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“Take care of our new guest” was the only thing Queen told me, leaving me alone with the wave of her hand and a prolonged sip from her martini glass, which she placed, empty, into my open hand. Remnants of battery acid sat placidly at the bottom, which I looked upon in the bright lights of the cafe. I swished the small bit of liquid around, watching our Lady Grace stumble out, cackling with delight. I shook my head, taking the glass to the sink and washing it out before wiping the glass with my towel.
I only tended to our most luxurious rooms in the mansion. This new guest must be a pretty big deal. We never get these types of people often. The Queen rarely even lets anybody stay in her mansion, nonetheless in her nicest rooms. There had been word around town about a rich and popular salesman… I had a suspicion that this was him.
I placed the glass aside, waving with a short bow to the other patrons of the bar and leaving them to my companions. “I’ll be back momentarily.” I denoted, briskly making my way out the archway and through the blue and red corridors of the abode. Up the red carpeted stairs and every which way, around the other butlers and numerous pots, painted with our Master’s face. Charming . Even if it was a pain not to disrespect our Lady’s wishes. I ducked under arms escorting people to their meals, and avoided everything as swiftly as possible, arriving upon a purple door— just like all the others.
I adjusted my glasses, and read the name tag adorning it:
‘Spamton G. Spamton’
What a name. I expected a fine gentleman. I knocked politely on the door, standing up straight and tucking my hands behind my back.
I waited.
… No reply.
I knocked again, harder this time.
A somewhat weaselly voice spoke up from behind the door now.
“It’s- uh… come in! It’s unlocked!”
I obliged, placing my hand on the knob and opening the door a sliver; just to peek inside. At first, I didn’t see anybody at all. I opened the door all the way, wide open. I stepped inside, and I saw him—
The littlest Addison I had ever seen.
He was sitting on the provided bed, swinging his legs around. Smiling away, not a care in the world. His cheeks faintly blushed pink, but the rest of his body was white. He was built like a marionette, his limbs and fingers all filled with sections so they could bend and twist. He wore a jet-black suit jacket, with a white turtleneck underneath.
… I don’t know what I expected. But, a tiny puppet man was not it.
“Good evening, sir.”
“Ohh, sir?” He giggled, his smile growing impossibly wider. “Please, call me Spamton!”
“Alright… Spamton . I’m Swatch, the Queen’s head butler. I take care of everything for guests like you.” I bowed slightly, smiling at him. “Can I get you anything?”
“Woah… I didn’t realize I would be getting the full package when I bought this room!” He crossed one small leg over the other, pondering. His eyes were dark and empty, but I could see the thought embedded in his expression. “Well- what have you got?”
I was astonished at this man’s naiveté, for being in our special suite of the mansion. I’d heard so much about him, but… oh well. Who was I to judge?
“Sir… anything you can think of, I can certainly receive it for you. Or our chefs can make it… within reason.”
“Hm… can I—“ He was cut off abruptly by his rotary phone ringing wildly, the phone practically throwing itself off the hook. “Oh! Please excuse me!”
He picked it up, and held the receiver to his ear. “Hello? Ah, yes…”
I tried my best not to eavesdrop on his conversation, my eyes darting around the room quickly. That phone appeared to be his only possession. At least that I could see. He had only just moved in, but… Maybe I was confusing him with somebody else. This guy… Spamton… he didn’t really strike me as a guy who could sell me… well, anything.
I figured this was going to be a fairly long phone call, judging by the way the little man laid back onto his bed, his legs still crossed, one perched atop his knee, phone up to his ear.
I cleared my throat softly, placing my hand on the knob. “The cafe is downstairs if you require assistance.” I murmured. He offered me a thumbs up, before he went back to chattering to whoever was on the other end.
I left his room promptly and returned to my station in the cafe. The Queen came stumbling back in for another serving of her signature drink.
And I quickly forgot about Spamton and his telephone.
Some time had passed. Things changed. Of course, I was still doing the same thing I always did— working at Color Cafe. People moved in and out, up and down. I watched faces I vaguely recognized from my services pass by; never seeing them again. Unless they decided to stop by. However, visits became few and far between. The Queen was all powerful, her face plastered all around town. Although it became apparent in her absences that she had become humbled in her fruitless search for a “willing peon”. I had listened to one too many tirades about creating a fountain to care anymore, so I was somewhat glad she put her mission on hold, although I would never tell her that.
There was a group of people that came in fairly often, always in the same order— Addisons, of every color. They were a pleasant group. They always sat at the same table, in the same row, and almost always ordered the same things. One of them though; he was a bit noisy. Not enough to complain, but enough that I could hear what he was saying when I went about my business. Something about being a “big shot”. I didn’t really understand, but… I thought I’d heard that voice somewhere before. I brushed it off, and the other Addisons laughed at him, before going back to their normal conversation.
The more they came in, the more I noticed less of them arrived. And the quieter the table got. They all stubbornly ordered less and less, sometimes only coming in for one drink of our cheapest kind, and leaving almost immediately after. They did not look happy.
The visits became infrequent.
I thought they were never going to come in again, until I saw the noisiest one come in, by himself. He sat silently at a table. He did not order anything. Nobody else came to accompany him. Something about him was familiar, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I frowned, before mixing up a drink for him— whatever the daily special was, decorating the cup with a lime and a mini paper umbrella. I did not understand the umbrella, but the Queen claimed “lightners love them” so I must agree.
I placed the drink onto a silver platter, and made my way over to his table. I gently slid it into his view, making him jump, and stare at me incredulously behind his… multi-colored shades. I adjusted my own shades in response, just for a moment, before offering him a smile.
“… Single visitors drink free on tuesdays.”
“Oh…” He looked at the drink, still seemingly baffled. “… isn’t it Wednesday?”
I shrugged, and tucked my free hand behind my back. “Oh well. It’s Tuesday in my book. Seemed like you needed it.”
“Uh… thanks.” He shifted around in his seat, swinging his little legs to adjust his position.
Suddenly I recognized him from his small, puppet-like appearance.
“Hey… Spamton, right? You used to live here.” I laughed lightly, tucking the platter under my arm. “I knew your voice always sounded familiar when you would come in with your friends.”
“… Friends…” He hollowly echoed, staring hard at the table. He became very stiff and he didn’t move or say anything else.
I quickly tried to think of something else to say, feeling bad for bringing up what was probably a touchy subject. That thing that had been “different” about him became apparent to me. “Your hair… it used to be… white. Right?” I pointed to his spiky hair, noting the somewhat white streaks near his roots. He looked at me suddenly, his expression filled with shock and embarrassment.
“Well-! I, uh—“ His face grew hot with blush, and he practically bounced out of his chair, slipping and sliding on the tiled floor and he ran past me. He was spouting off gibberish— that or he was just talking very quickly and I couldn’t understand. I was too shocked to try and stop him until he was almost out the door.
“Wait! Spamton, you—“ I held out my hand in vain, calling out to him, but he continued running, giving me a small wave as he made his way out.
I sighed, confused by the whole situation. I guess I wasn’t entitled to know everything about guests… maybe I shouldn’t have asked. I looked at the drink I placed on his table, picking it up and indulging myself in the beverage. Just this once. Then I wiped his table and his chair, and went on with my business.
Time passed again. I haven't seen Spamton for a long time. A man I barely even cared about before came to plague my mind, and our conversation played out numerous times in my head, like a movie… An embarrassing movie. I felt ashamed that I had made him run away. I never intended to make him feel uncomfortable. Well, I didn’t really know if that made him uncomfortable. Whatever it made him feel was enough to make him run out. I was worried I had scared him off for good. I went about my business anyway, serving drinks and cleaning tables.
I was cleaning off the table he had sat at last time, one right by the long window that faced the road. I looked out at the city lights, the sidewalks bustling with people, and ads, and Addisons. I squinted, noticing a familiar figure in the crowd.
Spamton.
Walking alone, by himself.
I hesitated, but I placed down my things and told the other swatchlings to look over the patrons while I went out for just a moment. They agreed, and I quickly sprinted out the door, making my way out onto the road. I felt like an idiot, running out haphazardly into the street. Cars honked at me, but I didn’t get hit. I looked around wildly for that little puppet. I saw him walking down the sidewalk right in front of me.
I almost called out his name, but I refrained in fear that he would run away from me again. I didn’t want to lose him in the city, I would never find him here. I quietly made my way over to him, walking silently beside him for many moments. I wanted to say something, but I didn’t know what. I wasn’t even sure what drew me to him.
Spamton noticed me before I even had a chance to think. “ You?!” He cried, looking up at me with that same shocked expression from before.
“Please don’t run away! I just want to talk to you.”
“… What?”
“About… last time. I’m sorry I made you run away. I didn’t mean to make you upset. It was, er… spur-of-the-moment. Please, forgive me. You’re always welcome at the cafe.” I apologized, walking idly along the sidewalk with him.
“… I… you didn’t make me upset, I was… I was nervous you had realized I was copying your looks.” Spamton sighed, rubbing his upper arm with his hand.
Oh, how stupid I felt. Of course. The shades, the hair, the suit. It was… flattering. I chuckled, placing my hand to my chin thoughtfully. “Oh, Spamton, I don’t mind. I think it’s cute.”
“… cute?”
“In a way, yes.” I looked down at him, noticing that the black had faded out of his hair more. The white prominently showed through his clearly dyed hair. “Goodness, you do need a touchup though, don’t you?”
“Huh? Oh, my hair—“ He held his hand over the faded spot, frowning. He laughed humorlessly, his brows furrowing. “I guess it could, but… I don’t…”
“There’s a salon downtown you could go to. I used to go there.”
“What? That place is always packed with reservations— there’s no way.”
“Hm…” I pulled my notepad for taking orders off my waist, flipping it open with my thumb and jotting down a phone number. “Call this number. She runs the place. Tell her Swatch sent you.” I ripped the sheet off the top, folding it in half, and offering it to the small man.
Spamton was hesitant, but he shakily took the paper from my hands. He unfolded it and looked at the number, before folding it back up again. “… I don’t understand.”
“Understand what?”
“Why are you being so nice to me?”
Well… even I didn’t know that. I never got personal with guests. I shook my head, smiling faintly. “Everybody needs a little help every once in a while, right?”
“…”
Spamton didn’t say anything else, and I looked back at the mansion, grimacing. “I really must return to work. But please— come back sometime. You’re always welcome.” I broke off from his stride, walking back the way I came.
“Swatch, wait!”
I looked back over my shoulder, and Spamton was following me. I turned back around, clasping my hands together. “Yes?”
He motioned for me to bend down, so I did. Spamton quickly wrapped his short arms around my neck, squeezing me so tightly I thought my head would pop off my shoulders. “Thanks.” Was all he said, before letting me go, and running off in the other direction and quickly as he could.
I stood back up again, and adjusted my glasses. Now it was my turn to feel embarrassed. At the same time, I felt I had fulfilled a purpose.
… It felt nice.
I smiled to myself, walking along the sidewalk to go back to the cafe.
But I would never forget how wonderful that hug felt.