Chapter Text
Hiding from the strange, neon city you’ve found yourself hopelessly lost in, now seeking refuge in a dim and grimey alleyway, like a desperate loner. That’s the situation you’ve found yourself in. Everyone is fairly nice, but it seems like they’re all just trying to pitch something, or crack jokes. Being lost and scared, this doesn’t seem all that inviting. You’re reaching your limit, hoping for some kind of miracle. Maybe this is all a crazy dream- or a very well-executed prank. Either way, you were feeling miserable. Creatures are throwing projectiles at you and you’re not very good at puzzles…
You hug yourself, trying to calm your shivering body. You take in the eerie silence of the alleyway and try to avoid the creeping fear of the dark looming around you. You try to convince yourself that this alleyway is nicer than the loud bustling of the main road. And it almost works- until you hear rustling and an echoing thud from the dumpster. Your head jerks towards the loud noise, your attempt at composure slipping. The silence now feels heavier as you wait in anticipation. What creature could be hiding in a dumpster- so far you haven’t seen any raccoons or opossums. Maybe a Tasque? That’d be nice for a change…
The dumpster flings open, the crash making you jump in surprise. You back up a few feet, afraid of what might be inside and reeling from the stench of the dumpster now filling the air. A small head peeks out, covered in grime and greasy, black hair. It doesn’t seem like the creature has noticed you yet, its eyes, or whatever it has under those colored specs, are looking straight ahead, unfocused. Its voice pipes up, loud and grating, bouncing off the narrow walls surrounding it.
“HEY EVERY - IT’S ME! SPAM- SPAMTON G SPAMTON!” He laughs, but it sounds more like a toy with a broken voice box. It seems like he’s talking to a “crowd of people”. Not wanting to interact with a homeless man potentially having an episode, you try to quietly creep away. Not quietly enough, however, as his head swivels to meet you almost immediately- it tilts curiously, twitching a bit, his glasses glowing in the darkness. You wish you had run instead, now frozen under his gaze.
“HEY, H-HEY!! IF IT ISN’T A… “ He tries to wriggle out from the pile of trash, but slips and falls face-first onto the ground. You flinch, suddenly wanting to go and help him up. Instead of getting up like a normal person, his body seems to slide a bit towards you, and it looks like something drags him onto his feet. Looking at his features more, he resembles a puppet or doll. You chalk up his erratic movements to that and disregard it. You’re more worried about what he plans to do to you anyway.
“… LIGHT- NER!” He finishes his sentence, raising his arms confidently like he didn’t just fall out of a dumpster. You shiver, his voice pounding in your eardrums. It's loud, deep, and rough- but a bit nasally as well. Not easy on the ears, that’s for sure. “Looks like you’re [ All Alone on A Late Night?]. Your friends [ Abandoned you for the Slime] You Are?” A new, glitchy quirk emerges from the depths of his throat. Though it sounds like it's not his own. The voices vary, like when you quickly channel surf through commercials on tv. It’s like an ai being fed commercials and tv shows and spitting out random words to try and sound coherent. It’s almost working, but not quite. Everything about this man makes you want to run and cry- and you’re nearly there. He continues his pitch without a single breath. “Sales gone down the [drain], [drain]?” He pauses, gritting his teeth, and shaking violently. “LIVING IN A GODDAMN GARBAGE CAN?!” You back away, shrinking under his booming voice. Suddenly, you feel like this puppet man is projecting a little bit. He violently punches the garbage can, leaving a sizeable dent.
…You’ve decided that you’re thoroughly hopeless in this situation. The dam finally breaks and tears pour out of your eyes, blurring your vision. You see the blurry form of this “Spamton” guy face you and back away. You wipe your eyes, a sobbing mess, and see his expression. His static grin seems to falter a bit, and his glasses are foggy. His confident stance has turned into a nervous one. He seems taken aback by your sudden crying. His voice returns, a bit quieter this time.
“Hey, Hey [ Doll ], What’s With The Waterworks? Did My [Perfect Pitch] Hit a Little Too Close To [ Home Sweet Home ]?” He carefully approaches you, a few footsteps at a time, twitching nervously. You don’t have the energy to back away from him anymore, so you just hide your face in shame. Crying in front of a stranger is the last thing you wanted to do right now.
Spamton stops in place, retreats to his dumpster, and digs around. He pulls out a grimey pillow and places it in front of the dumpster. He pats it, sitting next to it, inviting you to sit down. “Come, [free real estate] for your weary legs!” He’s the first person to seem truly worried about your distress, so you take him up on his offer. The pillow is disgusting, but you don’t really care at the moment. You hug your knees, burying your face in them. For how loud he’s been, he’s very quiet now. Maybe he’s worried about scaring you… “Do you want to… [ discuss with your peers ]?” He says this carefully, seemingly unsure of how to approach this situation. You sniffle and try to reply.
“ Sorry, I just… I’m lost and I don’t really live here… I don’t know how to get home, and I’m not used to cities, I don’t- I don’t know where I am… I’ve been making enough money to eat by fighting enemies- well, more like talking and solving puzzles with them I guess, I’d never hit anyone- But I haven’t been able to make enough to get an apartment… I’ve just been sleeping wherever I can at night. I’m not used to sleeping outside- it's terrible! … No offense.” He shrugs.
“ [ Doll ], it's no problem! I dug my own grave, I’ll [ die ] in it!” … You don’t like the phrasing of that.
“… Uhh, well, I might need to find a job soon. But I don’t really think I’m qualified.”
“I’m sure you have many [ skills at your disposal ]!”
“Well, I don’t know how to do any of the things they do here… But I guess I’ll have to learn…
...Okay, first thing tomorrow, I’ll try to look for a job.”
“That’s the spirit! Eahahah!” His laugh sounds less grating this time, but you’re not quite used to it yet. Still sounds like a broken toy… You know, now that you think of it, he COULD be a broken toy. If so, you shouldn’t judge him for it. Your thoughts are interrupted as Spamton jumps to his feet, and offers his hand to you. “LET’S MAKE A DEAL, [ kiddo ]!” His confident grin returns. “You get a job and a nice [ living space ], and I’ll offer you the best of my wares! I have a shop at the junkyard- I fix up old [ odds and ends ], I’m sure I’d have something you could use! I’ll give you the [ BIG SHOT ] discount [ 100—], [50 PERCENT OFF!]!” You pause for a moment to process his “deal”. He wants you to come back and buy something once you’ve settled down? He’s been understanding, and somewhat pleasant so far (despite the whole punching the dumpster thing), and his weirdly charming attitude is starting to grow on you- like a feral raccoon that doesn’t bite you as long as you give it food and attention.
“Uhh I guess… I can do that. Deal.” He lights up and shakes your hand with gusto. He has a strong grip, for a little guy. And you now have a very disgusting hand you need to clean. And no sink to clean it in. Great. “...I’m still a little scared to go back out there. There are enemies and I’m kinda running on empty…” He pats your head.
“You can stay here until you’re ready to [ head out ]! Feel free to [ rest and relaxation ], on this pillow! I’ll be quiet, promise!” He climbs into his dumpster and hunkers down like when a cat is trying to get comfy. You’d be touched that he’s being so kind to you, a complete stranger, but you start to wonder if he’s just trying to make up for making you cry. Either way, it's kindness, and you’re too tired to ponder his intentions. You want to sleep, but it'd be insane to sleep here, with a stranger, in an alleyway, on a disgusting, wet pillow. With a homeless, possibly insane puppet man in the dumpster next to you. That’s the worst thing you could do in the situation you’re in.
… But like, what’s there to lose? You’re homeless too. And he’s been nice. You just have to trust that he’s too clumsy and small to murder you. You begin weighing your options as you’re already resting on the pillow. Your thoughts fade into darkness as sleep takes you quickly, the exhaustion from everything you’ve been through weighing you down... The cold chill of the stagnant air fades away as you drift off...
…..