath the red roof of his porch, Sans reached for the phone, gazing at the dark screen to show that someone was calling. It had no picture and no number. Not even an ‘Unknown’ to go with it. Just blank.

But it kept ringing – well, it kept farting. The kind of thing that would make a kid get into a laughing frenzy. He was envious.

“so this, huh?” he said to no one. Hopefully no one. It would be better if it was nobody at all.

He answered it, and the funny noises stopped. He expected to hear nothing but garbage at the other end of the line. That was just how things should have been. He put the phone to his skull, to the place where ears usually were.

It should just be trash. Nothing but that.

And instead, he heard a voice.

…

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HOW LONG

IT HAS BEEN.

Chapter Text

In this part of Queen’s mansion, few of the men inside would wander through.

Late at night. It had to be late at night. Except if it was too late, he’d get sleepy. So about… mid-evening was good enough? It was good enough. This was no 3 AM infomercial he had to shoot for (and yes he had recorded exactly such infomercials, when he used to be a…when he used to be...)

There were the emails. Spamton’s special, special emails.

His room in the mansion was dark, the lights to it having been cut off long ago. The day he was to leave, he hadn’t been able to take anything with him. There was a time and date he had to honor, and he was an honest man! But all he remembered was blackness within this very room before waking up face-first in a back alley, the neon lights piercing through his porcelain skull.

So he had to go back. To the computer he had left powered on in the corner, to the old advertisements that had been hung on the walls with his name on them. To the notes upon notes that he had taken from that voice – to the phone that stayed on its handle, waiting, waiting for him.

Those notes were all covered in symbols, all static – but the method was tried and true. The method worked.

Until it suddenly didn’t.

Mutter, mutter. He crouched as he looked around, shaking, waiting, being patient as always. The computer next to him was droning, was slightly crackling, from overheating? This is what happens when one clicked a few too many links but that was his job that was his job that WAS HIS JOB, MIKE.

All these damn emails.

They all start to blend together after a while. All part of the job. It happens.

He once hated that job so much. So much. In a sudden fit, he slammed his tiny, miniscule fists into the floor, making the computer monitor shake, making the phone shiver – but it didn’t fall off the hook.

“I DON’T WANT TO BE THE E_MAIL GUY AGAIN!”

How he hated having to go back.

Back then, back then, back then he had to toil away at the keyboard and try to sell through as few words as possible. The emails. The emails that the Lightners wouldn’t even look at, wouldn’t know they existed. Because even when he wrote down genius lines, that damn filter would just throw it all to the trash. THE TRASH.

“Still on the old grind?” they used to say to him, all those other buddies of his. Those same ones with the same jobs, except they had banners to the side, they had promoted blog posts on the newsfeed, they had video ads. The Lightners didn’t ignore them, and there was always the stray click for them. Such a question was so innocuous and so nothing and so stupid that he was always ready to tear off his own weakly-soldered head at the sound of it.

OF COURSE HE WAS. HE WAS NEVER OFF THE GRIND. SPAMTON NEVER HAD A DAY OF GRINDLESSNESS. YA GOT THAT THROUGH YOUR THICK HEAD, MIKE? NOT ALL OF US HAD THE CUSHY LIFE OF HOSTING VIDEO TUBE ADS THAT WERE UNBLOCKABLE ON THE T.V. LIKE SOME PEOPLE HERE.

But good ol’ G would just smile back, a smile that said, ‘Hey, you know it!’

Each smile made him want to die a little more.

The computer’s fans went haywire, sounding like an airplane about to take off. (He had tried a little side venture into crypto-mining, but his own patented currency never sold). It still took a certain panache to write a really good email. Heck, all those people you’re blasting away those emails too should be paying you for getting the damn things. And!! If things go like they were supposed to!! Then they would! That’s how the world worked!

That’s how it was supposed to work.

All you had to do is get them to click a link. Maybe a second one for extra measure.

It’s good to gain a little trust from who you’re selling to, right?

But the internet was down. Was cut off. Kaput.

None of these beautiful things he’s written could even be sent.

So they hung there in the list in front of him, taunting him, all so lifeless. But the thing was, those weren’t why he was here in the first place.

Emails were a comfort, a necessity, an addiction, but he had been busy digging through the mess of his notes, of his BIG AUTO SALES flyers, of his receipts upon receipts of once successful TRANSFER 2 ME, and it was all junk. One man’s junk was another man’s treasure, as they say! Except this was always junk and would stay junk.

But he had to find the number.

He had to find their number.

The black phone was waiting there, on the little table, silent. They promised they would call him.

Did they call him before? While he had been forced out? He wanted to stay he wanted to stay but they wouldn’t let him?! It had been so difficult to come back and now that he was here why won’t they call him why won’t they call him??!

So he had to find their number, just in case. They had given it to him once they had said they would help the NUMBER #1 RATED SALESMAN THEY HAD MADE HIM THAT THEY HAD AND NOW THEY STOPPED.

What did he do wrong?

Even his old friends, those old leeches were jealous of his successes. He crawled to the phone, debating, pondering, praying. This was the only phone they would call on. They wouldn’t take any other number. If he disconnected it, brought it back to his home IN THE DAMN TRASH, would it still work? What if they called him while the phone was off the hook? No, he couldn’t risk it. He had to wait for the call. Or find their number. They had given it to him once. Find their number.

He flicked his eyes to the computer screen, to the list of emails, and saw the bolded letters, GET FANCY! 20% OFF ALL SUITS, LIQUIDATION SALES UP NOW. Yes. Yes, he once had fancy suits too… So many of them. He’d buy so many of them, one for each day of the week! Throw that money away, because he was never in it for the money!!

But now his suits were grease-stained, eaten through by Maice, so much that he had to fend them off himself with his tiny, puppet hands! But this was his property!! He bought it with what he earned!

“Excuse me.”

And why shouldn’t he have a fancy suit again?! The whole nine yards, complete with sequins and embroidered with his favorite year, all down the sleeves and on his tie. If someone, anyone, just showed him a bit more…generosity… then he could find his way back! If they could just call him back!

“Pardon me.”

He could do it again! He could see himself in the lights! In the posters that used to have his smiling face plastered all over the walls! Yes, he could be a REAL BIG S-

“You’re not allowed in here anymore.”

He turned around from his fetal position on the floor, shivering away a little madly (maybe a tiny bit gladly). His glasses caught the light, making himself blind for a moment. “H-HUH?”

One of the Swatchlings, buff as ever and filling out the doorway to his once-room, was staring at him, a broom held in his wing-like arms. (Arm-like wings?) “You’re still on eviction notice.”

Oh.

That’s right. He was still poor. And no one liked a poor man.

But Spamton G. Spamton was no quitter! So he uncurled himself, stood up tall and straight like a real, REAL honest man… and then got down on his knees and clasped his hands together in prayer, squealing out in a high pitch, “LET ME STAY! OKAY???? [[Show a little love to your old pal]]!”

A pause too long from the other, before he said, “Hey, look-”

“I JUST NEED [[5 minutes of your time]]! ANYTHING YOU NEED?! [[Used Cars!! Weight Loss Shakes!! DVDS And More!!]] SHOW SPAMTON [[A Little TLC]]!!”

The Swatchling barely flinched as he walked up to him. “Come on, buddy. Let’s go.”

If there was only an audience to see Spamton at his lowest, at his very life at the bottom of the so-called dumpster he didn’t want to go back to, then maybe he’d get a little pity – in the shape of a few bills.

He just needed a way to get by again.

But even after much begging and crying and whining, (and…maybe a little tooting…) he only succeeded in making the Swatchling look very uncomfortable with the whole thing, as well as succeeded in making himself feel a tiny bit more embarrassed than he usually was. But he was a salesman. Feeling embarrassed should have been second-nature to him! It was all part of the job!

The buff butler picked him like a stale loaf of bread he had found on the ground, held him underneath one arm, and walked right out of that room.

“The internet has been down, you know. It’s not like you could use most of those things inside your old room anyway.”

Way to kick a poor little puppet man while he was down.

But once they were back out into what passed for light here, the Swatchling stopped in his tracks. He even dropped poor old Spamton to the ground, ignoring the small dial-up noises he made from the pain. “Oh Queen, I was just cleaning up here. Please let me know how I can assist you.”

Oh sweet merciful God can’t he catch a break here.

He made the mistake of shifting his eyes just a bit more, caught the familiar varnish of blue before turning away. Memories of burning searing pain resurfaced. Almost comforting, if one thought about it.

“IDK I Was Just Like Passing Through Here. (Regal Laughter). But By The Way You Got Any Of Those Little Cakes From The Café Left?”

He couldn’t dare look! He couldn’t!! But a salesman always uses everything he had at disposal, so with eyes still dizzy from the sudden drop to the floor, he raised his head…

…and was promptly met with a stiletto to the face.

“Oh Hey Didn’t See You There.” Spamton could understand that, since right now the point of her heel was very much just against his right eye. It was lodged in his eyeglasses, which were flashing pink and yellow in a hyperventilating panic. “Okay Hold Still Don’t Get Anything On Me.”

She wrenched her foot right out of his head, cracking one eye piece and then stomping on it like a wretched bug. It was hard to tell if it was on purpose or not, because she just went back to standing like nothing had happened. She sipped at her martini glass that she was prone to carrying around for some reason. “So What Are You Doing In My House.”

Her rocket-powered chair floated behind her, its flames from the engine literally burning a hole in the plush carpets of her mansion. Several Swatchlings were patting away the flames to minimize the property damage that was occurring. It floated several feet in the air, several feet higher than Spamton was in total height, so yeah it made sense that she didn’t see him when she jumped off it.

With a crackly cough, another small seizure that was just routine these days, and the good ol’ salesman smile, he lit up as he faced Queen. His broken eyeglasses would just help make his sincerity shine through! “HEY THERE [[Hochi mama]]-”

“Seriously Though Didn’t I Kick You Out?”

Uh oh he was dying out here. I’m dying out here!!

“Like Maybe I’m Mistaken Except I Have The Intelligence of a Computer and The World Wide Internet  Combined So I’m Thinking No I’m Not Wrong.” Her face lit up like the neon lights of the city, in lurid red, in huge capital letters of LMAO. “You’re Not Supposed To Be Here.”

“UH-” Spamton froze up, and was so close to just shut down then and there but NO. He didn’t get to where he was by being a quitter! And if that was true, maybe he needed to rethink some of his life choices then. “I WAS JUST IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD [[Shooting b-ball with my homies]]!! AND I WAS JUST-” Oh god he was flubbing and a salesman shouldn’t!!! Flub!! But he was fast running out of filler already. “JUST- A LITTLE….HOMESICK?? [[I'm Coming Home for Christmas]]!!”

The red lights on her gargantuan head lit up again, this time in repeating marks of ?????.

Then she laughed, a royal laughter, so royal it would knock one’s socks off on just how royal it was. The kind that one could see in movie films online for FREE JUST CLICK HERE except no one could because everything was down, down gone down the drain.

He may have lost himself there for just a moment.

“Okay That’s Funny But Don’t You Have Another Place You Could Like Crash At.” She was smiling so happily, always on the verge of spilling her drink, which would also set the plush carpet on fire if she wasn’t too careful. And she rarely was but she was royalty so that was okay.

Though, maybe more royal than she used to be…

“I KNOW, QU-QUEEN! I GET WHAT YOU’RE SAYING LOUD AND CLEAR. BUT MAYBE. MAYBE YOU COULD HUMOR YOUR FAVORITE SALESMAN AND [[Have time for a quick survey?]]”

She was still smiling, which was a good sign. Except. Maybe not. She always smiled. And she was already looking away at something in the meantime, at a small flashy screen she had in her hand- Oh she was playing her mobile games again. But wait, how…?

“Sure Thing Honey Thank You That’s Very Impressive,” she said as she sipped at her drink again, spilling half of it since she was so distracted. “Very Cool Of You. But Why Were You In That Room That’s Not Your Room?”

A small panic, but just a little bit! He wasn’t gonna sweat and mess up his trash-stained suit, no sir! “LOOK. SOMETIMES YOU GOTTA SHOOT A FEW THINGS AT THE MALL TO SEE WHAT STICKS, YOU KNOW? A REAL BRAINSTORMING SESSION. [[Synergy is the Way of the Future]]!! AND SEE WHAT COMES OUT OF IT. AFTER THE SHOOTING. [[Like and Subscribe for More]]!!”

“Oh I See Yes That’s All Well And Good Just Um.” At this, Queen took another deep sip of her Mountain Dew™- flavored battery acid – which was really just plain battery acid, and which the sight of made him more than a bit nervous! (He would never trust timeshares ever again). The monitor of her eyes flashed IDK. “I Don’t Think That’s How The Saying Goes.”

“WHAT?? NO I’M PRETTY SURE THAT’S WHAT THEY SAY. [[Just shoot ‘em all!! Shoot that hack, Mike!]]”

“Haha Well Okay.” She swirled her drink, looking a little bored. “So Like Can You Go Now. Or Should I Like. Summon The Guards And All That?”

“WAIT WAIT WAIT I GOT SOME INFORMATION [[For a Limited-Time Offer]]!” He was shivering. He was so cold. He couldn’t go back to that DUMP. But then again, it was probably better than acid…

“Oh Of Course I Will Gladly Hear What You Have To Say. (Lying).” She said so while waving at one of the Swatchlings whose feathers were less burnt from the fire of her chair. “Go Ahead I’m Listening.”

“REALLY!!!” He was screaming and begging again. He was going to be on his knees again and NO DON’T DO THAT. YOU’RE BETTER THAN THAT, SPAMTON!! HAVE SOME GOD-DAMNED DIGNITY!!

Queen turned back to him, giving him her full attention. Her face read LOL in bright, stark crimson. “Are You Talking To Me Or Someone Else I Can’t Tell.”

Oh, there he went, saying his angry, slightly murderous thoughts out loud. A bit of an old habit of his.

“JUST A CASE OF THE JITTERS, QUEENIE! HAD THEM SINCE THE [[The Great Crash of 1997]]!! BUT I’M JUST EXCITED TO TELL YOU WHAT I FOUND OUT. SO THAT I CAN GET A ROOF OVER MY HEAD THAT ISN’T MADE OF TIN!”

This was the best chance he had; most of the Swatchlings were still too busy dealing with her chair running on overclocked power, and Queen still had so much of her drink left to sip through unless she decided to just smash it up like she usually did. “I Mean A Roof Is A Roof Isn’t It?”

Silence. Anger. RAGE. But no, no, Spamton wasn’t like that!! A salesman like him would understand her. He would try to see through her point of view, so that she could then see through his. That was the classic give-and-take. That was a transaction, a DEAL.

So he told her, “LET’S MAKE A DEAL.”

She was speechless, mostly because her attention was going back to her phone again, but it was something! “You Really Like Those Deals Huh?”

Even if he detected a bit of sarcasm in her voice box, he plowed on ahead, looking up to her from his short, so short stature.

“BUT I GOT. THE WAY. I PROMISE.” He was shaking, chattering. This was a sign – the good ol’ Spamton G. Spamton shivers!! This meant he was about to hit the BIG ONE. “I JUST NEED TO GET PAST THE [[High-Quality Encryption]]! AND THEN I’LL HAVE IT AGAIN.”

“I’m Sorry You’ll Have What.” Queen had her earbuds in suddenly and was nodding away to a tune, taking out one when she saw him taking. “I’m Tolerating This Conversation As Much As I Can But There’s Only So Much I’m Willing To Do That.”

Perfect. Time for the sales pitch! “IT’S A WAY TO HELP THE LIGHT nERS! [[They have the light]] SALES TO KEEP THOSE [[Specil Hearts]] OF THEIRS SMILING BRIGHTLY!”

A lone, but intriguing little exclamation point lit up the face of Queen’s screen. She wasn’t even looking at her phone anymore!

“I GOT. THE SOURCE FOR THIS. I JUST HAVE TO FIND IT AGAIN. BACK IN MY ROOM.” He shivered again, remembering the grip of the black receiver in his hands, old-school. He always worked in the old ways, none of the fancy new tricks and gadgets of the newer century. Emails had been the newest thing he could handle, and it had been so much. But a phone… oh a phone would really let you connect with another soul.

And once before, he did.

“WE JUST GOTTA MAKE SOME CALLS,” he offered, eyes all dazzled. “NO INTERNET NEEDED. JUST A GOOD, RELIABLE NUMBER, AND DIAL AWAY. I STILL HAVE THE PHONEBOOKS FOR THE TOWN.” He nodded, knowing he had this now. “CALLS ABOUT HOW THEIR UNCLE NEEDS THEIR CHECKING ACCOUNT NUMBER, THEIR SOCIAL SECURITY, AND [[What is the name of your favorite elementary school teacher?]] JUST [[$2.99 a minute]] AND EACH LIGHt n3R CAN HAVE ALL THE DISTRACTION THEY WANT!! AND WE CAN RAKE IN THE [[kr0mer!]]” He rubbed his nubby hands together. “SO [[DEAL]]??”

Yes! That’s using the old noggin of his. And as they’d make calls, he could find the one he needed. He could find the one. He could find it. He could find them. He could-

“And How Will This Help Noelle?”

It was hard to see Queen’s face at that moment. She was too tall. Tall women were scary. Unreadable. Even when one had words literally written on their own blue metal faces.

“WELL. A FRIENDLY VOICE WITH A FRIENDLY ROBO-CALL!!” He shook again. “WE CAN EVEN. PUT IN. A LITTLE CHRISTMAS TUNE [[🎵 Jingle Bells! Jingle Bells! 🎵]] FOR HER WHILE SHE WAITS-”

“So She Just Sits With The Phone And Doesn’t Even Get To Do Anything With It?”

Spamton was getting nervous. That was in the salesman’s blood, but this was too much nerves. The kind of nervousness that made one want to gnaw at a phone wire and hope to feel a little shock at the end of it.

“SHE DOES…GET TO USE IT!” he argued weakly. “BECAUSE…PHONES ARE MEANT FOR TALKING???” He started to sweat. “A-AND. WE CAN TELL HER. THAT WE GOT WHAT SHE NEEDS! [[Feeling a little lonely tonight?]] TELL HER THAT SHE CAN TALK TO THEM AND ALL SHE HAS TO DO IS PUT IN THOSE [[3 digits on theb4ck]] AND THEN-”

Queen threw her half-filled glass right at his face.

“[[[[#!#$%$$#^&!@$%^$]]]]”

He knew from experience that battery acid was painful. Almost as painful as the soul-sucking dread of failure! Except no this was especially bad and he was now crying. Why did this have to happen to him a second time oh god.

It was even worse that there was a small explosion when the glass broke on him. So he was also a bit on fire, too. This was much worse now.

What was nice of her was that she waited for him to stop screaming and running around in circles, even as Spamton ran into the walls a few times to get both the acid and fire off him. He didn’t know how much time had passed, except that eventually the pain was stopping, and he didn’t have the energy to run around anymore, soon just lying spread-eagle on the carpeted floor.

This was not his biggest moment.

“Noelle Has Been Using Those Searches Of Hers. Every Day. In The Morning Before School. In the Night Before Bed. The Same Ones. Sometimes Slightly Changed. But Still Essentially The Same.” Queen stomped over to Spamton, heels grounding the glass once again beneath it. He could barely see past her legs. She was way too leggy. Why did she get to have LEGS?!

“Unless Your Phone Call Is Going to Help Her Find The Answers To Her Sad And Lonely Searches.” Another pause, and he thought he heard something really seething in, something so impatient that he wasn’t sure which was up or down anymore. Though that may have had to do with the acid being in his eyes a little bit. “I Don’t See The Point Of Any Of It. She Will Just Hang Up. She Won’t Even Be Able To Go Online To Distract Herself.”

No, he didn’t care. He didn’t care. He didn’t care. He just wanted to check back and find that one number!

WHO CARES WHAT SOME LITTLE GIRL WANTS?!!

Then, big burly arms took hold of him with tender and loving care???

“I heard you needed my services, Queen. I assume this is the issue that needs being dealt with?”

That smooth and silky voice. That dashing blazer. Those complimentary colored-glasses that he wore! He blinked past his still-kinda burning vision, seeing how a different Swatchling was carrying him, like a stale loaf of bread again, albeit slightly toasted this time.

Wait. Those glasses. God damn was this a stroke of bad luck. “HEY THERE [[Compadre]]!!” he said with ecstatic dread, acid burning what remained of his throat. Always so stingy. “SO GOOD TO SEE YOU [[All alone on a Friday night?]]”

Swatch did not look at him. But one had the impression that he closed his eyes, still covered by his glasses. “It is not Friday.”

Queen was laughing again, hand on her hip, smiling as she always did. “Thanks Bro Take Care Of That For Me Okay?”

Swatch did a small bow, one wing-arm placed over his chest, while the other still held Spamton up, his grip strong. “Of course.”

“And Look. Spam Man Or Whoever.” Queen wasn’t even facing Spamton anymore though she still smiled away. “I’d Love To Keep Talking Deeply Painful Nonsense With You But I’m Gonna Run Out Of Time To Do My Dailies Okay?”

She had the phone in her hand again, playing annoying music and a whole lot of other noises that were like the crushing of many…sweets, and such. Whatever the hell that sounded like. Maybe some yelling too? What game was she even playing? “And Then Like. You Know. I Gotta Start Over Again So I Can’t Really Stop. I Haven’t Missed A Day Since Launch And I’m Not Gonna Start Now.”

Spamton hacked out some of the acid, amazingly none of his spittle getting on Swatch’s pristine shoes. “BUT?? THE INTERNET?? HOW??”

“I Jailbroke My Phone So I Can Play It Even While We’re Offline.” She wagged a finger. “Can’t Miss a Single Day.”

Then she waved him off. “Anyway Never Come Back I’m Gonna Go Wreck Your Old Room Now. I Also Gotta Pull On This Banner I Need This Unit You Don’t Understand.”

Spamton barely had the strength to even cry, dragged around by the elegant Swatch, eyes directed towards his door where he used to have such dreams, such hopes, such money!

“WAIT!!” He finally shouted, long after he was taken through the mansion, taken past the café where he used to spend his free time at, buying all the food on the menu because of all his disposable income – now back to zero. He stretched out his arms. “WAIT!!! I NEED TO CALL THEM!! I WAS SO CLOSE!! I CAN BE THE [[1000^TH caller]]!! IF YOU JUST GIVE ME A [[Fair Deals]]!!"

“For old time’s sakes, can we make this… a little less painful?” Swatch spoke with debonair, showing not even a hint of annoyance as Spamton was literally screaming in his ear. “You used to be so valued. Let’s keep such memories intact. I’ll even let you keep those glasses this time.”

Spamton could hardly listen. He was desperate. They said they would call him soon. But he had to be waiting by the phone. He had to be waiting by the phone. What if he missed it? That’s why he needed to find their number JUST GIVE HIM A CHANCE HE WAS SO CLOSE TO BEING THE-

BIG-

“I NEED TO CALL I NEED TO CALL I NEED CALL ME CALL ME-”

And then he was thrown right back into the dumpster. CLANG! his head went against the metal, only for the lid to close on him when he fell right inside.

“My apologies,” spoke Swatch, patting his feathered hands together to rid himself of the dirt and acid.  Or it at least sounded like it, going from the muted noise vibrations from outside Spamton’s new dumpster house. “I’m just so used to taking out the trash. No hard feelings. Do not come back ever again. Please remember you are also banned from the Color Café.”

Footsteps, but also something else, when one thought their voice would travel nowhere, except the alleyway amplified all noise. “You crooked salesman.”

Spamton stayed in that refuse, lying on the floor of it, trying to think back to those good times.

The lights of Cyber City were always so bright and never-ending. The kind of lights that shone right through your windows and stabbed themselves straight into your skull and also kicked your ass when you were trying to use the damn crosswalk during rush hour. Maybe even mug you a little while you weren't looking.

It’s no wonder Spamton once loved this city.

Being tiny had its benefits which included… finding maybe a cheese wedge that was bigger than you. That kind of thing could keep you fed all night! But then you had to also fight the Maice for them, and Spamton, poor ol’ Spamton… he was so afraid of them.

After another beating, he hobbled away to the Trash Zone, where refuse like him spread out as far as he could see. The neon lights shone among the discarded, coated the wet puddles that he slipped in every time, and…highlighted Trashy the Trash Can.

Yeah, he just, never left this place apparently.

“Hey there! It’s everyone’s favorite guy, Trashy!! Heya, pal!!”

Spamton shivered, coughed, did all he could to not look at this freaking guy. “NO.”

Trashy kept waving long, gangly arms, kept waving his hovering, gangly eyes. “Oh, come on, pal! Don’t tell me you like that Nubert guy more!”

“AT LEAST NUBERT HAS STANDARDS!” Spamton shouted out before he ran away, half-crying.

That wasn’t the number 1 salesman1997 way. The old Spamton would have offered Trashy a handshake, would have treated him like an old pal, would have gotten some delicious, juicy kr0mer out of him. But instead he had yelled, had clashed out, and ran for his only semblance of a store that was in this dump.

He had to at least feel like he used to be something. Something…big…. Something…

And when he opened the door to his little storefront, to its one-room that was five feet wide with a brick wall facing him, to its small darkness that he was so used to, to the phone in the corner that was-

…

…

…The phone…

How did it get here?

Spamton looked at the thing; its small, classic rotary style, placed neatly on top of a little table, the very same table that had been in his room. Those had been his instructions, keeping that phone in its own space, where the lone lamplight would shine over it. Like now. Just like now.

He crawled over to it again, like before. Debating it, pondering it, praying to it. Like he would always do.

It rang.

It didn’t seem real at first, but that wondrous tone. That chirp of its ring, that sound of someone reaching out to him, to him, to HIM, and how he had craved that connection. It echoed within the small space of his trashy storefront, the garbage piles reeking up the place, the chitter of Maice eating away at the plastic and wiring that made up everything.

It rang once, twice, then-

Spamton dove for the phone, nearly pushing it off its table NO DON’T DO THAT!! A flailing of his hands to keep it intact, but to not accidentally push too hard on the handset and hang up NO THAT WOULD BE TERRIBLE! But he kept it there. He kept it there.

A third ring. A third ring was too long. A salesman should have answered on the first one.

He lifted the handset to his face, his other hand gripping the table as if for dear life. He was shaking, he was having a heart attack.

“…Can anyone hear me?” he called out, his voice stripped of everything, left to shiver by itself. “Please. Please help.”

Nothing. Not even static.

But there was no dial tone, not yet at least. Not yet. Not yet. They didn’t hang up on him yet.

But they were going to.

Spamton was sweating again. He edged his face into that receiver, trying to get anything, anything at all. A cough, a whisper, even heavy breathing. He was going to drown in this silence.

He was going to drown he was going to drown to die die why don’t they care about ol’ Spamton anymore??!

He cried into the receiver, screamed into, begged endlessly, “I AM IN [[IMMESURABLE PAIN]] [[[I CANT STAND IT ANY LONGER]]].”

A mistake. A salesman shouldn’t yell anything except deals, except prices. But all he could spill out was his very own heart.

“PLEASE! TALK TO ME! TALK TO YOUR [[Number 1 Rated Salesman1997]]. I’VE DONE EVERYTHING YOU ASKED! THE ADS. THE BIG CARS. THE EMAILS THE EMAILS ALL THE EMAILS. I HAVE NO ONE TO SEND IT TO. IT’S ALL GONE!”

Still quiet on the other line, so quiet. No dial tone yet.

“IT’S ALL GONE DOWN THE [[DrainDrainDrainDrainDrainDrain]]. ABANDONED. LIFELESS. HELP ME! I THOUGHT WE HAD A DEAL!!”

✂︎✌︎ 👎︎☜︎✌︎☹︎📪︎ ✡︎⚐︎🕆︎ 💧︎✌︎✡︎📬︎✂︎

Oh. There it was.

The sound of Heaven.

He stayed still, so worried he will break away from this dream. Because what if Spamton was still in that dumpster, knocked out from before, still covered in the sting of battery acid juice and arson? What if none of this was real?

But the voice continued, with that wondrous noise, the kind that slithered inside one’s fragile little puppet head and gave, and gave, and gave.

It always knew what to say.

“I… I DID FIND IT! YES! IN THE…. IN THE BASEMENT!!” Spamton wiped at his sweaty face with a rattling hand. “IT WAS THERE. I SAW IT. [[Heavenly, Beautiful, Inspiring]] BUT…” And he paused, worried again that soon he would hear that dreaded dial tone. “IT WOULDN’T DO ANYTHING.”

He waited. He heard. The lights in his eyes blinked, flashed, like the neon lights of the city.

“HAVE TO BE… THE [1000^th Customer]]?!! BUT NO ONE BUYS ANYTHING FROM ME ANYMORE!!”

More. More. It fed him, the holy words that only its very chosen could understand.

“THEY WILL…BE HERE…” Spamton repeated, shaking. “BUT HOW LONG? HOW LONG?! HOW LONG UNTIL I [[Die]]? WHAT WILL HAPPEN? WHAT ARE YOU SELLING?!”

He was questioning.

“I…I didn’t mean to..” A voice of a child, someone who hadn’t yet seen the light for a brief moment. “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry…”

Then he heard it. How it spoke to him, only for him.

How the emails had been sent.

Spamton’s mind whirred. “HUH???”

Then he saw it.

It was on another call like this that the voice had told him about the basement, underneath the mansion, old and rotting, relics of an ancient past. Nothing like Cyber City, with its flashy lights and high-tech. Ruins that crumbled around him, made of ancient stone, with vines that clung around the pillars, everywhere.

And among all that ancient trash was that body. That suit of armor, that creation full of hopes and dreams.

Dreams that turned to dust at the reality, hopes that became nothing in the end. But the voice told him of its potential.

Still holding the phone to his ear, he looked at that creation again, was at that ruined place again, underneath miles of stone where nothing could be heard.

“I WANT,” he said with a shudder. It was terrifying, this feeling. But it was better than all the failure that had been eating away inside him. “I WANT…TO FEEL…”

That’s right. He could finally…be it.

They promised him. And they don’t go back on their promises.

Just like so many times before, when he went to that basement late into the night, dropping to his knees, hands in supplication, he prayed before the body. Its colors were muted, but he could see the potential. He could see it.

It was right here. But he still needed that [[DEAL]].

“I NEED…THE TRANSFER…” He swallowed, still listening to that voice. “WHEN WILL THEY…”

And that body, in his mind, in his memory, in his very storefront where no barriers existed – it leaned over, as if it was about to grant him a kiss, a kiss that would set him free, that would make him something again. Yes. What he had been waiting for his whole life! His whole miserable life!

The head of that body, which was full of hopeless dreamers, of wants and regrets, it swallowed him up, until all that he was left with was darkness.

He couldn’t see.

I can’t see.

Icantseeicantseeicantseeicantsee

[[I CANT SEE]]

He dropped the phone, heard it clang, and still its voice slipped out. And. It was clearer now. Words that could be understood by even the undeserved, by the unbelievers.

.

.

.

Aren’t you excited?

.

.

.

[[I CAN’T THINK I CAN’T FEEL I WANT TO FEEL LIKE A]]

.

.

.

Aren’t you happy?

.

.

.

And something wrapped around his neck, like a poor heart on a chain.

.

.

.

You’re going to be free.

Chapter Text

This was off Sans’ normal route today, all things considered. Because, well, he wasn’t really the type to do any house calls. It ate up into his loafing around time, after all. He was very passionate about it.

But he made exceptions for a few of his good buddies.

It was a quaint little lane of houses, some of them with the traditional barbecue grills out on their front lawn, while others had their eyeballs pressed against the glass. You know, just normal suburban home stuff. But his friend’s home always had their own special brand of originality, with the way it stuck out of the ground like a giant worm, tilting its head to the left side, its housepaint a very dashing tone of deep gray.

Funny though. He always thought this house didn’t exactly fit his friend…at least not entirely. But who was he to judge?

He only had to rap on the door once before he heard the familiar, “What. What? WHAT?!”

Heh, he loved them. But, not exactly the one he wanted to speak with.

“just here to hear nobody,” he said, leaning against the doorframe. “if they’re around.”

And the thing is, they always were, of course.

“Ugh. Fine. Fine! FINE! Don’t move then. Okay?!!”

He nodded, knowing they couldn’t see it. Or maybe they can? Ya never know what people were hiding.

It was still pretty early in the day, Sans once again leaving his storefront closed, this time with more than a few customers inside. But one of them had been having the time of his life with his newfound appreciation for bread expiration dates, and another kept breaking his purchased eggs in his pants… Sans didn’t ask. He’d be back in a few hours anyway.

Then his friend spoke, in their…not-quite spooky voice, but soft, hiding just a hint of glamour in its tone.

“Oh, is that you again, darling? To think a nobody such as me would get visitors.”

Sans tried not to relax too much against the door, doing his best to give his undivided attention. But it was a beautiful day, with the birds singing just above him, and flowers… blooming somewhere, probably in a very specific shop. There was even a traffic jam out in the distance, as he could hear a symphony of honking that were in perfect tune with each other. Very nice. Someone’s directing traffic really well today.

“aw, you know i can’t resist ya,” he answered. Slippers shifted against the pavement as he turned his skull just a bit to look at the door. Still locked, still closed. “besides, ya still need your groceries delivered, right?”

He held such a bag of deliveries in his right hand. To the untrained eye, it just looked like an empty, wrinkled plastic bag that the wind tossed around easily. One had to look very closely to note the ghost sandwiches, the ghost soda, the ghost eggs, and the ghost milk that was in here – and all of them unexpired.

“Ah, well that makes much more sense now. You’re only doing your job, after all.” And beneath the glamour that couldn’t lift itself up, there was that sadness, that disappointment, so heavy that he wondered if his friend was lying on the floor right now. “You can leave it out on the doorstep then.”

“hm, think i should stick around though. ghost food…they got a lot of empty calories, you know. might fly away the moment i set it down.”

At that, he heard a chuckle, one that got his ego going a little. There was something nice about making someone laugh when you couldn’t even see them, letting you rely on sound alone. A good test to see if a joke landed or not.

“Now, beautiful, you know that’s not how it works.” Another laugh, still quiet, and he could imagine that they had lifted themselves off the floor right about now. “But I suppose I must give you a chance. You’re here for more than work.”

Sans shrugged – a habit that he couldn’t shake, even when the other person couldn’t see him at all. “to me, everything is work. gotta put the food on the table. solid food. like a good old-fashioned burger with a glass of ketchup. maybe some calcium pills on the side.”

He really could hear the face they pulled at his words just then. “Darling, you need to eat healthier than that! Don’t you care about your body at all?”

“fair. i’ve been told i’m just all bones.” He didn’t get much of a chuckle out of that one. Okay, okay. he should probably get straight to the point.

Gripping the bag handle tightly, he stood up, moving a little closer to the door. “ya also got some overdue librarby fees.”

A pause held between them, with only the gentle car honking to let them know that it was still rush hour.

“…Just how many jobs do you need?”

“told ya. food on the table. look at my bones.”

“I can’t see you!” Another pause. He didn’t hear anything else, but he could definitely sense a change in position at this point, like someone pressing their face against a door. “That’s how you always look!”

“i know. it’s tragic, ain’t it?”

A deep sigh. Unfortunately, they were just not his audience. But that was okay. Friends don’t always need to laugh at each other.

“how ‘bout a deal? if ya give back what ya borrowed, we can call it even. don’t gotta pay a dime. that and your record will go back to being squeaky clean.”

It was then he could tell that they hesitated. After all, anyone else would have leapt at the chance. Who else wants to pay an extra 5 bucks?

Still, it took them a while. It took them a long time, so long that even the cars’ honking eventually dimmed, leaving them with just the usual suburban quiet, where annoying dogs barked from the windows and kids screamed along with them.

“…It’s not something I can even use anyway, so I don’t know why I’m holding onto it.” Another sigh, this one full of drama and flair that Sans had to resist the urge to applause. “A fool I am, to hold onto such a dream. One moment, gorgeous. I’ll be right back.”

“hey, no rush, pal.” With one hand in his pocket, and the other still holding onto his ghost bag full of ghost necessities, he waited. He trusted them to come back, even as he felt a little guilty for putting them on the spot like this.

It was just, the responsibilities were weighing on him. His phone was weighing down his pocket, enough to make his shorts feel too loose. It hadn’t rung or vibrated at all since that call yesterday.

That call.

Right.

He must have fallen asleep by then, because he was woken up by the sound of the door clicking open, the hinges creaking, barely having seen any use. Made sense since ghost monsters usually didn’t need to ever open their doors to go anywhere. Walls meant nothing to them. Nice of his friend considering his feelings on the matter.

Even so, it opened slowly, the light from inside filtering through, falling onto the doorstep. Or? Maybe that was just them instead. It didn’t open all the way.

Through the slight crack of the door, an item appeared before him. “Here. Just take it.”

It was a little black floppy disk, and it was the most solid thing in front of him. He almost didn’t expect the retro look of it, but one can’t go wrong with the classics. There was no label on it, nothing to indicate just what exactly it was used for.

But he had a pretty good hunch.

“It’s not damaged or anything of the sort. And… I don’t even have a computer of my own to put it in anyway.” Another sigh, lighter this time. “I just… couldn’t bear to let it go.”

“s’no problem,” he said easily. And with the humility of a delivery man, Sans took the floppy disk in a mittened hand. “think only the librarby’s computers are old enough to even get this thing running. maybe should have borrowed that one too.”

“Oh, I tried, believe me.”

The door was just about to close when Sans stretched out his arm – the one that held his bag – right through the door crack. “whoa, hold up. still gotta make a delivery.”

“Ah, I nearly forgot…” Another pause, as if they were stunned. And maybe they truly were. “Let me just get-”

“nah, ya already gave me my payment.” Sans held up the floppy disk in his hand, giving a wink. “that was the deal remember. don’t gotta pay a dime.”

Friends don’t always laugh at each other’s jokes, but it was nice to give each other favors once in a while.

His friend gently took the grocery bag, the ghost bagels he had put in shifting a bit, along with the ghost pasta. Hopefully, they liked the ghost snail shell type.

“Are you sure?”

“hey, my word is bone.” He chuckled at that. “get it?”

And…oh, there it was. He got a little giggle out of them too. Maybe he was finally growing his fanbase.

He then carefully deposited the floppy disk in his oversized pocket. The door in front of him was slowly closing, already hiding the occupant behind it.

“I just… put so much of myself into it,” spoke his friend, again with that strange, dazzling glamour underneath. “All my dreams of what I could be. But it was silly of me. I suppose it will be erased anyway.”

Sans considered, eyes shut for the moment, hand still holding onto that disk. “if i can, i’ll try to make a another copy. sound good?”

And maybe his friend there was about to show something even more dazzling, if they could. Just sometimes, it takes a while before someone felt comfortable taking the stage. “Now, don’t tease me like that, darling..”

“who said i was?” And before his friend could ask on it more, Sans made his exit right then and there.

A disk in one pocket, and a phone in the other.

He still wasn’t sure where it all led to.

1997 had been his year. But not all good years start off with a bang.

The thing was, Spamton had been struggling. Oh, but all good salesmen had to struggle at least a little bit, didn’t they? It helps build character, after all. It taught humility. It taught you how to trust your instinct – your guts. If a salesman didn’t have enough guts, then how could he ever hope to close the deal?

At least, that was what the Addisons had told him, so long back.

“Give it time, my man!” said good old reliable Blue. He would always smile so brightly, the kind of smile that would reflect back the city lights, all dazzling and sometimes even flashing a neon pink. He had been setting up his new billboard up on the side of his store, one that flashed just like his smile, drawing the eye even if one could barely see the tea products it lit up, so bright it was. “You just gotta make a couple of cold calls first. Gets you on the ground running.”

“But…I have been calling?” Spamton would argue, but lightly. “And uh, heh, so few of them pick up! Even when they do… I don’t want to be rude and call during dinnertime, but they always hang up before I can even say much…”

 He didn’t want to question his peers. Just look how well they were all doing! Yellow Addison was already making bank with his snappy commercial runs, and Pink Addison was always selling out his wares, hitting it big with his keyword smithery. Each one had their specialty, but Spamton…. Oh, he was still finding his footing, so to speak. It was normal to struggle. It was necessary, right?

“Now, now,” spoke his friend once more. Again, that gleam of a smile, so much so that Spamton could barely see through it. It blinded his glasses, which made him reach up to wipe away at a stubborn smudge just near the frames. “Persistence is key.” And it seemed he would say more, but then turned right back on to make the flashy billboard sign be even flashier! Somehow.

“R-right…” Spamton nodded before turning away, still holding his plain glasses, the right earpiece a bit loose. It was well past its prime, but he had to tighten his belt lately, both literally and metaphorically… No splurges for a while, not until he had finally made it.

After all, it was only a matter of time, wasn’t it?

When he spoke with Orange Addision at the cyber grill that evening, she had not been much help either.

“You just gotta make a routine! Really helps you stay zen.”

Though seated next to each other at a booth, Spamton felt like it was hard to get her attention. On the table, she had what looked like a bulky, black box, but one that opened like a briefcase. It took him a moment to realize this was another laptop model, and just as he had gotten used to the older ones! But she was tapping away at the keys with barely any hesitation, and just like Blue, she kept on her winning smile. “I always get up at 7 AM, have my cup of joe, put on my blazer suit piece with the shoulder pads and then I feel like 100 percent! Can’t beat consistency.”

“Oh, y-yeah! I do the same… I get up early all the time! Practically at the crack of dawn!” What he didn’t mention was he did so because of the yowling of the Tasques that would prowl by the dumpsters near his apartment building. To be even more accurate, their screeching would wake him up at 4 AM most nights… they’d rattle that dumpster so much he was beginning to wonder just what they were doing and hoping he never had to find out.

“Good on ya, G!” She still wasn’t looking at him, smiling face rapt on her computer screen. He could see all sorts of colors reflecting off her sparkling white teeth, like a glorious rainbow. Orange had definitely been doing well lately, and was perhaps the most online-savviest of the Addisons. She had her ways, it was said – somehow always getting her ads to ‘pop’ as it were. Not just those on the sides of a website like with Blue, but one that really grabbed a Lightner’s attention, with flashing lights and some punchy copy to boot. “Early Darkner catches the money!”

Was that a saying? Spamton wasn’t sure, but he just smiled and nodded. She would know more than him anyway. “Just, um, I guess I haven’t been able to…connect with clients lately.” He fidgeted with his glass of fizzy soda, then looked towards the sole macaron that had been given as a complimentary gift for his patronage to the place. At least he wouldn’t go that hungry tonight… “Y-you got any advice for how to get the ball rolling, so to speak? Maybe I just keep calling at the wrong time…”

Orange Addison finally paused in her frantic typing, raised her head just a bit as she seemed to give his question some real thought… then turned to him with that same, rainbow-ified smile. “Just gotta give the customer what they want!”

Spamton blinked. “Oh, right! Of course!” He gripped the glass just a bit. “But, what do they want?”

“They want good deals, obviously!”

Right. Of course. Obviously! “But, how?” he asked one more time. “They always hang up-”

“Don’t let them!” She gave him a thumbs-up, while her other hand went back to typing. Her screen was filled with so many different little windows, some of them flashing, some of them taking up the entire monitor- impossible for anyone to turn away! “Just keep doing what you’re doing. You’ll get there with the rest of us. I guarantee it!”

Her voice was so full of glitz and spark, so slick with confidence, that it nearly made Spamton want to hit his face against the table until the sheer memory of it was out of his system. He held back though.

“Makes sense!” he answered instead, voice just slightly off-key. Of course it did. It was obvious. And he should know it by now. Like a real salesman would.

“Also,” she deigned to finally say next, and Spamton keenly listened, almost in awe that she was about to, possibly, say something new to him? “You’ve been doing those emails I told you about?”

Ah. Those.

“Yeah, of course!” he said, thinking back to his side-hustle (which was also failing). It was hard to hold back the sigh, but at least he was able to achieve that. “I send them out to the list when the phone calls won’t work! Just, getting back the revenue reports… it uh, seems they aren’t getting any clicks either? So…”

And that was when Orange laughed. It was a laugh that was not at all different from her usual laughter, but something about hearing it now struck right at home, making him feel so, so small.

“I’m sure you’ll get lucky, G. Just keep sending those out! Email blasts are guaranteed to net you a high click-through rate for this quarter. That’s what been said in the latest Ad Shot seminar held at Cyber Stadium last month!” Her hands went back to typing, to clicking, to selling, selling, always selling. “And the calls too! Give those Lightners all the works!”

Spamton could only nod and smile. If a marketing whiz like Orange was confident it would all lead to something someday, shouldn’t he feel the same?

When he got back home, the macaron had crumbled in his hands, barely leaving him any crumbs left to lick off.

.

.

.

After that, he just went back to his own routine, day after day, calling and calling, sending and sending, hoping to reach someone. So many names in the phone book, in the mailing list – at least one person here would want to listen to what he had to say, didn’t they?

He just had to work hard. That’s all there was to it!

Though he sent out those emails, from life-hacking tips to calls for generous donations to his bank account, the phone was something more solid in his hands. A bridge between worlds, almost. A more tangible way to connect with someone! The phone felt more comfortable for him.

Well, sometimes.

“Hello, am I speaking to a Mr. Icy Double E? Did I pronounce that correctly? Great! Now hold off on that screaming while I scream to you about the money you could be saving for your business!”

Click, followed by a dial tone.

A turn of the page. A dial of a new number.

“Good evening, ma’am! According to our mailing list, you’ve bought our ‘Biodegradable Pie Tins!’ I just wanted to check in with you if you would be interested in our other product-”

Click, followed by a dial tone.

A turn of the page. A dial of a new number.

“Guess what?! You’re the 100^th customer I’ve called today! Please stay on the line while I tell you the details of your fabulous new prize-”

Click, followed by a dial tone.

Hesitant. He was hesitant. But another turn of the page. You can’t quit while you’re ahead.

“HELLO!! Sorry for my loud tone but I’m just SO EXCITED to talk with you today!! Can you give me just five minutes of your time while I-”

Click.

Dial tone.

Dial tone. Dial tone. Dial tone.

It never ended.

And even when he kept going through the phone book, even when he thought he had the sales pitch down just right, even when he was sure, when he was so, so sure that the person on the other end of the line would listen to what he had to say-

They always hung up.

And so it went on for weeks.

.

.

.

Another outing at the cyber grill tonight. Another instance for one of the Addisons to cover his tab with a knowing smile. They never minded it, they would say. It was on the house! They knew how tough times were for poor Spamton.

It made the drinks taste so bitter when they did that for him.

“Caught your ads on my feed this morning, Orange!” spoke Pink. They crossed their legs and raised up their arm as they spoke. As all the Addisons did. A salesman tactic, to always have something to offer on hand, because every customer loved free samples. “Could barely avoid it at all! You’re working magic lately!”

“Thanks, Pink! I caught yours on my search today. Really hitting it with those keywords, aren’t you?”

“SEM is the way of the future! I’ll tell you the secrets after lunch. How about you, Blue?”

“I’m getting by. My banners give me those steady clicks, but I’m about to change it up with this latest campaign. Yellow is going to help me out with it actually!”

“That’s right! Video is all the rage now, and we thought…what about ads, but they’re like movies? The Lightners won’t be able to resist!”

Orange was smiling so wide at this discovery, she had to stop her typing – if for just a few seconds. “Get outta town! I need to hear all about this!”

Everyone was chatting away, nodding, laughing, collaborating. All of them in their prime, in the midst of their success stories that wasn’t going away any time soon.

And just when Spamton thought they would keep talking, resigned to sipping away quietly at his drink, one of them finally turned to him. It didn’t matter who. They all wore the same smile, spoke in the same tone, like they had the most exciting news that they just couldn’t wait to share with someone.

“How about you, G? Getting any luck in the telemarketing biz?”

“Oh, that’s right, G! And those emails? People are turning to email for communication nowadays!”

It was like a cruelly-laid trap they had set out for him.

Spamton had barely downed his all-ages beverage before he sat up straight, giving a smile of his own that, while didn’t match the brightness of his peers, at least showed that he had heart. And what was a salesman without his heart?

“Don’t you worry!” he said, tapping his fingers on the table, his smile making his cheeks ache with the strain. He wasn’t used to it, but everything took hard work. “You just watch! Because someday, I’m gonna be a big shot!”

A big shot.

Somehow, saying that felt… oddly invigorating. A big shot.

The group around the table had gone quiet. All of them stared at Spamton with their usual smiles, although maybe those smiles had changed. Just by a fraction, but he noticed it by their rigidness, by the slight change in their perpetually-closed eyes.

Their smiles were full of pity.

“That’s great, G! You’ll get your chance someday!”

“You got this, big guy! Knock ‘em dead!”

“You’re gonna hit this one out of the park with your calls someday! I guarantee it!”

Spamton nodded, not letting go of his drink, keeping on his own smile, even though it was the hardest thing he had ever done. “Once I make it big, drinks are on me next time!”

Their smiles still had that same pitying look.

And the macarons he had carried home, he just threw into a nearby dumpster.

.

.

.

Desperate.

He was getting desperate.

Even when the bills were getting stacked high for him, to the point that just looking at the numbers made his stomach queasy, he doubled down to focus on his work. The lights in the dingy office/one-room apartment of his had all been turned off, to save on electricity. (Which was ironic since literally everything in Cyber City, including the citizens, was electric). He went to his desk that he got fourth-hand from a pawn shop that had still been too pricey for his circuits. The cushion on his seat was already deflating, making him need to sit on his knees to keep steady. He could barely see the words on his computer screen, which was already in need of repair. But maybe, that was a blessing in disguise. He didn’t want to keep seeing all his failing taglines. And outside through his tiny porthole of a window, he heard the Tasques keep doing whatever they were doing in the dumpsters, the sounds as routine to him as his own breathing.

He kept trying his calls.

The phone cord had gotten absolutely tangled up by this point. The handle for his receiver was a little loose, and the rotary pad for his phone sometimes didn’t rotate all the way, not without a little push, not without a little shove and pull and please god don’t break on me now.

He was using that desperation to make all the cold calls he could.

“H-Hey there! Got a sec to spare with me? This is about savings you could get right now with your old Cungadero-!”

Click. Dial tone.

Again.

“Good evening! Sorry to ring you during breakfast but I have this limited-time offer for you that’s about to expire in 10 minutes! If you want to hear more, please press 1 now and state your credit card account info-”

Click. Dial tone.

Again.

“DON’T hang up! You’re about to become a winner today if you can name for me ALL of the ice cream flavors in the world just talk to me please talk to me-!”

Click. Dial tone.

He slid off his chair, falling to his knees.

What was he doing wrong what was he doing wrong what was it what was it.

Someone knocked on his door, but this wasn’t a friendly knock. It was insistent, impatient, and it threatened to push down his door if even an inkling of his voice were to seep out. So even when he wanted nothing to do more than weep, he kept his lips firm.

“Calling for a… G? You’re overdue on your rent! This is your third notice! You know what, I’m just gonna leave this under the door…”

He couldn’t say a thing. The embarrassment flooded through him, even more so as he saw that piece of paper slip across the floor, floating towards him like an ill omen. How pathetic. He could barely afford a full meal every night, let alone the rent at an already cheap place where he could hear the clanging of the dumpsters every single night every single night!

So maybe it was desperation again that got him to lift up that heavy phone-book, to make him once again go through the robo-calls that barely slipped through even to voice mail. A random page. A random number. One that he didn’t recognize but after a while, all the numbers start to blur. He couldn’t even be sure if he had already called this same number today.

But he dialed. His hand shook, and when the ringing stopped, he couldn’t hold it back any longer.

“HELLO SIR AND/OR MADAM I’D LIKE TO TALK ABOUT YOUR CAR’S EXTENDED WARRANTY YOU HAVE 20 DAYS TO APPLY OR YOURE CREDIT SCORE WILL-” Oh no why was he screaming like this? Why was he shouting so desperately?! And why couldn’t he stop?! “YOUR CREDIT SCORE IS AT RISK PLEASE TYPE IN YOUR SOCIAL SECURITY NUMBER AND YOUR DATE OF BIRTH YOU HAVE THREE MINUTES TO ACT NOW OR YOU’LL MISS OUT ON THESE DEALS FOREVER YOU’LL MISS OUT YOU’LL MISS OUT!!”

He stopped, the hand that held the phone shaking terribly. What had that outburst been all about? He’d messed up. He’d acted so stupid. He could still hear his own voice echo back to him from the force of his yells.

Something broke in him then. Tears left his eyes.

“Please…” he whispered, just one last thing before the person on the other line would hang up on him. It was inevitable, like the pop-up ads on his computer, like the blaring video banners on his feed. Unavoidable. What was it like to have success just by merely existing? “Please, help me. I need help.”

He waited for the dial tone to close that brief conversation. But instead, he heard something else.

A voice that answered him back.

Yes, 1997 had been his year.

The librarby was still open by the time Sans arrived, floppy disk safely snug in his hoodie pocket. Made sense, as it was basically still morning. He was just so used to establishments closing at random times of the day.

Also, he heard that this was the place to go and lick some books if, you know, you were into that kind of thing. But he had no tongue of his own, so he could only trust such information second-hand. There were a few monsters around as he went in, such as cool Jockington over in the Teenz-Own corner. The snake monster waved his only appendage at the skeleton.

“Hey there, grocery store man!” he greeted, stretching out erratically as he did so, like he always did when he spoke. “This ain’t the grocery store! That’s rad!”

“yup,” Sans agreed with him. He was such a cool kid. And right next to Jockington was a dog/cat monster who was currently licking the books in front of her. Yep, this was definitely the place to do that stuff.

He took another look around, finding one other monster with a nice smile, who was blocking the way to the second floor. Fair. Sometimes you just found yourself a really good spot and didn’t want to move for anyone’s convenience. He could understand that.

But he didn’t think he needed to go up the stairs anytime soon. Computers, to his knowledge, were always more down than up.

“Berdly, isn’t this a bit…uh, much?”

To his left, he heard a familiar voice – oh, right. The voice he’d hear occasionally in his store, mostly from the frozen section. Apparently, someone really liked to stare into the fridges there along with the weird milk guy. He wondered how she was holding up with no mist or sterile lighting in sight.

The girl’s antlers were the first thing to see, and also rather hard to miss. She was holding several books in her arms, along with a few more that were in her backpack, threatening to drag her back down to the floor. “I mean, it’s only one study session, after all…”

“Being overprepared is the key to success, my dear Noelle!” Oh, there was another voice he knew. Heh. He loved this guy. Always at the strategy guide section of his store, would wear a funny trench coat and hat as he tried to secretly buy them too. Fun kid. “But no worries, I will be speed-reading through these editions in no time at all!... Noelle, where’d you go?”

The bird boy was following the girl close behind, holding up his stack of textbook editions until they were well past his face. Such a stack threatened to overthrow Sans’ tower of hand baskets back at the store.

“You have too many of these!” the reindeer girl chided, but laughed as she did so, taking a few of the books from such an amazing tower in the making. “Here, though, I can’t really carry much more…”

Then once the blue bird could finally see, he switched over from Noelle to Sans, who was just standing there in the middle of the room, pink slippers clashing with the green of the carpet.

“hey.” Sans said. “’sup?”

He knew how these types worked.

At first, the bird had a bit of distrust in his gaze. Made sense, especially when one faced a spooky skeleton all the sudden. Kid needed a nudge, just a little one. So, Sans sweetened the deal with another great line of his.

“think i need some help.”

Berdly immediately dumped the rest of the books he was holding right onto little miss reindeer’s face. Hard to tell if she survived since Sans’ sight was filled with blue feathers right after.

“Someone in need of my help? Well, I’m always willing to lend my aid to those who appreciate this amazing repository of information and classics! Even if I must do so during my busy academic schedule!”

“hey, cool.”

“B-Berdly…!”

“just, uh, what about your friend there?”

And once the guy called Berdly moved back a bit, he could see that girl struggle with her double-load of books. But she was keeping it all together still, even as he knees trembled a bit from the weight, her hooves making a bit of a clopping scene.

“Noelle!” With clear concern, Berdly walked up to her, arms out… then gestured to the right towards a door. “Could you take all those to the computer room? I must help this patron out as part of my voluntary duties!”

Noelle was just able to slide her head past the shivering book tower, teeth gritted, and even her nose shining a furious, non-merry red. “Are you…serious…?”

“Oh, and be sure to get the computers near the back of the room too. Those get the least lag due to their closeness to the servers!” He nodded. “Don’t worry, I made sure to plan everything for our project! Though I know my helpfulness is nothing new by now.”

“Sure…whatever you say….” Noelle struggled on her last word, but she dutifully followed through, shuffling towards the door, hand reaching for the knob and missing a few tries in before finally grabbing on and turning it.

“The switch is to your right!” Berdly told her once she disappeared through the door. “Hm, I don’t remember turning the lights off last time I was in there… Ah, I’m sure I must have to save on electricity! Very perceptive of me.” A satisfied nod, his beak grin looking as pleased as ever.

Sans was still just standing here. He decided to move things along. “good on ya, kid.”

Berdly went up to Sans in the blink of an eye, adjusting his glasses with a certain flair to it, like someone who had practiced such a technique a dozen times in front of a mirror. “My apologies for the delay! But how may I assist you? As a part-time worker for this very library, I-”

“you mean the librarby?”

A pause, the bird giving a few blinks.

“says it right out there on the sign.”

“Ah! Right. That. A bit of a misspelling from construction! It’s not actually called that-”

“i mean, shouldn’t it be called that if it’s there?” Sans questioned. “everyone in town does.”

“Okay, yes, but that’s not right! Librarby isn’t even a word! It-” Berdly stopped himself, bringing back his smile after accidentally getting rid of it. “I mean, if that’s what the public would rather call it, then they are free to do so! Just, it’s not correct.”

“okay, but the sign-”

“Can I help you???”

Sans thought about it. He could hear Temmie (yeah he knew who she was already) munching away at her pages from behind them, the sound of it pretty loud and echoey. Berdly twitched.

“hm. well. i got this thing here.” He pulled out the floppy disk from his pocket, shook it around a bit because it was, well, floppy. And that was fun. “what do i do with this?”

“Wait, is that what I think it is?!” The bird boy was staring wide-eyed at the disk. “I never thought I’d see something so retro from a rando right in front of me…”

“yeah it’s neat, isn’t it? first disk i’ve ever been able to bend without breaking, heh.”

“WHAT?! Don’t do that! That’s- that probably has some rare programs on it!” There was a flapping of arms, blue feathers fluttering everywhere. Wow, talk about flustered. “Let me see that!”

“sure, go ahead.” And so he tossed the disk into the air, high enough that Berdly went so far as to flap his wings and catch it, then promptly fell to the floor when he couldn’t really fly that good anyway.

“Shh!” shushed Temmie, her mouth half-full with academic research. “tEM stUDY!”

Berdly shook off the brief embarrassment like a pro, then nonchalantly examined the floppy disk in his hands. “Wait, there’s no label… What is this for?”

Sans shrugged. “probably junk. but heard this was librarby property so i wanted to give it back. maybe use it a little. maybe give it a lick.”

“This belongs to the librarby- I mean, the library?” Berdly frowned at Sans, very much not appreciating the mess up. “I don’t see our logo anywhere and wait did you just say you licked this???”

Sans winked. “not yet.”

Berdly’s face was a picture of disgust. He now held the floppy disk with a bit of trepidation. “If I have to put you on our wall of shameful lickers here, I will not hesitate to do so, sir.”

“alright, fair’s fair. can i still use it though?”

“Well… I can’t deny someone wanting to use our tools of knowledge, as long as they don’t desecrate it.”

Tem’s munching got a bit louder and harder to ignore. Berdly winced.

“S-she just has special permission! After all, we try to accommodate everyone.” He stood up tall, head raised to the ceiling as if he was just about to preen his feathers. “One of my own grand ideas, of course. I always make sure she only eats the actual trash literature – the young adult section!”

He spoke so fiercely, bigging himself up in front of Sans who he apparently couldn’t remember was the store cashier he bought all those flashy guides from. Interesting, since Sans had no authoritative power whatsoever, but hey, if the kid wanted to be cool in front of him, who was he to judge?

“so how do i use it?” he asked, trying to move this along. Kid loved going on tangents.

“Right, of course! Considering the make of this disk…” And here, Berdly held up said disk to his eyes, examining such a prestigious relic. “This can only work in the late 199X Neo PC Model. Newer computers don’t even have the slot to take this.” He turned and walked towards the left, not watching if Sans was following him. “However, we do have one such model here, though this will require a bit of delicate work to get both computer and disk running properly.”

“cool, counting on ya for that,” Sans replied, never taking one step from his spot. “ain’t much of a tech guy these days.”

Berdly smiled, his pleased expression heightening as he went to the other computer room that was shoved off in a corner of the building, opening the door. “Well, you’re in luck! I’m quite tech-savvy myself, especially when it comes to these retro relics! In fact, they call me the retro master because I-”

He opened the door and there was Sans, already seated in front of the 199X Neo Model, one hand right on the mouse. The computer was placed in the middle of the room, bulky cathode-powered screen facing the door. And it was already booted up and running.

Sans turned his head, waving to Berdly. “this it?”

“…How did you just…?” Berdly looked behind him, then back again. “I had this locked!”

“you showed me in, duh.” Sans then proceeded the click the mouse several times, tapping away at it like he was about to set a new world-record. “cool set-up.”

Clearly, the kid was having a bit of trouble, but he just shook his head of the brief confusion he had just felt. “Well, you’re right about that. I’ve kept it maintained myself! They just don’t make ‘em like they used to these days.”

“guessin’ because they don’t make ‘em at all.”

“…Okay, yes, but the point is, such classics are in danger of being forgotten!” Berdly initially missed inserting the floppy disk into the bay storage that sat just underneath the computer monitor, and then kept doing that for a solid minute. “This model in particular has a unique graphics card that was well-known during its time for giving vivid color! One could really get lost in the coding that it supplied ASCII character set with, as well as the games that it hosted such as the FPS classic as well as my personal favorite, DOOD. Really the first of its time as you play a monster marine who must eliminate all these evil humansaaaargh, just get in already!!”

He finally managed the shove the floppy disk inside, a few more feathers flying loose, some of them landing right on top of Sans’ skull.

“pretty tricky, huh?”

Berdly didn’t deign to answer that.

With the computer chugging along, it took a few moments before the screen turned black and opened the program on the disk. It did slowly at first, Berdly staring wide-eyed at the screen, excited for what was about to unfold. Sans just leaned back in his computer chair, wondering if he could sneak in a quick nap.

Birdish-excitement quickly left once the words were clearly printed in bright lighting. “What? ‘Color Café 2.0’? This is just a paint program?”

“love all those colors.” Sans leaned up again. That nap was gonna have to wait. “can’t believe they made blue out of this.”

“They didn’t invent-!” But Berdly stopped, squinting his eyes at the skeleton. “Ohhh I see. You’re trying to make fun of me, aren’t you? Ha! Well, ya got to get up pretty early in the morning to pull one over me! Early bird catches the worm, as they say!”

“geez, kid. can just say you don’t like blue.”

He was too busy looking at the screen with its filtered colors to see if the kid took offense, some of them flashing just a bit due to the age of the computer. ‘COLOR CAFÉ’ was spelled out in an assortment of such colors – though blue especially – while two paintbrush designs were set up next to it. One was topped off with pink paint, while the other with yellow. There were also instructions just underneath it to start the program.

“hm. press any key. which one’s that?”

Surprisingly, the kid was still right next to him. He even had his finger up all ready, as if he was about to go off on another tangent before being interrupted. “…It’s any of the keys on here.”

“you sure about that?” Sans shook his head. “seems like it’s asking for something more specific.”

“No, it’s- it’s just asking you to press any key here!” Berdly pointed at the keyboard in an almost violent manner. “So go do that!”

The skeleton looked from bird to keyboard, nodding in intervals. “oh i get it now. makes sense. but can’t do it.”

Berdly was glaring. And if the glasses were any indicator, his glaring was making both of his eyes twitch painfully. “Why can’t you do it?”

Sans held up his hands – encased in mittens. “can’t type with these on.”

“Then?? Take them off??”

“whoa, calm down, kid. this ain’t the teenz-own.” Berdly was sputtering, but Sans only kept going. “and it’s too cold. got no skin so i need all the warmth i can get.”

“It’s almost summer?!”

“news to me.”

Berdly was stuttering again, but in whispers this time. He glared at Sans again before asking, “Do you…want…me to type it in for you?”

Sans raised his head, smiling wide. “well, that would be pretty great, kid. nice of you to help out these old bones.”

Berdly took a few steps, faced the aging computer with its bulky monitor. He blinked, then tapped the enter key with a feather tip.

The computer emitted a fun little tune. The logo of ‘COLOR CAFÉ’ faded, to then be replaced by an empty canvas and buttons of every color imaginable from the amazing world of 20 years ago.

“thanks, kid.”

“No…problem…” Berdly said through gritted teeth. “Anyway, I need to get back to my project now. Tell me you don’t need any more help.”

“nah, s’all good.” He winked. “get those books cracking like good ol’ genius mageton.”

Berdly had already turned away, but stopped in mid-step as Sans talked, eyes wide. “Wait… was that a Dragon Blazers 2 reference? And of the best party member??”

“who’s blazing?” Sans was already clicking away at the mouse.

“…Never mind…. You weird boomer…” Berdly had not closed the door before he whispered such words underneath his breath, but honestly, Sans didn’t take any offense. It was pretty accurate anyway.

Now. For the next step.

A shame he didn’t know how to draw.

They had told Spamton, specifically Pink as he’d handpick which shoes to put onto his sample plate, always predicting correctly which would be the hot flavor of the month, “If you want to reap success, you gotta put that energy out into the world. Visualize! Imaginize! And more! All for the low, low price of $9.99! You always need to be willing to invest!”

Funny that he’d remember this now, with the phone cord wrapped around his neck, recalling all that and yet forgetting exactly just how to breathe.

Hadn’t he been always trying such a thing? Every day at the computer? At the phone?

Hadn’t he tri >ed???!?

It was that plea within his very chest that made him wake up, to find himself back in his storefront at the dump, the voice still ringing inside his head, the cord still strangling him tight. But it wasn’t like he even needed to breathe anyway.

After all, he was just a puppet long past his prime.

So instead, Spamton watched how his legs hung in the air, how his arms felt weightless, how the cord, the string, the whatever-it-was kept pulling him up and up and up, so much farther than any Darkner had ever achieved.

And yet, besides himself, all he could ever see was the Dark.

He wanted to struggle he wanted to struggle all he had ever done was STRUGGLE!! But that was all he could do even as whatever held him in this darkness kept him suspended. He couldn’t even see the walls of his shop anymore.

“WHAT IS-” he started, pulling on the cord, feeling it give and move with his motions – or was it moving him instead? “WHAT IS [[Schedule a free car test ride!]] RIGHT NOW?! HELLO?! MY [[Favorite Customer]]!!”

To not see the walls anymore, those same walls where he had retreated to, with the toddler-friendly crayons he had retrieved from a nearby trash can and started to scribble in front of him. The face of the sun, the blue of a sky that held more colors than he could ever dream of.

Hopes and dreams, scattered away the moment all his sales and reputation sank further into obscurity and the [[DarkDarkDarkerYetDarker]].

The string pulled, made his jaw work, and their voice slipped through like they had always made their home there.

.

.

.

YOU HAVE DONE

EXCELLENTLY

TO PRESEVERE.

.

.

.

His hand hit against something solid – made a sound that echoed all around him.

Something made of metal and magic.

The body that had been leaning towards him, that he thought had been just his imagination, his wishes that he couldn’t let go if. It was real.

It was right in front of him, miles away from the men inside.

“HOLY [[Cungadero]!!!” Spamton flinched, moved around in the strings until he was tangled within them even more. A leg kicked out, hit that solidness, and the wonderful ring that came about, that made Spamton nearly weep again for the 17^th time that day.

“[[Not]] IN THE BASEMENT?! IT’S HERE!! IN MY [[Shop Closing Down]]?! IT CAME FOR ME!!” Spamton curled his tiny fingers around the strings (the cords?), trying to swim through the darkness. “BUT I THOUGHT… THE TRANSFER? DID WE [[Skip the Middleman]]!?”

The voice in the receiver moved through him again, like a hand that was not his own, moving his jaw up and down.

.

.

.

NOW.

SHALL WE ?

.

.

.

Sans chuckled. Maybe if the grocery biz didn’t pull through, he could try a gig in graphic design.

On the screen, scrawled in sloppy blue, was the word, ‘sans’ but with the last curl of the ‘s’ drawn out until it reached across the canvas, disappearing off-screen. Blue that cut through the white like a lazy little river, the only part of the painting that the eye could even draw to.

Perfection.

“okay, enough break-time,” he said to himself, taking the eraser tool to wash away his masterpiece. “better get to work.”

His phone had been weighing in his shorts this entire time, enough that he felt like it would pull them down completely if he wasn’t careful. Not like anyone would be seeing anything if it did, but even a skeleton’s gotta have a little dignity. He couldn’t keep this up anymore. So, he took out the phone.

Spam emails. Filling up his inbox as far as he could see. They ranged from the usual CASH FOR $KROMER$ ones to those that were just endless letters of @%^&$@aaaAAAAAAAAAAAAA which, in Sans’ honest opinion, was a pretty bold business move. Had to give respect.

But he laid his gaze on the one email that had no exclamation marks, no numbers, no words, no nothing. In fact, it had no subject line at all.

The email itself when he opened it was incomprehensible – to most people. He was kinda jealous of those people. Oh well, can’t have it all.

“alright then.” And with that new info, he kept clicking around on the Color Café canvas, until he found the little file in a previously opened directory.

A save file, with a name to it that he kept to himself. “sorry, buddy,” he said, and clicked it wide open.

And so-

Spamton hadn’t always been a puppet.

Sometimes when he woke up, the ball joints of his wrists felt so new to him, along with the continuous clacking of his jaw, the rolling of his eyes. Things that gravity took hold of, making his now tiny feet clack against the pavement whenever he’d be searching for the next cyber meal.

So the ease of how that voice could rush out of his mouth made him want to vomit. It made him want to tear out that bottom jaw and throw it into the acid river until nothing was left. But then his limbs would move, would guide him, force him, PUSH HIM, until he tried so hard to push back.

But with even with the cords around him, the receiver hanging alongside him, silent but no tone yet, he couldn’t ignore what was in front of him.

It was here it was here it was here the body was here, as if it had been perched on its very own altar, as if it had been built for his own personal worship.

It was like another body had been lying around here, all this time, all this time ALL THIS TIME!

Spamton must have been losing his edge.

“WHO’S THE POOR [[Schmuck]] THAT LEFT THIS HERE? IN MY [[Prestigious Storefront]]? I CAN’T BELIEVE-

I CAN’T BELIEVE-

I CAN’T BELIEVE-

I CAN’T BELIEVE I CAN’T I CAN’T-”

Why was he questioning such a good thing? (Because it has happened to him before only to be pulled under his feet only to be-)

But he just wanted to fly.

It didn’t take Spamton long, to finally move around the strings, to get at least one arm free as he searched for the slot. The place where he could enter, where he could finally find release from this dark dark darkdarkdark prison. All stuck here. All stuck here.

Maybe the voice was still trying to help him, in the end. Maybe it had all been a simple case of… miscommunication.

They would never steer their old pal Spamton wrong! Not twice at least!

“JUST [[No Strings Attached]]!!” he still begged of the phone hanging with him, his voice heaving. No longer a hand inside to use his jaw, but that wouldn’t happen again, right? That wouldn’t happen again. “THAT’S ALL I ASK. IT’S ALL PART OF THE [[deAL]]! WE [[Let’s shake on it]]!! SYMBOLICALLY! RIGHT? RIGHT?”

Was he still speaking to the other person on the phone? Was he just talking to himself? That’s all he did nowadays. All he did all he did except…When they first told him about the body before cutting off completely.

Before his sales started to tank.

Before his friends had all left him.

And all he had, was this. This body, lying in darkness, whispering precious, precious things. Of a place that could be better than this.

It’s the sunk-cost fallacy. He couldn’t back out now.

His hand found the slot, just like all those nights ago when he had stumbled into the basement and found something promising.

But nothing happened.

Spamton was still, static ringing in his head. Then he slammed his hand against that same slot of the body, hearing the ringing again, even as he still couldn’t see, always so dark. He slammed it again. And again. AGAIN?!

“WHY WON’T- WHY WON’T-” He stuttered, stopped. “THE DISK?! DO I STILL NEED THE DISK?!”

Anger seethed through him, both hands now reaching out to the slot. Only now could he see the body again in its details, leaning over him like a crumbling tower, its surface so lifeless and dull.

“LET ME [[Talk to you about our extended warranty]]!! LET ME IN!!”

The strings pulled him up and up, further and further. Once again, he lost control. “NO!! NO [[Stop It Please]]!! WHY DO YOU [[No Refunds Under Any Circumstances]]!? NO! N0!!”

It seemed as if that body reached out to him then.

-there it was. The picture his friend had made.

Sans let out a low whistle, “nice one.”

Maybe a more critical eye would have commented on the mish mash of color, the color fills that had went over a few layers, and the unequal symmetry of the…shoulder pads? Sans wasn’t clear on that front. The CRT monitor of the computer wasn’t doing it favors either, creating a glare on the picture’s proportions, blurring the lines until it was lost within the limited capabilities of this old 90’s tech.

But he liked it, for what it was, what it could be. It was too bad he’d never know what that ‘could be’ well… be.

Another glance to that email again. He shifted his hand from the mouse to the keyboard, pulled up the BIOS and…

Yeah, Sans never liked explaining the technical aspects of his jobs, not even to himself. Frankly, it was boring. Results were all that mattered really. Also, it was technically impossible for him to type with these gloves on, so he needed a long break after this once he checked in with his union.

Anyway, he now had a new mouse cursor on his screen.

It was a very tiny man. With short legs and a big mouth. Hm, weird.

Sans moved him around a bit on-screen to test it out, so to speak.

“cool. always wanted a cursor like this. nice sprite work.”

Very animated too. The little man sprite was waving his fists, kicking his legs even more so as Sans moved him around. “bit glitchy though,” he commented, seeing some of its colors get inverted at times. Enough to make the screen color flicker a bit on the monitor. “wonder if it has the blue screen feature, heh.”

The best solution, probably, was to click around some more. So he did. The cursor got even more animated. So much that it didn’t seem to be possible with this computer.

Coulda swore he heard a voice too, or maybe that was just the squeaky wheels of the library chairs. It was high-pitched just like them. But Sans knew he couldn’t have fun forever.

The email had explained it to him. With the new code, with the new…keygen? He thought they called it that.

Just double-click, and that would be that.

Not like he had a choice in the matter.

“in you go,” he said, leaning his skull on one hand, while the other held onto the mouse, dragging the now glitching little man onto that picture that had been made with love if not talent. He clicked, then double-clicked because it seemed fun too.

That was when the computer froze.

A dialog box appeared but not before the screen turned a shade of fervent and saturated blue. Sans didn’t blink, even as there was nothing left for him except errors.

The dialog box had been nothing but a string of symbols, so much that he thought he could feel it in his very…

Soul.

And the blue itself didn’t seem to stop at the monitor.

“welp,” he said, feeling just a bit resentful. But that was the price to pay when you followed orders so blindly. “here we go.”

He got so used to that shine of blue that when it finally faded away, it took Sans a moment to understand his surroundings. Just darkness. All darkness. Though it was the darkness of when his phone would run out of battery, leaving him nothing but a reflection staring back from the screen. Synthetic. Maybe a little broken. But it was something that he was very used to.

Until that same picture from before appeared right in front of him, with barely a second to spare. It had the same lines, the same curves and pre-made shapes, the same color fills, some of them bleeding out onto those same layers, until it meshed and no longer made any comprehensible patterns. Those bright colors just hung off what looked like a giant frame of arms and legs and a torso, the fans on the back of it trying so hard to be like wings, spreading out as if it could reach as high as it could.

Except, this was way bigger than what he had first seen on that file. Life-sized, even. Maybe double that? Basically, he only came up to its boot while it towered over him like a long-forgotten statue out in the wilderness.

Also, there was a face on it, complete with a pair of shades of pink and yellow flickering with gamma correction, and teeth grinning so much like it was about to go out of style at any second.

He wasn’t surprised when it finally spoke.

“ARE YOU THE [[1000^th Customer]]?!?!” The voice was so loud it made his skull reverberate. “YOU MUST HAVE AN EYE FOR [[Big Savings]]!!”

The head tilted as it spoke, mouth just slightly open, showing off those pearly whites and an abyss of darkness right in the middle. Only those glasses of his gave any semblance of light, locked onto Sans like a car’s hi-beams that had been purposefully left on.

It tried to walk, and in some ways it did, but it more or less floated towards him, uncanny in its movements, its feet never quite reaching the ground, like brittle branches that sank too low from old trees. Sans angled his head up a bit and through the dark, he could see something was holding it up. It sometimes shook the body, made it flinch and shoot out an arm before pulling it back, or lifted a strange wing before lowering it again. Unintentional. Each movement looked more painful than the last.

Someone must still be finding their rhythm.

“AND YET… YOU LOOK SO [[Small]]!”

Low-hanging fruit. But Sans let it slide.

“hey there, big guy?” Sans asked, feeling like he was in the tensest opening act of his career. “sup?”