Chapter Text
You woke up with a chaotic, yet familiar three layered alarm.
Except it wasn’t you. You aren’t the main character here, yet here you are.
Spamton woke up with a chaotic, yet familiar three layered alarm;
“Honey! It’s almost time for school! Come downstairs!~”
“You NEVER wake up on time! Hurry up!”
“T-take as much time as you need, Spammy …”
He sat up, instantly hopping off his bed and standing idly in the middle of his bedroom, or rather, his side of it. Each corner was a cluttered mess, whether it be from him or not. He was drawn to his computer, which thankfully was powered off before he went to bed. He ran his fingers over the trackpad, he often forgot to turn it off, or he’d crash during some late night “research” and be ridiculed for increasing the power bill. He didn’t have time to engage in his “research” right now, so he swiftly turned around to inspect more items, items you’d think he would be familiar with.
Suddenly, he whipped around, seeing the similarly situated other half of the room… truth be told, most of the stuff over there was also from him, given his “roomie” as mom1 called him was away, not like he really had his own personal belongings. Mike and Spamton shared most things, it seemed to be a family custom, and when Mike moved out to get a job abroad he left the things he couldn’t fit in his suitcase to Spamton. Most of it was junk from their youth, or items he couldn’t bare to see be sold, and the things he did sell were replaced with other items he bought online. Flipping through some pages of a pile of comics, he remarked that he had a bit of a shopping addiction.
He had an attachment to all of his things, even if mom2 described his room as a “garbage can”, but what really stuck out to him was the laptop and a lone book resting on a few boxes. Mindlessly touching it, he opened it wide to reveal a large part of the pages cut out. The large dip in the literature formed the perfect shape of an oval. This book is where he stored his pipis. Unfortunately, mom1, mom2 and mom3 found the pipis book, and made him throw his stash out before it exploded. He put the book back before the pain set in once more, not to mention he should hurry up if he wanted to make it to class on time.
He exited the room and went down the stairs, given there wasn’t anything to interact with between flights. He came to the bottom of the steps and was quickly noticed by his mom, or, moms. Three of them… in the same body. Her students knew her as Ms. Clover, he knew her as mom1-3 depending who was addressing him at the moment. Clover was a triplet, each head had their own personality and their own way of raising children, mom1 being the most neutral, mom2 being more confrontational, and mom3 letting him get away with everything. Now, of course, she was going to drive him to his school.
“Morning, sleepyhead!”
“ABOUT TIME. We’ll be OUTSIDE, don’t make us wait any longer!”
“Brush your teeth, at least…”
With that, the mom1-3 ran outside, leaving him to his own devices before getting to school. His feet moved swiftly, rushing to the bathroom to the side, Spamton felt as if this wasn’t for matters such as brushing his teeth, but rather exploration. The bathroom wasn’t anything special, just a standard sink, mirror, toilet, and bathtub with three separate showerheads. Rushing over to possibly run the water, he noted that each mom had distinct tastes in water temperature. With the flood attempt unsuccessful, he shifted to the toilet, flushing it once with a silly little noise playing in the back of his ear… he flushed the toilet! He did it over and over, until he heard three voices from outside.
“Spammy! We can hear you flush the toilet from the car!”
“STOP RUNNING OUR BILLS THROUGH THE ROOF YOU C-”
“Did you brush your teeth, yet ..?”
Somehow, he pulled himself away from the flush machine, hoping that was the only dialogue box. Now, he moved to the mirror, staring at himself. His eyes always appeared to be closed, he refused to tell others whether or not they were, but he seemed to have a decent understanding of his surroundings. The only other parts he could see from the mirror was just above his nose, he was too short, and mom1-3 lost his stool long ago. The upper part of his face wasn’t much to talk about, his hair nearly blended into his skin, both being pure white with the only contrast being his red cheeks. The longer he stood, the more uneasy he felt.
It’s you, you’re still you.
The words didn’t leave his lips, but he sure wished they did.
Finding nothing else interesting in the bathroom, he headed for the other rooms. The kitchen counter was a few steps away from the bathroom, and housed the most recent cake made by mom1-3. She had an affinity with making cake, specifically “birthday cake”, full of candles and having something random written on it. Stepping closer revealed his suspicions.
Happy birthday Nicholas!
He didn’t know who Nicholas was, but that was just day to day life, tomorrow a cake labeled “Happy first birthday, Bertha” would be on the counter, how sweet. This taste in cakes thankfully meant his birthday would always be fun, or at least the cake would be good. It’s normally frowned upon for an adult to not only still be living with their moms, but to eat the birthday cake the moms made… but Spamton didn’t have a chance to think about it further, he was already in the living room, inspecting the couch. He found three dollars. Sweet.
Nothing else in the home provided anything quippy or lore important to note, so Spamton finally went outside.
“There you are! Let’s go!”
“DO YOU HAVE BEESWAX IN YOUR NON-EXISTENT EARS? WHEN WE SAY HURRY WE MEAN-”
“G-gosh… can you calm down?”
He got into the car without a word, the silence being filled by mom1-3. They argued over the smallest of things, he just gazed out the window, admiring all the fallen leaves. Foresttown was known for its dark trees with bright red leaves, said trees bunched together like bundles of sticks, and grew very tall in their lifetime. This left the town not only layered in shades of red, but rather dark during all times of day. It was beautiful, but hard to drive in, so most of the yelling came from instances of other cars not using their headlights and neighbors jaywalking. He was about to doze off again when the car came to a sudden halt.
They arrived, Foresttown’s University.
Mom1-3 exited the car first. They all worked as a teacher, teaching topics like Philosophy, English, History, and really anything that sparked interest. The town was small, and the threshold of monsters with a teacher degree was even smaller, so Clover tackled several subjects, including being the organizer for the debate team. Spamton, miraculously, didn’t have any of her classes… instead he was banished to Mr. Round’s class, which seemed to major in disturbing silences and aerobics.
“Have a good day, Spammy!”
“Or else!”
“B.. bye!”
He had exited the car by then, and with a few beeps indicating the car was now locked, began walking towards the building. He wanted to walk to class, but something told him to brush along every locker in hopes of finding something interesting… he naturally found nothing. When his urges were satisfied, he finally went to class, stumbling into a nearly full classroom. Mr. Round at the front, just staring at him with unblinking eyes. Instead of taking a seat, he started to talk to all of the classmates in sight.
He knew all of them by name, they weren’t really close, but the fact he had classes with almost everyone of them since he started university helped. He had friendly interactions with many of them before today, but some of his “closest allies” were Tasque Manager, Seam and Swatch. Tasque, since referring to someone by their full name is weird, was a modest and reclusive woman who had a thing for being on time.
“You were almost late again, Spam, can you PLEASE work on being punctual?”
It was big words like that that made Spamton enjoy her company. Next was Seam, they were very modest and soft spoken, never interacting with others unless the situation called for it. He slid over to their desk, quickly noticing the orange eyepatch they wore… they had it since forever, but it always stood out.
“Good Morning, Spamton. Did you hear about our assignment today? If you did, you’d be running your mouth about it, heh. I’m kidding, I promise! … you aren’t so talkative today, huh.”
He didn’t answer, instead looking to the desk next to Seam. Swatch . Swatch wasn’t a pleasant pheasant by any means, always ruffling feathers. He didn’t know why he was actively talking to them, but naturally they began to run their mouth.
“Spamton! You wake up on the wrong side of the bed? Your “hair” sure looks like it! Maybe if you dressed to impress like, I don’t know... me , you’d have a better time showing up fashionably early!~”
He didn’t see the correlation, but the smug look on their face made him clench his fist. He knew better to swing a punch, but he… strongly considered it. Odd. He chatted with a few more classmates, people like Rudinn and Hathy were nice enough, those two specifically being best friends. He didn’t have anything else to say, so he took a seat.
The second he did, Mr. Round, in all his legged glory, gave the chalkboard behind him a swift kick, bringing attention to what had been written on it.
“Major project due soon.”
Most of the letters had been written backwards or very sloppy, no one held it against Mr. Round, he couldn’t help having such long and luscious legs. The point was clear, though. Another swift kick let the class focus the text at the bottom.
“Partner assignment. Pick a partner. Now.”
Spamton glances around the room, many students already chatting with their peers around them. He knew this meant he didn’t have a chance. He didn’t even want to bother trying to find a partner, maybe he could ask the teacher to put him in a group of three, or better yet; work alone. He was just about to raise his hand to inquire when the door slammed open.
For once, Mr. Round’s eyes pleaded for mercy.