Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The show had been going great, really. Some of the best ratings they’d ever had, in fact! It was amazing how something as simple as changing up the formula of their programs by a little bit could make the show so much better. So much more, well, entertaining. He should have invested in a business partner years ago! These ideas were just- so fresh!

It was nearing the mid-point of this particular program, the last one for today, a cooking competition. It was just about time to cut to commercial- no- a special sponsor break, and everything was going just swell!

And then he slipped.

He had no idea how it happened. Maybe one of the contestants had spilled something accidentally? Maybe the floors had been polished too much? Maybe there was something wrong with his shoes-? Regardless of how it happened, one minute he was standing, animatedly narrating the events of the show, and the next found him dazed, suddenly staring at the ceiling above.

Everyone had gone silent, waiting to see what would happen next. Was this reason to cut the show short…? Should they do something?

Tenna felt his screen flicker. He hoped he hadn’t knocked anything loose. He brought a hand up to his head and laughed. “Hah, silly me!” he hopped back up, making it look simple. He shrugged, seeming embarrassed, then smiled at the cameras, “Now who left that banana peel there!?”

The studio audience laughed. Wonderful! They’d seen it as a joke, not an accident. Now the show could continue as planned. 

As soon as he’d stepped off stage for the night, his business partner, the one who always gave him such good ideas, Spamton, scurried up to him. He slapped the back of the larger man’s leg and howled, “Wow [[Big Shot]], I really thought you finally [ONLY NOW, 50% OFF!]ed, yourself there for a second! How’d the ground feel?” he cackled.

Tenna laughed nervously, letting his hand feel out the back of his head, “Well, you know, it was, ah, hard?” It definitely wasn’t as painless as he made it seem, at any rate. Even now, it still hurt a bit. He’s grateful he didn’t crack his screen.

The pair began heading back to their shared suite for the night. “I’m surprised I managed to save it though, a little hard to believe that it actually worked, hah!”

“You’d better be glad it did! If it didn’t, you? Me? This whole thing? It’d all be [[Toaster Strudel™]]’s, you know that?”

“You really think something like that would…ruin everything?” Was that a dent he felt…? He pulled his hand away. Surely not.

Spamton threw his hands up. “Think that?! You’ve got it all wrong, big guy, I know that’s what would happen.”

“You do? How? Don’t go trying to tell me you can see the future or something like that, now.”

“[[Back to the Future]]?! No, no! It’s all about the past!”

“The…past?”

“Bingo! Hey, c’mere for a sec,” he stopped and motioned for Tenna to lean over, so he did. Spamton pointed a finger in the air, “Here’s a little [Tricks of the Trade!] from me to you, pal.” he pointed his finger at the middle of his screen, above his nose, and said, “In this kind of business? You never show that you’re [weak], you never show that you’re [BOILING ME IN OIL], you can’t show anyone that you aren’t [[Smarter than a 5th Grader?]], you hear?”

Tenna nodded.

“If you do, everyone’s just gonna step all over you! Do you know why?”

He shook his head. 

Spamton turned around, throwing his hands back into the air, “Because they can!” If they know you’re [fresh meat for my pot!] they’ll eat you alive! They’ll think it’s okay to just steal from you and kick you to the curb like it’s nothing, ‘cause it’ll be [as easy as 1, 2, 3] to! You getting any of this through that tin can of yours or am I gonna have to repeat myself?”

Tenna brought a hand to his chin. “I… think I'm picking up what you’re putting down...”

“I sure [hope] so! Cause I sure as [hell] wasn’t actually gonna repeat all that.”

Truth be told, Tenna kind of wasn’t listening. But he figured he got the gist. He stood back upright and the two continued to walk. 

“Hey, ah, Spam?” He fumbled around his pockets for the keys to their door. Spamton hummed to show he was listening. “You think when we get inside if you could, uh, I dunno, maybe…”

“Spit it out, cathode.”

The door unlocked, and he pushed it open, “Check me over? Like…for…dents, and stuff.”

Spamton gave him a confused look. “‘And stuff’? What, you think you blew a fuse or something?” He went inside, taking his jacket off. “Come on now, you’re a big boy, don’t tell me you went and actually [Ow! Ouch! Has this ever happened to-] yourself for real, did you? You can’t be that washed up already, are you?”

He removed his own coat as well, rubbing his arm nervously. “I…hah, n-no of course not.” Washed up…? He wasn’t…old…right? Not yet, he couldn’t be. “It’s…it’s probably nothing. It’s gonna take more than a little fall like that to bring this guy down,” he said, lightly giving a few knocks to the side of his head.

Spamton laughed, “There you go, that’s the kind of attitude the people wanna see! Hey, I’m gonna go [play with mysel-]>>!” He inhaled. “ Take a shower, don’t wait up, yeah?”

Tenna smirked. “Yeah, of course, sounds good. I’m just gonna head to bed I think.” There was a weird buzzing sound he’d noticed since they arrived, and he really hoped it wasn’t coming from him.

He kicked off his shoes and changed into more appropriate sleepwear, before sitting on the side of the bed. He tried to take stock of himself for a moment.

His head hurt, for one. But really anyone’s probably would after falling like that. It was likely nothing.

He remembered one time, when the kids were a bit younger, the family had left for the day. They’d packed as though they were going on a longer trip, and while Tenna found himself upset with the idea that he’d be unused during that time, he was happy to see everyone getting along. They had left, and he began to wait, expecting them to be gone for at least a week, with everything they’d brought with them.

But then, the next day, they’d returned home early.

He recalled Toriel being the first to enter, holding a sleeping Asriel in her arms. She seemed angry. Kris trailed behind them, fiddling with the yarns at the bottom of their shirt, looking anxious.

And then Asgore entered. He tried to say something but Toriel wasn’t having it. Kris sat on the couch, and dug their hand through the cushions. Looking for the TV remote, he assumed. Toriel left, stating she was putting Asriel in bed to rest, and that she and Asgore would have a talk later.

He would watch TV with Kris for a few hours, before they fell asleep. Asgore carried them to bed afterwards, and then returned to the couch, pillow and blanket in hand.

Toriel came downstairs shortly after, and-

He didn’t like thinking about these times.

They argued. Something about a camping trip, about a tree, and Asriel. A hospital was mentioned. She said something about a concussion.

He had heard the term before, and knew vaguely that it was a type of head injury. Thank goodness for TV being so educational.

The arguing went on for a bit longer after that. But he supposed it would sort itself out. It always did, after all. The next day would be smiles again.

A concussion.

Maybe that’s what he had, as well? Could a TV even get one of those? If not, what would the equivalent even be? A snapped PCB, maybe? No, he’d probably be dead if that happened. A cracked tube?

Well, definitely not that. He’d for sure be dead if that happened. Dead before he’d even left the set, the second he’d fallen. He shuddered to think of the damage he’d cause.

It was probably just a dry solder joint somewhere. Or maybe he’d knocked a wire loose. Something easy to fix. He’d just need to…find someone to fix it. Someone who wasn’t Spamton. 

He couldn’t think of anyone else he’d trust enough to handle it.

Tenna laughed dryly to himself, “Well, I guess…I could always get it figured out tomorrow, haha.” He laid back, and listened to the buzzing.

thunk, thunk

“Alright, up and at ‘em [CRT]! Don’t you think you’ve slept long enough already? Usually you’re more of an [The early bird gets the worm] than this.”

thunk. thunkthunk

Spamton sat himself on top of Tenna’s chest, and continued to knock on the man’s head. “We don’t got all day to be slacking off, [you lazy bum], we have a job to get to, in case you forgot?”

Tenna stirred a bit, his screen slowly starting to come to life, the sounds of faint crackling accompanying the action. He noted that it didn’t really feel like he’d slept at all. Not to mention the just terrible headache he was currently a victim of. His brain felt so full of static. He shook his head to-

“Gh-! zzfhk-!!!” His body seized involuntarily, nearly knocking Spamton off of him and onto the floor. 

“H-hey, watch it!”

He gasped. His screen flashed colors, flickering off and back on a few times, antennas twitching. Something caught, something was burning.

Spamton grabbed either sides of the TV’s head, holding him in place the best he could. “Hey! Te[Ten! Million! Dollars!], cut that out, would you? Calm the [$#%*] down!”

Tenna’s arm reached up and gripped the smaller man’s shoulder. He jerked, fist clenching. With static, he tried to speak, “Sp-a-   n-   t-  “ His screen flickered off, then back on again, showing a colorbar pattern.

“Alright, you’re starting to [$#%*]ing me out now, y-you can stop now, you know.” He didn’t actually think that was true. He let go of the man’s screen and switched his focus to attempting to pry the giant hand off of him. God damnit! Maybe he should’ve checked the guy out when he’d asked. What the hell was wrong with him?

And suddenly, it stopped. The thick smell of burnt wires hung in the air. Tenna’s head fell back onto the bed, the rest of him going with it. The arm holding onto Spamton fell limp. The TV’s screen seemed to settle on the typical blank white of his face, but the picture was incredibly dim. There were a few black bands across the bottom of the screen, as well.

The two of them sat, breathing.

Spamton ran a hand through his hair. “What the actual [hell] was that?” He tilted his head, pointing, “What’s wrong with your…face?” he asked.

Tenna brought a hand up to it. “My face?” his voice sounded quiet, and like it’d been run through a filter, like it was somehow farther away than it actually was. “What’s wr-   -ith my face?” His voice was cut with static.

‘That’s what I just asked YOU, idiot!’ he wanted to snap, but he didn’t.

“It’s…[well, well, well], it’s-” he wasn’t sure what to say. Just tell him he’s busted, he’s just gonna have to be okay with that. Tell him he’s-

He wasn’t sure what to say. He wasn’t-

Tenna smiled, his screen flickered.

Was this guy dying-!? He wasn’t qualified for-! 

“W-what’s the-   -tter, Spamt-   ? CRT got your tongue?” he laughed, his head unconsciously jerking to the side with the action. There was definitely something wrong with him, but seeing Spamton fumble to find words was admittedly kind of amusing. He’d always been such a fast talking little guy. He let his screen shut off, it felt like far too much effort to keep looking around at everything. His head was killing him. Everything felt cloudy.

Spamton’s eyes darted around the room nervously. “H-h-hey! Don’t go [passing out deals like these!] on me now, [[Big Shot]], I don’t know if-” he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to handle that, “look I don’t think you’re very [peaches and cream] right now and I don’t think I could-” his mouth snapped closed. He couldn’t just tell the guy that he thought he was seriously broken. That he thought he wouldn’t be able to fix whatever was wrong with him. He knew cars , not CRTs. There was only so much of that knowledge that transferred over. Small issues here and there? Sure, that was doable. Something like this? He wasn’t sure. This was…different.

He didn’t like being unsure. Not knowing.

He lightly shook at the larger man’s shoulder. Ordinarily, he’d try tapping at his screen, or the side of his head, but he didn’t want to be the reason anything got worse. “[Hay is for horses], you mind looking at me when I'm talking to you?”

Tenna’s screen flickered back on again. It seemed like it could barely keep a signal at all, the dim light weakly pittering in and out.

“Yeah, thanks,” Spamton started, “say, how’s about I handle things with the show today and you stay here in [[The Big Comfy Couch]] bed and rest a little?” He had no intentions of running the show today at all but it wasn’t like he could just tell the guy that. He continued, “I mean, hey, it’s not like I don’t know how to handle myself out there or anything. And you deserve it right? We can call it a…[FREE! EVERYTHING MUST GO!] vacation day, yeah? Sound good?”

Tenna stared straight ahead. He didn’t have eyes in the usual sense of course, but it seemed as though he was looking straight through the little businessman, rather than at him. He felt like he was floating. Wasn’t he in pain a moment ago? For some reason, none of his thoughts were connecting to anything.

“Did you listen to any of that, tube brain?”

A large hand reached up, and landed on top of Spamton’s head.

“What are you-?”

It began to shakily stroke at his hair.

…

He didn’t know what to say.

Tenna breathed in, “Sssp-   -mton?” he asked.

Spamton didn’t answer. Something felt bad.

“I think I get-   -t-t-  now. What y-   mean.”

“I don’t think [I’m picking up what you’re putting down…] T[[TV! TIME!]]” He felt kind of sick.

Tenna laughed, but it was more of a warbled buzzing noise. “You know! About- about- about- “ his hand spasmed, holding still, “abou-   -t-t-   Heaven.”

He heard a popping noise, like rotten glass, and Tenna’s screen went dark. His arm went limp as well, but Spamton caught it before it could fall.

That felt final.

He stared at the larger man’s hand.

He didn’t know what to say.

…

He placed his own hand into the palm of the other’s.

Something lurched inside him. It hurt.

He held on.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed before he decided to look up. But he did, eventually. 

Black screen.

Dead. He's dead. He died, idiot. Because you didn’t feel like checking him out. Because you just had to convince him that he was fine. You could’ve done something. You could’ve and yet you decided not to. You chose this. You-

He slammed a fist down onto the bed.

He didn’t know how, but he’d figure out a way to fix this.

He leaned over and laid the side of his face on Tenna’s screen. There was no warmth. It felt hard to breathe.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

He closed his eyes, bringing a hand to his head. He carded his fingers through the strands of his hair, and breathed. He could almost imagine the hand belonged to someone else.

…

He sat up. 

Swinging his legs around, he hopped off the bed, and headed for the door. He quickly slipped on a pair of shoes, and grabbed the keys.

“I’ll figure this out, yeah?” he called out, “Try not to get yourself into any [toil and trouble] while I'm gone, okay?”

He stepped out the door without looking back.

Chapter Text

It was a rather average morning when Ramb clocked in to work that day. Just as quiet as ever. A few strays who weren’t due to be anywhere anytime soon hung around the green room, chatting. He swiped a cloth across the bar absentmindedly. If anything, it was a rather slow morning. It wouldn’t be for long, however.

Spamton hurried into the room, and sat up at the bar. He placed a hand on top of it, crossing his legs. “Ramb, you’re fired.”

Ramb looked up, “...Excuse me?”

He shook his head, holding a hand up. “No, nevermind, that wouldn’t be [smart choices? smarter deals!], not yet. Hang on a minute.”

“I’m…not quite sure I'm following, ch-”

“Shh!” Spamton held up a finger. He seemed a bit frazzled, though Ramb couldn’t imagine why. Tenna would be on soon, and she was sure the two of them had something interesting planned for the programs today, like always lately. They were always up to some new scheme. “We aren’t- okay. Fire everyone else, and then you can [Fire! There’s a fire!!] yourself afterwards.”

Ramb just stared at the other man. He hated to jump to drug based conclusions, but…

“Don’t look at me like that!! What isn’t [click the left mouse button to claim your free-]ing?” A moment of silence. “Wait! No, I totally get it.” he laughed, “You can’t just fire everyone! We can’t- hah! The show, you’re right!”

“I hadn’t said anything yet, lu-”

Spamton interrupted once more, eyes shifting around the room, “Ramb I need you to [Hey! Listen!] to me real quick okay?” he looked dead in the bartender’s eyes, and spoke with a more serious tone, “After those weather freaks are done doing their thing out there, I’m gonna need you to make sure that nothing but reruns get played for [Half price, FOREVER!], do you think you can do that? I need to go take care of something very, very, important [Get out of town!] for a while.”

Ramb looked around the room and gave a nervous chuckle. Something wasn’t quite right about all this. “I…I don’t believe I'm understanding why I would need to…handle that? The show?” He was usually never allowed to mess with anything related to the show. Tenna’s orders. Be it the points, the contestants, or even the backstage dealings. Being asked to switch programs around was a bit odd, to be sure. “Not that I can’t , of course,” she reassured, “Just…isn’t Tenna-”

Spamton sat up straighter and reached himself across the counter a bit, perhaps to give off the impression of more height. He was already a slight bit taller than Ramb as it stood, but it didn’t make much difference either way. He spoke dryly, “Te[[Telenovela]] can’t make it today. As a matter of fact, make sure nobody bothers him either.”

Ramb tilted his head, letting his ears flop about. “Oh? Is he feeling quite alright? He seemed fine just yesterday. Oh I should have known to look through-”

“He isn’t making it for a while, actually. Probably. I don’t [We don’t know! For sure.]”

The plug squinted. Something fishy was definitely going on. “What do you mean by that, exactly?” she started, “Why can’t he make it? What’s wrong with him? Y’know I did hear there was an accident on set yesterday, but…”

“Well, I already told you everything I needed to [[Mary had a little]] Ramb. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have business to take care of!” Spamton hopped off the stool he’d been perched on and started making his leave.

“Hey! Now just you wait a second-!” Ramb made his way around the counter and started pursuing the other. “You can’t just up an’ leave without explaining yourself!” Spamton started walking faster.

A zapper quickly stood between Spamton and the exit, blocking the doors. “Sorry boss, can’t letcha through here.”

“What the [$#%*]! You can’t do that!” He turned around and pointed a finger at Ramb, “Who gave you the authority to do that, you little-”

Ramb grabbed up the other man’s wrist and started pulling him back towards the bar.

Spamton was stunned. “Wh- what do you think you’re doing?! You can’t just [touch me] you little [[Freakazoid!]]” He tried to pull away from the grasp, but it was in vain. He didn’t think that Ramb would be so…strong. He was usually so calm and, well, kind. She didn’t seem the type to flip on that act so easily.

The two arrived back at the bar, and Ramb walked them both around to the back. She let go of the wrist she’d been holding and took a step closer, forcing Spamton’s back to the wall. He glared, speaking quietly so as to not arouse too much suspicion from the few still hanging around in the green room, “You need to tell me what happened to Tenna before I go an’ find out for myself, do you hear me?”

Spamton laughed, “I don’t really think you’re in a position to be making [THE MAN’S] right now. If you’d remember, I’m above you, you know.”

Ramb took a paw, grabbed the other’s shoulder, and shoved it backwards against the wall forcefully. “I don’t think you quite understand what my position in this studio even is, luv.”

“Hey! [Watch it!] there, buddy! Don’t wanna go making a scene now do we?” He reached up and removed the limb from his shoulder, “We can talk about this like professionals, can’t we?” He began to slide out, making his way around back to the front of the bar, but was stopped.

“I think you’ve lost the right to talk to me like a professional the second you decided to take on off outta here, now tell me what happened nicely so this can all pass easily, or I will cause a scene.”

Spamton huffed, “Why’s it matter to you? I told you what you needed to take care of today, and it’s got [NOTHING, but a NOTHING] to do with him anyways!”

“It matters to me because unlike some ,” he pushed a finger to Spamton’s chest, “people around here, I actually happen to care about the guy”

The two glared at each other.

“Are you implying I don’t give a [$&%*] about him?!” he snapped.

“That’s exactly what I’m implying,” Ramb confirmed, “you’re nothin’ but a sleazy spam email trying to take advantage of his position, his show. You're jus’ lucky nobody else here can see through you quite like I can. And you’re lucky I'd never be the one to break the news to him. That his partner was usin’ him. It’d just tear him apart.” He wrapped his arms around himself and shook his head.

“If that’s what you think is [going on- on?] then you’ve got it all [LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER]! Did you even consider that he’s the one trying to use me? I mean hey! Who exactly of the [[Just the Two of Us]] was successful before I showed up here? Not him! That’s for sure!”

Ramb threw her hands in the air exasperatedly, stepping around into the green room, “That’s just what you want everyone to think, isn’t it? That Tenna was strugglin’ an’ you showed up like his own personal angel to fix everything, yeah? Because you care about him, right? That’s the story you want to tell everyone?”

“Well it's only true!”

Ramb shook his head, “If that’s what you wanna sit there and tell everyone then be my guest, luv.” He took off in the direction of the rooms. “I’ve got a few things to take care of, yeah?” he called, swinging around a pair of keys in the air, “Shouldn’t be nothin’ to worry about though, it’s got nothin’ to do with you, after all.”

“What-” Spamton patted himself down frantically, checking his pockets. He couldn’t have grabbed…when would he even have had the opportunity to-?

His keys were missing.

“[$#%*]! That little-” He went to punch the nearby wall, but stopped and took a breath. He couldn’t have anyone thinking he was violent now could he? He exited the back of the bar and began to follow after Ramb, but was stopped once more by a zapper in front of the doors.

“Look, I really need to get through here right now so if you could just-” he moved to shove the remote out of the way but was blocked.

“No can do, boss! Tenna’s orders!”

Tenna’s-?

“What do you mean T[Text now for-] [$#%*]!” He kicked at the ground, frustrated, “What do you mean he said not to let me through? It’s important, you stupid [$#%*]ing-”

“What was that, sir?”

He looked up at the zapper- at the minor roadblock- and considered his options.

“Wow, boss, you’s got that crazy look in yer eyes, haha! Don’t worry though, I’m sure pretty soon…” 

He had stopped listening. He quickly glanced around the room. Aside from the annoyance in front of him, there didn’t seem to be anyone else around. They must have all left.

…

“H-hey lets not- HEY! What the-?! YEOWCH! Gh- get offa me!”

Since there was nothing blocking the door, Spamton ran past them, and quickly made his way down the hall. It was strange how things just worked out sometimes.

He noted, however, that Ramb could not be seen for the entire length of it. That definitely wasn’t ideal. He hoped she hadn’t already-

Fuck.

Ramb knocked lightly on the door. “Mr. Tenna? I know you asked- well, I know you allegedly asked for nobody to bother you, luv, but I just wanted to check and see if…” he laughed a bit to himself, “well you know me, always stickin’ my nose where it doesn’t belong an’ all that.”

He waited patiently for an answer. An answer that did not come. A sudden feeling of dread washed over him, and he wasn’t quite sure why.

“Tenna, dear, are you alright?” she tried again, pressing an ear to the door.

Still, nothing could be heard from within. Well, he could be sleeping. That could be why he didn’t want to be disturbed.

The way that mailman had been acting about the whole situation said otherwise, though. He couldn’t help but assume the worst.

Oh dear. She fumbled with the keys, moving to unlock the door. “Tenna, luv, I'm going to come in now, alright?” The door opened. “Please don’t be upset…” she whispered, stepping inside, being sure to lock the door back up afterwards.

She turned around and examined the room. Tenna seemed to be in bed, asleep. Everything appeared to be normal. So why…

He walked up to the bed. Tenna lied, motionless. A bit… too still, in fact. The feeling of dread reappeared with a vengeance. He almost expected the TV to suddenly wake up and ask what Ramb was doing in his bedroom.

He took a breath. “Tenna, darling, I hope I'm not being too much of a bother but…” he placed a paw on the man’s shoulder, “I…wanted to check an’…see if…”

Tenna was freezing.

Alarm bells rang off in her head. She felt the front of his screen. There was no hum, no static, no warmth. Ordinarily, even when he was sleeping there was still something there. Some kind of tangible feedback, signs that there was something going on. Signs of…life.

She felt sick.

Had…Spamton done this? Is that why he’d been so nervous? So quick to try and skip town? To try and fire everybody, so nobody would find out? She knew he was a slimy guy but she never figured he’d go as far as to…murder somebody. Murder…Tenna.

He closed his eyes and shook his head. That…well it just couldn’t be right. He turned to face the wall, rather than the bed. It didn’t feel right to stare.

It wasn’t adding up. If he had done this, if he was responsible, there must have been a reason, right? It couldn’t have been to take full control of the show, considering the whole…trying to fire everyone angle. If everyone was gone, he’d have nobody to work for him. Not that anyone would work for him willingly, after finding out that he’d done something so awful. Even those who claimed to hate Tenna didn’t really truly mean it. But if that wasn’t the reason for this then…what was? Did he want anything else?

Was it just…a fight? A disagreement that got too out of hand? He found it rather easy to believe that something could have occurred that way. With the both of them being able to get angry at a moment’s notice, it didn’t seem out of the realm of possibility that they’d fight. But…

He glanced back at the bed for a moment. Tenna didn’t seem to have anything physically wrong with him, appearance-wise. One would think that if they’d fought, something would be amiss. A few scratches, bite marks maybe. Something, at least. But there was nothing.

It also…didn’t really track, that Spamton would be capable of causing something this…severe. Even if they did fight. He wasn’t much smaller than an average Darkner, maybe a bit shorter than average, but Tenna was much, much larger. Even at his normal height, he towered over everyone in the studio, easily. There was no way Spamton would be able to overpower the guy. He couldn’t even manage to shake Ramb off of him, a moment ago. And he was…nothing compared to Tenna.

She didn’t understand. If Spamton didn’t…kill the guy- even if he had a reason to, he simply couldn’t have- then what happened to him?

THUNK

He jumped. Something slammed against the door.

“RAMB! You need to [You HAVE to!] open this door ri-[right now, right now!] o-or i’m gonna- trust me y-you’re not gonna be [[Sunshine, Lollipops and-]] when im through with you, do you hear me?!” 

Spamton.

THUNK

Ramb hurried to the door, but hesitated in unlocking it.

THUNK

“I-I’m not [messing around here, folks!]! I mean it, Ramb, when I get in there your [@$$] is [grass] buster!”

THUNK

Ramb held the door handle, and leaned on the door. “Spamton stop. Other people are going to hear you an’-”

THUNK

“You think I [$#%*]ing [[Care Bears]] if anyone hears?! I’ll just…”

THUNK

“[Pin the tail on the] you !!”

THMP

“Spamton, please, I’m not…” she didn't know what to tell him, “I’m not trying to be confrontational, luv, not…not anymore I jus’...”

thmp

She spoke softly, “I jus’ wanna know what happened, that’s all.”

She heard a hand get placed on the door before sliding off of it. “And then you’ll…?”

He nodded, even if Spamton couldn’t see it. “Then I'll open the door for you, yes, I promise.” He placed a hand on his chest, “Plug’s honor, yeah?”

A moment of silence passed. Ramb let it be. He had all the time in the world to wait.

“He…” Spamton began, before going silent again. It seemed difficult for him. Ramb frowned. “Well you saw, he[‘s died].”

“Yes,” he began. He wouldn’t ever be able to forget. “I saw, but…how did that happen, exactly? You didn’t…do…that…did you?” 

Something smacked up against the door. “You think I [[Killed]] him?! Ramb i’m an [HonestMan], you didn’t really think that I’d-”

“No! I- well- I can’t say it didn’t cross my mind but…I didn’t think you’d actually…”

“Good. Cause I wouldn’t- I couldn’t I-” he paused, “I didn’t.” Ramb heard him breathing through the door. He sounded panicked. “I didn’t. I didn’t do that. I- he- there was nothing- I didn’t, I didn’t.” He heard him get to his knees and hit the floor outside. A sob. “Ramb I didn’t do that,” he whispered. 

Ramb felt horrible. He wanted to open the door already, give the guy a hug and tell him it would all be okay, but he had made his offer already. He had to stick to it. “I believe you,” he said, “but if you didn’t do it, then what did?”

For some reason, that seemed to catch Spamton off guard. “I…I don’t [NO].”

“You don’t know?”

“Yesterday,” he started, “there was an [accidents happen!], you mentioned it. [TV! TIME!] fell over, landed right on his [CRT]. The back, not the screen. He was fine, I swear, he ask-” he cut himself off, “In the morning, I was waking him up and he just…” he trailed off.

Ramb considered the explanation. Even with the guy just…falling over, she didn’t really think he’d die from that. Knock a connection loose, sure, maybe, but this? It didn’t really make all that much sense. CRT TVs could take a beating or two, he knew that much.

Spamton spoke again, “I was going to leave, see if I could get a [HUGE DEALS!] on some TV parts back in the city, see if I could fix it but-”

“Did you find out what parts he needed?”

“Did I-?” he paused. “I…guess not. It can’t be too hard, right? Find someone who knows [a thing or two or three] about this kind of stuff, and ask ‘em what they think, right? Get the parts and [skedaddle]!”

Ramb stood there, a little perplexed. “You were just going to guess? Spamton, sweetheart, you can’t be serious.”

“Shut up!” another smack to the door, “I wasn’t thinking straight! I was thinking [[CURVED]]. [Anybody, Anywhere] would do the same!”

She shook her head, admittedly finding some amusement amidst the terrible situation. “Do you want me to take a looksee?” she asked. “Should be quick enough, I’d rather not…be a disturbance for longer than what’s necessary, anyhow.”

“Can I [ENTER now for 10% off your next purchase] first?”

Ramb sighed, finally unlocking the door, “I did say I’d let you in once you explained, didn’t I? I’m not a liar, luv, anyone could tell you that.”

The door opened, and before he could even think about disassembling Tenna, he felt Spamton give him a half-hearted, sort-of hug, before shoving himself away just as quickly. 

“Dont [EVER] expect that to happen again!” he snapped, avoiding any and all eye contact.

Ramb laughed, “I…of course not, of course not,” he said. “Now let’s look an’ see what Tenna’s gonna be needing, shall we?”

Roughly thirty minutes had passed since they’d opened up the man’s head. It was surprisingly empty inside. There were a few things that needed to be moved around and fiddled with before Ramb felt it was clear to keep investigating. Something about discharging. Spamton wasn’t totally sure what electricity they were getting rid of in the first place, considering the guy was already gone. There couldn’t be anything left to get rid of, right? But he digressed.

He watched as the power strip checked over things one by one, seemingly getting more confused as time went on. Watching any of this happen at all felt a bit morbid given the circumstances, and yet…it was, admittedly, kind of interesting. He wouldn’t have thought that Ramb knew so much about this sort of thing, but he guessed it made some amount of sense. Someone around here had to know how to fix the guy, if something ever happened.

Like now, for instance.

“I’m havin’ trouble understanding,” Ramb spoke up.

“What do you mean?” 

“None of this makes sense, he- there’s nothing wrong with him?” she phrased it like a question.

Spamton gave a confused look. “Nothing-?!” He motioned to the guy. “Look at him, he’s [[died]]!”

“I know that!” Ramb said sharply, before lowering her tone once more, “I’m sorry, I am, I just can’t figure out why.”

“I thought you knew this stuff!”

“I do, I mean, I…thought I did…” She wasn’t so sure, now.

“Did you check the-”

“I checked everything, you saw, double checked, even.”

“You didn’t [checked] his [BoobTube].”

Ramb gave him a look. “Why would I check…?” He looked back into the box. “If that were broken we would know. You probably wouldn’t even be here talkin’ to me. Do you know what happens when those break? They…implode…” he trailed off, going silent.

“Ramb?”

“Hah! Well, that’s just…” he brought an arm behind his head, smoothing his hair out, “You don’t really…that’s not somethin’ you see every day, y’know? I don’t…hm. Well I didn’t think that was possible, I suppose.”

“Ramb you’re [Eggo® Waffles]- you’re waffling.”

Ramb sat up straighter. “Right, right, sorry, luv, that’s just…you have to understand.” he leaned back a little. “You were right, it's broken. His tube. I don’t know how he isn’t- well I guess we should consider ourselves lucky he isn’t in a million pieces, yeah?”

They sat in silence for a moment before Spamton spoke up.

“Well, a [BRAND NEW!] one shouldn’t be too hard to get a hold of, right? It’s just one part. Waltz on into a shop, get a new one, [easy as sunday morning].”

To his confusion, Ramb started to laugh, putting his face in his hands. 

He didn’t understand what was so funny. Or…not funny? Ramb placed a paw on his shoulder solemnly.

“Luv, I really wish it were that simple.”

Chapter Text

“Where the [$#%*] am I supposed to find a new god damn-”

thump

Spamton dropped his head onto the steering wheel of his car. This was going to be impossible. It was hopeless, honestly. Ramb had explained that even if someone happened to be selling CRT parts, finding a whole new vacuum tube that wasn’t already broken would be a hard task. It was essentially the biggest, most difficult-to-replace part of the TV, and it would be a miracle to find one at all, let alone one that would fit Tenna correctly. Apparently, the only real way to get one was to get it from a TV that had died for reasons unrelated to the tube failing. Then, the two could be swapped out. What the hell kind of fucked up brain surgery shit what that?!

Ramb had offered to make the trip down to Cyber City alongside him at first, having originally come from there as well, after all, but after thinking it over some more ultimately decided against it. There needed to be someone present at the studio to make sure nobody else found out what had gone down, to keep Tenna company, and to make sure nothing bad happened to him in the meantime. Well, nothing else bad at least. He cringed at the thought of random pippinses raiding Tenna’s- cold, lifeless- body for parts, just to try and gamble them away later.

He started up the car.

It wasn’t too long of a drive to the city, and it hadn’t been that long since he’d last driven there anyhow, in the grand scheme of things. For all intents and purposes, Spamton considered himself still mostly well-regarded by those who lived there. A Big Shot. By most , anyways. He grit his teeth. Honestly though, if he thought about it, he had done a lot for the growth of basic infrastructure down that way, what with the car sales and all.

In between the greater dark worlds, there wasn’t much of, well, anything really. A whole lot of darkness, but that wasn’t technically unusual. Driving down the in-between spaces always felt kind of surreal. In a way, it was almost calming. The headlights on the car never seemed to make any real difference on the inky black darkness outside, almost like the dark itself had swallowed the beams whole.

He was lucky, then, that he didn’t need the lights to know where to go. There was always just…a feeling about it. Something guiding him, telling him where to go, how to get there. Something looking out for him. Intuition, maybe. Maybe something more. Like an angel. He didn’t like to think about it too hard for too long. Trying to parse any of it always just ended up giving him a headache. It was better to just listen.

Soon enough, the bright lights of the city slowly became visible. There was nothing, and then suddenly, as if out of nowhere, lights. There was something special about it. No matter where he decided to move to, or what he decided to pursue, this place would always be Spamton’s home. One way or another, he’d always find his way back here.

He parked the car in front of Queen’s mansion. Technically, he still had a room here, even if he didn’t use it too much as of late. He was glad to still be in good enough graces to be able to keep it, despite his absence.

Entering the massive building, he considered his plan.

He quickly realized he didn’t really have a plan.

Ah well, he’d bullshitted himself out of plenty of situations before, what was one more?

He called out to a nearby swatchling. “Hey, [birdbrain], over here.” They turned, looking around for a moment before spotting him. They pointed at themself, seemingly confused. Their look implied that they were unaware of who he was.

“Yeah, you, ” this one must have been a new hire or something, they seemed one pipis short of a whole basket, if he were being honest, “c’mere for a sec.” The swatchling hurried over.

“I…yes, is there something I could get for you, ah, sir?” they asked, seeming unsure of themself. Maybe a bit nervous. It didn’t seem like they had the whole butler spiel down yet. That was fine, he’d be out of their feathers soon enough.

“Yeah, you could go get me a guy who actually knows what they’re doing, for one,” he stated, staring the perplexed bird down. The poor thing looked like they were about to just keel over and die right on the spot. Spamton laughed suddenly, giving them a few pats on the back. “Hey, don’t act so [Why so serious?]! I was just [Top 10 Jokes]ing around with you, you’re good. Really though, you mind gettin’ a hold of Swatch for me?” He tapped at his wrist, indicating an imaginary watch. “Important business, you [Understand, understand].”

They stood for a moment, letting the exchange set in, before nodding quickly, “O-of course, sir, I'll get right on that!” They sped off down one of the mansion’s many halls.

“Tell ‘em Spamton needs to talk!” he yelled out after them.

Well, there wasn’t much left to do now but wait for Swatch to show up. He didn’t really think they’d know anything about where to find CRT parts. In fact, he didn’t think they’d know the first thing about where to buy much of anything outside the mansion, let alone something so apparently rare, but he had to at least give asking about it a shot. Swatch was kind of his best bet as of now, so long as he wanted to avoid conversation with those he’d rather not mention.

Sure enough, after some time, they showed up. 

“Spamton,” they exclaimed, surprised, “fancy seeing you turn up again. We were nearly beginning to think you’d disappeared for good, you know.”

Spamton waved a hand around in the air. “Ehh, don’t be so [[Lights. Drama. Action!]], you can’t get rid of me that easily! I’ll always come [crawling on my knees] right back here, you know that.”

Swatch smirked. “Of course, of course, how could I ever assume otherwise?” They placed a wing to the man’s shoulder. “Would you like to chat over a cup of juice, in the cafe perhaps?”

Spamton shifted slightly. “I…don’t really know if I've got the kind of [[TIME]] on my hands for that sort of thing right now, actually,” he said, “I mostly just wanted to [QnA] you a few questions real fast.”

They let their wing fall, bringing it to rest with the other behind their back. If they seemed disappointed, it had to have been a trick of the light. “I see. A time sensitive matter, then?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

Swatch hummed. “Well, I can’t promise to have the answers you’ll be looking for, but I will try my best. If you would, then?”

Spamton looked up. “Right, well you see, there was…” he thought for a moment, considering how best to explain the situation without actually having to explain anything. “Something happened, yeah? Really no good at all, really [just terrible!], an accident. You following?”

“Always.”

“Good. So anyways,” he began to pace back and forth, gesturing to get his point across, “ that happened, and to make a really [long story short], I’m looking to get my [[Gorilla Grippers!]] on some TV parts.”

“A television?”

Spamton jumped up, snapping his fingers. “Yes! Exactly that, Swatch [my [[they]]]! But I don’t mean one of those new-fangled flat screened [Hochi Mama]’s! No sir! I’m talking vintage, Swatch, good ol’ reliable CRT! You wouldn’t happen to know where I could go to find some parts, would you?”

Swatch seemed to consider the request for a moment. They weren’t quite sure why Spamton would come to them with this sort of thing. Considering, well, they weren’t certain they could explain a single thing about TV repair even if their life depended on it. They worked for a laptop, after all, not a television. There would be no need for such knowledge. “Spamton,” the man perked up, “I’ll begin by offering my apologies. I’m unsure of where you might be able to procure such offerings, unfortunately. However, I simply must ask…why look here, of all places?”

“Here? Well I…” He looked a bit crestfallen. He may not have expected Swatch to have any answers, but some part of him hoped they would anyway. He hoped that despite the chances, someone would throw him a bone. Make it a little bit easier, at least. 

He hoped wrong, he guessed.

Swatch spoke once more, leaning in a bit closer, “I don’t mean to step out of line, of course,” they began, “but I was under the impression that you had…connections, in the city proper. Was I wrong in assuming as much?”

Spamton stood still, staring at nothing. He took a breath.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Swatch. I think I should-”

“I’m not wrong, am I?” they interrupted, “I do remember a small number of them coming by, a while back. They were inquiring as to your whereabouts. I was unable to give an answer, as not even I knew where you were- are, residing. I assumed you were friendly with them, yes?”

He felt his mouth go dry. “Swatch, I-” he gave a weak laugh, grimacing, “W-would you look at the [[TIME]], I should really-”

“They all looked a bit similar, much like yourself, I would say. A strange bunch, those ad-”

“Swatch!! [STOP], go [GO TO JAIL], do not [PASS GO], do not [COLLECT $200], I have to [leave], I have to [Going, going, gone!] I’m sorry!” 

And just like that, Spamton was gone. 

Swatch frowned. They didn’t realize that that conversation topic would strike such a nerve.

…

They wished he’d have stayed to share some juice.

Spamton moved to strike a fist into the side of his car, but held off. He couldn’t. Not to the car. They wouldn’t get that from him. He huffed, settling instead to clench his fists and stomp around outside of it, kicking the gravel around.

Like a toddler.

…

“GRRAUGH!! [Stupid, stupid, stupid]!” He grabbed at his hair. “Who [does?] that! Nobody [does?] that! [Congratulations! It’s a girl!], you made yourself [Look? See?] like a [[GOD]] damned [Idiot sandwich] in front of [[Big Bird]]!! G[[GOD]]- [$#%*]!”

He slid down the side of the car door and sat on the ground. How hard was it to just act normal during a normal fucking conversation?! What the hell was his problem?!

“Spamton? Is everything alright in there?”

There was knocking. Somebody was knocking. Outside the door. His- the dressing room. No, that wasn’t…the bedroom. It was the bedroom. Someone was knocking on the bedroom door. He should get that.

“Spamton? I don’t really…hah! Well I’m not really sure what’s going on in there or…why you left…um. So suddenly. But, ah, whenever you wanna let me in i’ll be waiting out here, okay?”

He wasn’t sure what was going on in there. In here. In the bedroom. It was the bedroom. Someone was knocking- they-

“I’m not going anywhere, okay? I promise.”

He looked around the room. The bedroom. Why was he…? 

“If it was something we showed…I hope you know I’m sorry.”

He stared at the floor. Something wasn’t making sense.

“And…If you’re worried about interrupting the show or anything, um, don’t be. I handled it.”

It wasn’t making sense. They were recording. They were on stage. They weren’t in the bedroom.

“You know, you’d probably find it kinda funny, actually, I uh…broke it. You know, the camera. Shuttah isn’t gonna be too happy about that but, hey, at least we know that one’s never making it to air, haha!”

Why was he in the bedroom? They were on stage, and then…

“I um. Well I broke the tape, too. It sounds kinda stupid now, I guess, but… well I just don’t know what came over me! You…flipped. When we showed it. I’d never seen that kind of look on your face, y’know? It…well it scared me.”

He stood, and made his way over to the door.

“When you ran off stage looking like you’d seen a ghost, I was worried. I guess my first thought was just, ‘Turn off everything! Get rid of it, doesn’t matter how!’ and, well.”

He sat down.

“I guess it doesn’t sound very smart, does it? Maybe it wasn’t.”

…

“After that I just…went after you. Found you locked up all by your lonesome in here,” two quiet knocks rattled the door.

…

“I figure…even if you ran off like that, you probably didn’t want to be alone, you know?” A laugh. “I mean, I know when I’m not feeling great, what helps me the most is just…having people around? Is that…do you think that’s stupid? I’m not being too corny, am I? Ah geez, maybe that was a little-”

thmp

Tenna’s antennae jumped at the sound. “Spamt-?”

“[CRT], you’re always too corny. You know that? It’s [100%] okay though, you were born on the cob. There’s no fixing you.”

“Wh- hey! I come here and sit with you and you want to insult me for it? I can’t believe this! You can’t be…huh?” He felt something poke at his leg from under the door. He looked down to see four fingers trying to slide out from the other side. “I…what?” He laughed, “Spam, you could just open the door, you know.”

“No can do, you’re [BANNED] from seeing me. [[Forever]]. This is what you get.”

“Forever?! But that’s…that’s so long! That’s like…forever or something! I don’t think I’m gonna be able to make it that long!”

“You’re just gonna have to [[Deal or No Deal]] with it.”

Tenna pouted. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Can you rethink it a little bit? For me?”

“Hmm…let me think it over.”

He waited.

“[NO].”

“Aww.”

…

Tenna glanced at the hand still trying to scramble its way under the door. “Well, I guess since Spamton doesn’t want me to see him, I’ll have to just settle for this…uh…hand. Guy. Instead.” He laid his hand over top of the other, before deciding to shrink down and properly grab it. He grinned, and tugged on it a little.

“Ow! Hey!”

 It swiftly made its way back to the other side.

“You can’t just become [Weenie Hut Jr.] size and try to drag me up out of here! That’s- that’s- you could have [[Killed]] me!”

He laughed, “You would’ve been fine, Spam. You're so small, I’m sure the door wouldn’t even notice it if you tried to crawl under there.”

thump!

“I am not [small]! I’ll have you know I'm average. ”

“Hmm…I don’t know…sounds like something someone small would say.”

The door opened, and he was suddenly shoved forward, nearly falling onto his screen.

“How’s that for [small]! How’s the floor taste, pal?”

“How’d the ground-”

Tenna couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

He laughed too, after a while.

He cried. He sat on the pavement of the mansion parking lot and cried. He wasn’t a crier. This wasn’t something he did. All because, what, Swatch decided to bring up a few nobodies? He was better than this. Better than them, better than anyone! He could put the stupid shit behind him for a day. For a day, that’s it. He could suck it up. He needed to. He had to see if they knew anything. If they could…if they’d be willing to…

He shivered, got up off the ground, and dusted himself off. There was no way any of them would be seeing him grovelling for help anytime soon. He could spin it his way. It’s what he did best, after all. 

He’d just need to make a few deals.

Chapter Text

Spamton pulled his car into the center of the shopping district feeling, well, as cool as a cucumber. Things couldn’t be going better honestly. Absolutely nothing could ruin his enthusiasm, nothing. He’d show up, take care of his business, and then get out of dodge. Easy as anything.

…

That’s what he’d like to believe, anyway. Didn’t really have a choice in the matter, all things considered. But there was really no use in dwelling on it.

Getting out of the car, he peered down the street. Just like the rest of the city, the shopping district was covered in neon lights everywhere. Advertisements littered the streets, you couldn’t go anywhere or do anything without seeing at least a dozen of them for Heaven knows what. Nearly every building was a store or pop-up shop of some kind, and they were busy. Darkners of all kinds being coerced into buying something at every corner. He didn’t miss this kind of thing at all. He’d much rather sit back and let the money come to him, rather than grovel at people’s feet to get them to buy whatever you’re selling. Doing that had never worked out for him, anyway.

He sighed, making his way down the street. Hopefully, he only had to make one stop, but knowing his luck, that probably wouldn’t end up being the case. He didn’t know all the addisons around here personally, but he was sure most if not all of them knew who he was. Spamton G Spamton, the guy who managed to sell more than any of them. The guy who stole everyone’s customers, their profits. It wasn’t hard to assume that he wouldn’t be very popular around here. 

At least he knew where he was going, and could beeline there before anyone pointed him out. Rather easy to do, actually, with how many people were out and about today. Lots of crowd to blend into, always a good thing.

Ducking into an alleyway, a still brightly lit and busy alleyway, coincidentally, he made his way towards a narrow set of stairs on the side of one of the buildings. At the top was a rather small shop, but one that sold nearly anything. All used, of course, but anything nonetheless. He supposed it was kind of like a thrift store, if it had to be compared to something. 

Stepping inside, he was immediately greeted to the nearly suffocating scent of burning incense. The whole shop was kept generally quite dim, an interesting change of pace from the bright lights outside, but there was a reason for such a difference. If customers can’t see what they’re buying with full clarity, they’re more likely to buy something that may be old, dirty, or broken in some way. Not a trick used by most addisons, as most tended to sell new products, but this one was always just a little more slimy than most. Never truly wanting to go through the effort of pioneering their own brand. Instead, opting to sell the old and used products of other addisons, often renamed, and often at a very slightly discounted price. On some level, Spamton supposed he could respect that.

Suddenly, a hand reached out and grabbed at his shoulder. He stiffened. A grating laugh, “Whoa! Look who it is! I thought you went and skipped town ages ago! But…hmm. Gotta be back for a reason, right? What’s goin’ down in Spam-town these days? Still selling those cars of yours? Hah! Remember that time that the lot of us-”

He took a quick breath and turned to face the other. “Orange,” he greeted, forcing a smile. He intended for his tone to be more friendly than it was, but it was too late to worry about it now.

“Why so professional sounding? Orange you glad to see me?” They laughed, “Seriously though, that is my name. Glad you remembered! I guess it isn’t hard considering I’m literally orange, and, y’know, we all have the same name. Wouldn’t put it past you to forget about that though, Mr. I’m-different-and-have-a-special-name. Oh, wait! My bad, my bad, I meant specil name, right?” They smiled.

Spamton hoped it wasn’t too horribly obvious that he was glaring daggers into the addison’s soul as they spoke. He kept his own irritatingly fake smile on his face and spoke, “Right. Say, you wouldn’t know where a [guys like us] could get his hands on some [CRT] TV parts, would you?”

“Oh man, you still got that ad bracket thing going on when you talk?” They brought a hand to their chin in thought. “What did that ambyu-lance call it again? Ticks?” They snickered, “Of course you’d be the first Darkner to ever contract Lyme disease.”

Okay, maybe it was kind of obvious now that he wanted this guy a little bit dead, if it wasn’t before, but hopefully that wouldn’t cause any problems moving forward. “It’s kind of [[America’s Funniest Home Videos]] that you still haven’t answered my [QnA], y’know,” he deadpanned.

Orange’s smile fell a bit. “Wow, seems like it got a little bit worse too, huh? That sucks, man. And you’re sure they couldn’t do anything to like, fix it? You’d think they’d be able t-”

“ Orange,” Spamton grit out, “answer my [20 Questions], please. ”

“Oh, right,” they said, “ah…what was it you wanted again? Guess your weird little speech impediment distracted me for a minute there, haha.”

“CRT. TV. Parts.”

“Oh! Yeah, yeah, let me think.” Their eyes scanned over the expanse of their shop for a moment. They smirked, throwing a hand into the air, “I might know a little something about where you could find an old CRT. That is…” They held out a hand. “If you’d be willing to pay for the info.”

Spamton narrowed his eyes. “How much?”

“Ehh…let’s say…a nice even five hundred, yeah?”

“Five hundred?! Are you out of your [[Magic Gourd]]?” He pinched at the bridge of his nose. “We’re talking about information, I’m not even buying the thing from you!”

Orange held up both hands. “Look man, I gave a price. I know you have the money. If you want it badly enough you’ll cough it up.”

This no good son of a- “Yeah. Sure, whatever, you got me. I’ll pay.” He reached into a pocket, pulling out his wallet. Upon opening it, however…

Well. That…couldn’t be right. His eyebrow twitched.

“Somethin’ wrong, Spam? Change your mind?”

He closed his wallet and placed it back into his pocket. Giving a strained smile, he said, “I’ll be right back, yeah? [Don’t go anywhere!]”

“Uh…okay?” By the time they finished speaking, Spamton was already gone.

Outside, he grabbed a hold of the metal stair railing and began to shake it violently. “[$#%*]!” Under his breath, he muttered, “How do you just-! You don’t just come all this way and forget to bring cash!” All he had on hand currently was a bunch of points. Points that, while useful as the main currency over in TV World, had absolutely no use in Cyber City. They couldn’t even be traded for useful currency here, despite being able to trade dark dollars into points and vise-versa across the way. Luckily, he did still have the correct currency. He’d just have to visit an ATM or something to get any of it out. Not a trip-ending mistake, but an annoying one nonetheless.

He went down the stairs, and made his way back onto the main street, figuring there had to be an ATM somewhere around there. Luckily, he happened to figure correctly for once, and after getting the five hundred out, and a good bit more, just to be safe, began to head back to Orange’s shop.

Upon arriving, he walked in, five hundred dark dollars in hand, and paid the addison wordlessly.

“Huh,” they said, “I kinda just thought you left for good, honestly. I know you said you’d be back but, y’know. Thought that was your way of getting out of here without having to admit you were broke, hah.”

Spamton glared. “First of all, I’m not broke. I’m [never have I ever] broke. Second of all, you had better get to [yapping] or you’re gonna end up like [[Me, Myself, and I]] when you all decided to-”

“Okay! Okay, sheesh, calm down. I can’t even believe you’re still mad about all that! It really wasn’t even that serious. Mostly.” They huffed, crossing their arms, “Either way, about the TV. The long and short of the whole thing, I sold it. Yesterday, actually. Looks like you came a little too late!” They hummed. “Though, maybe you’re in luck. Considering I sold it to…an acquaintance, of ours.” 

Spamton rolled his eyes, “Who?” he asked. Though, ‘Which one,’ might have been more apt.

Orange held out a hand.

“You can’t seriously be asking for more [KROMER] right now.”

“Oh but I am, my good email man!”

He took out his wallet again, and placed another hundred in their hand.

“Woah, how generous! I was just gonna ask for another fifty.” They wrenched their hand backwards quickly. “No take-backsies though!”

Spamton simply stared at the display, clearly already checked out of the interaction.

Orange laughed nervously. “Well, anyway, sold it to Yellow, said they needed it for…I dunno, customer entertainment? You’d better hope they didn’t realize the thing is totally busted and thrown it out by now. You don’t care that it’s broken, right? You were just gonna tear it apart anyway?”

They didn’t receive an answer. They looked up, only to find that Spamton had left already.

“Huh.” They laughed, shaking their head, “What a little freak.”

Making it to Yellow’s place wasn’t all that hard. Finding them, also not that hard. 

Trying to talk to them while also trying to avoid being noticed by any other addisons? Pretty difficult, actually. 

Yellow ran a tea place pretty much smack dab in the middle of, well, everything. And unlike the rest of them, choosing to work solo, mostly, anyway, Yellow had employees. The place had a pretty sizeable outdoor area, but also a smaller indoor area as well. The place was kind of crawling with people who, in all honesty, probably wouldn’t mind tearing him limb from limb if they had the chance. The joys of success knew no bounds.

“Hey, you,” Spamton called out to a stray virovirokun, “c’mere real quick.” It slowly began floating over. It looked kinda…gross. “Okay, not…not that close actually.” It backed up a bit. “Yeah, okay good. Thanks. I need you to do me a [Favor? I hardly know her!], understand?

It nodded, “I guess I could try…what’s the fever? Er- I mean, what’s the favor?” It sounded like it was congested or something, but he guessed that wasn’t out of the ordinary for these guys. They were viruses after all.

“Theres this yellow [PLACE YOUR AD HERE]” he began, “I need to talk to them. But I’m not supposed to…” he considered his word choice, “people don’t really want me around here, y’know?”

“Oh yes,” the virovirokun stated, “I know what you mean. Those terrible ambyu-lances are always trying to kick me outta places, too.”

He supposed the comparison was kind of similar. “Right, [exact change?], so I can’t just go up and talk to them without people getting upset. That’s where you come in.”

“Oh boy.”

“Oh boy is right, my friend! But listen to me, [[Listen to Your Heart]], you’ve got this, yeah? I need you to go up to them and tell them someone wants to talk to them out back, okay?”

The virovirokun seemed to consider the information. “Okay,” it agreed, “I need to talk to a yellow guy?”

Spamton held his forehead. “Yeah, an ad[Ad space for sale! Only $4.99!],” he groaned, “an addison , okay?”

“Um…d’you think you could describe them a little better for me?”

Describe them-?! Had this thing gone it’s whole life without ever seeing an addison somehow? “Well…” he thought for a moment, “they’re… yellow…”

“I know that color!” the virovirokun exclaimed.

“Yeah, that's…that’s great. Uh.” He held a hand slightly above his own head. “They’re about…[yay!] tall? Spiky hair, goes more upwards than mine.”

“Oh…I see…”

Spamton stared at the virovirokun incredulously. “Do you? I could always just [Hide and Seek] someone else to do this instead, you know.”

“No!” it cried out, “Just because I’m sick doesn’t mean I can’t do it, I’m really smart.”

Something about this whole interaction made him doubt that, but he’d give it the benefit of the doubt for now. “Okay, so you know what to do, then?”

“Yup.”

“Alright, I’m gonna go wait out back then, [don’t fail me now!], you hear?” He made his way towards the back of the building, and waited. After about five minutes, he began to worry that the virovirokun forgot about the whole ordeal without ever actually talking to anyone. After ten, he felt pretty confident that that's exactly what had happened. As he turned to leave and started planning to ask someone else for help, however, he heard a voice.

“Spamton? I can’t say I was expecting to see your sorry face around here anytime soon. A virovirokun, by the way, really?”

He whipped back around. “What’s wrong with that?! It’s not like I had a lot of [options and settings] you know.”

Yellow gave him a strange look. “Right, well…what did you need exactly? I kind of have a job to get back to, so…if we could make this quick that’d be great.”

“Orange said they sold you a [Cathode Ray Tube] TV, I want it,” he said, getting straight to the point.

They hummed. “You want a TV? What for?”

Spamton sighed, “Not the TV, the [bits and bobs] on the inside,” he explained.

“The…parts? I didn’t take you for the kind of person to be interested in TV repair of all things, but you were always a little…” their eyes scanned him over, seeming slightly disgusted at the fact that he was present at all, “off-color. I guess.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a little [pale], you know,” he stated defensively. “At least I’m not [piss] yellow like you.”

Yellow frowned. It almost seemed like they wanted to say something in response, but chose not to. They then turned to leave. “Right, well, I’m gonna be getting back to work now, I don’t have the TV anymore. Found out it didn’t work, so I gave it to Blue. I’m guessing they thought they could fix it or something. But it’s really none of my business. I’ll see you around, Spamton.” And with that, they left.

Well, that was just great, wasn’t it?

Out of the addisons he knew, Blue was probably the one he least wanted to talk to. Ideally, he didn’t want to talk to any of them, but it seemed that fate had other plans. He just hoped they’d be a little merciful, today.

Blue and Pink lived in the same building, and shared the same store space, but each sold their own items. Blue sold clothing, while Pink sold jewelry. He figured if he was lucky, which, apparently, he often wasn’t, that he’d be able to talk Pink into getting Blue to give him the TV without ever having to confront them about it himself.

He opened the door to the combined shop, and found himself practically face to face with Pink immediately. Lucky enough so far. They looked at him, a confused expression on their face, before it turned into surprise. 

“Spamton!”

He waved a hand around. “Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard [enough, already!] of that today. Let’s cut to the [cheese], yeah?” Where’s that TV I’ve heard so much about?” He looked around the room, hoping to see it sitting somewhere.

Pink looked at him, annoyed, “No need to be rude. What do you even need a broken TV for, anyway?”

“That’s not important.”

“It’s important to me."

“Well it's none of your [beeswax], pink eye, now show me where it’s at and I can hurry up and get out of your hair.” He smiled sweetly.

“What’s the rush?” Pink asked, narrowing their eyes. “Don’t you want to say hi to Blue before you leave? It's their TV, after all.”

Spamton glared back at them. “I think you know [[Picture Perfect]]ly well that I don’t-”

“BLUEEE!! SPAMTON IS HERE AND WANTS TO TALK TO-”

He didn’t know what it was. Maybe it was the fact that he’d held off on being particularly rude for most of the day, held off on being violent. Maybe it was the fact that he was over all the running around, the nonsense, at this point. Or maybe it was just the fact that he simply wanted to go home already. Whatever it was, it made him shove Pink onto the floor the second they’d started yelling. In the process of doing so, he had ended up on top of them.

“Wh- Spamton! What the hell!” They attempted to push him off themself.

He didn’t know what to say. He really shouldn’t have done this. He should probably get up and just find the TV already. This wasn’t really accomplishing anything. He grabbed one of Pink’s wrists and pinned it to the floor. 

“Dude! What’s your damage?! Short people really are just fuckin’ angry all the time, aren’t they!”

Everything hurt. He was tired. He wanted to go home. He didn’t want to be here. The city would always be his home but it wasn’t today. It hadn’t been for a while. None of these people gave a damn about him. All they ever did was kick him to the curb. They stole from him. They said he was wrong, he was too different. It’s why he was never successful, before. They were just jealous, that’s all it ever was. They kicked his ass, they ruined his car. He balled up a fist. He saw red-

and then-

Blue.

Suddenly, he didn’t know how- clearly, he didn’t know much- but he ended up on his back, staring at the ceiling. He tasted blood. His nose felt kind of funny. Something loud dropped onto the floor next to his head. He closed his eyes, and breathed.

“Get the hell out of here, Spamton.”

He turned his head to the side, and cracked open an eye.

Oh hey. The TV. It looked perfect, too.

If he weren’t thinking straight, he could have maybe mistaken it for-

He couldn’t help it but to laugh.

“You two wanna help me carry that [b-e-a-utiful] thing t’ the car?”

Chapter Text

“Spamton, hold…fuck! hold still!”

Hands grabbed at the side of his head, jerking it from its turned position to one straight-ahead. He sat sideways in the driver's seat of the car, door open and legs hanging out, while Blue attempted to manhandle his face around. 

Pink piped up from behind him in the passenger seat, “Maybe he’s just chicken.”

“Well he needs to stop being a chicken and start being something else before I-” they growled, “come on!”

Spamton pulled his head up out of Blue’s grip again, pointing it upwards. “I don’t want your [nasty] hands touching me!” He directed his voice towards Pink, “And who the [$#%*] said you could get in the car!?”

Laughing, Pink kicked the seat back, crossing their legs on top of the dash. “What? I’m not allowed anymore? Since when?”

“You know [Since when?]! You- stop touching it!” 

Pink began rubbing their hands over the inside of the car, smirking. “What, like this?” They leaned over and traced a finger over the steering wheel in a mocking sensual manner. “Ooh look at me! I’m touching Spam’s precious expensive car, oooh!”

Before he could yell out anything in response, hands grabbed at his head again, forcefully straightening it back out. He moved his gaze to the side, avoiding eye contact with the addison in front of him. “Spamton, I swear to god, I need to touch you in order to fix your nose. Unless you want me to make it worse, you’ll sit still.”

He huffed out a breath of air from his mouth, rolling his eyes. His nose wouldn’t even be broken in the first place if it weren’t for them. The thing was crooked with a bend near the middle, and it hurt to breathe through. It had bled the entire walk back to the car. He was sure he could still taste the iron in the back of his throat. Tenna had better be grateful.

“And Pink,” they shot a look behind behind Spamton, “stop fucking antagonizing him, do you really want to start shit again?”

Pink leaned back, biting their tongue in thought for a moment. “I don't know, maybe,” they put a hand up to their chin, before exclaiming confidently, “I could take him.”

Spamton abruptly cackled, “You wish you could take me in a [oh he mean fight]! I’d kick your [@$$]!”

“You couldn’t the last time.”

He glared. “That wasn’t a [Fair Prices!] fight, it wasn’t just you and you know that. It’s different when there’s other people involved.”

“Yeah, well,” they crossed their arms behind their head, “different or not, it still counts, so…”

Something flicked at his forehead. “Eyes up here, Scammy, keep your head forward.” He bristled at the nickname, but obliged, forcing himself to look straight at the other. Something about being so up close and personal after so long made him feel a bit sick. Blue reached up and placed one hand on top of his head, steadying themself. Their fingers cut through his hair. If it weren’t already ruined, he would’ve gotten pissed at the action. “Try to hold still, alright?”

“I’m not a [[Bye Bye]] baby, Blue.”

He heard Pink snort in amusement from behind him. “Wow, really? Could’ve fooled me, you act just like one. Kinda look like one too actually-”

“Pink,” Blue snapped, “Shut up. As soon as I’m done with this I’m gonna need you to cut me some tape.” They turned their attention back to Spamton, narrowing their eyes. He could have swore he saw a smirk cross their face. They spoke gently, sickeningly sweet, familiar, “If you’re not a baby, then don’t cry, okay?”

They grabbed onto his nose with their free hand and suddenly wrenched it back into position.

Spamton jerked his head away immediately after, hissing at the pain. He resisted the urge to immediately clutch at the appendage. His hands gripped at the edge of his seat.

Blue reached down, grabbing his chin, and tugged his head back upwards. “Not yet, snowflake, still gotta tape it in place.” They went through the motions, doing just that. Eventually, the deed was done.

“That wasn’t so bad, now was it?” they said, deadpan, their voice laced with contempt.

It still stung.

“And he didn’t cry.” Pink added, “Impressive! But maybe a little disappointing.”

Taking a quick breath, Spamton turned back around to face the wheel, and went to slam his door shut. Blue grabbed the top of it, forcing it back open before it could click into place. He shrunk into his seat.

Staring straight into nothing, he spoke carefully, clutching at his nonexistent air of authority. “Pink, get out of my car.”

“Aw, why should I? In a rush?”

Yes, as a matter of fact. He held his breath. He briefly considered making an excuse, but thought better of it. For all he knew, anything could happen.

Blue spoke next, “I hope you didn’t think you were getting all this help for nothing, Spamton.”

He narrowed his eyes. A deal, then. “What do you want?” It was never a good idea to start up a deal by asking the opposing party what they wanted out of it first, but he didn’t think he had too much of value that he could offer upfront.

“Just a thank you would be nice.”

A thank you? The thought of thanking them– thanking any of them– put a disgusting pit in his stomach. They knew as much, he was sure, but just a thank you was so little. It couldn’t be all of it. There had to be more.

“What else?”

He heard the seat next to him click back into an upright position. Pink shifted around a bit, but he didn’t dare look over to see what they were doing. Didn’t dare move.

Blue leaned on the door. “Nothing else, just a thank you. Just a regular old ‘Thanks for the help, Blue!’ would be fine. Really, Spamton, no tricks.” They held out a hand, adding on, “That’s your thing, not mine.”

That wasn’t true. He knew that wasn’t true. They knew that he knew that wasn’t true. There was more going on with this. It couldn’t be that simple. It couldn’t.

He reached out and shook their hand, sneering. Gritting out each word in an overly sweet tone, performing, he said his line, “Thanks. For the help. Blue.” He gave a closed-eye smile.

The door opposite of him opened, and Pink exited the car. Blue’s face formed a smile to mirror his own. “Thanks, Spam,” they whispered, placing a hand to his shoulder. It was cold. “I appreciate it.” They removed their hand and backed up a bit. “Don’t be a stranger,” they added, finally shutting the door.

…

Once he was sure the both of them had left, Spamton dropped his head onto the steering wheel– making sure not to hit his nose– and let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. He fucked up. He knew he fucked up. He absolutely just got fucked. They had to have been recording that to re-use out of context later, or something. 

But even still…

He lifted his head and peered into the backseat.

He had the TV.

Maybe there really was an Angel looking out for him.

Back at the studio, the air felt wrong, somehow. Nothing drastic seemed to be out of the ordinary at a first glance. Everyone was going about their jobs as usual, bustling around, playing reruns, chatting amongst themselves. It was like any other day. Well, any other day in which Tenna wasn’t present for whatever reason, at least.

Examining things closer, though, the illusion of normalcy began to fall apart. The lights across the whole place were much more dim, the animated walls all stood still, and everyone seemed to have strange looks on their faces, like they knew something was weird. Wrong, yet unsure of what. Nobody spoke about it.

It was almost as though the state of the studio itself was tied to Tenna’s wellbeing. Or his… aliveness, if anything. Spamton briefly wondered what would happen if everything shut down completely. 

That wouldn’t happen.

“You,” he called to the zapper manning the front doors, “come [Help me!] get this thing out of my car, [TV] ’s orders. And don’t go yappin’ about it to anyone either, you hear?”

The zapper hopped on over, nodding their head. “‘Course, I ain’t even got, uh, lips to yap with, boss. So no problems there, haha.”

Spamton rolled his eyes. This guy in particular always got on his nerves but beggars couldn’t be choosers. “[DEAD] serious, top secret business, keep it on the [download].”

If they looked a bit nervous now, they didn’t mention it. “Ah…right, ‘course boss, I understand. Won’t say a peep.”

He let the zapper place the TV in front of the bedroom, but no further. He was sure he could push the thing inside by himself, and if not, Ramb definitely could.

After they’d been dismissed and he made sure nobody else was around, Spamton knocked on the door. Silence greeted him.

“Ramb? You in there? It’s uh…Spamton. Got the stuff.” He patted the top of the TV on the floor a few times for emphasis.

The door cracked open, and Ramb peered around the corner. He seemed to slump a bit in relief at the sight of the TV. Opening the door the rest of the way, the both of them dragged it into the room

Upon entering, Spamton noticed a few things. Firstly, Tenna was still lying face-down on the floor, head opened up in the same spot he’d been in when he’d left for the city, and secondly, the comforter from the bed was now draped over the man. The edges of it were tucked neatly underneath him.

“He was jus’...a bit cold, ‘s’all,” Ramb supplied. He understood.

He took a seat in front of Tenna’s head, leaving enough room for Ramb to sit as well once she finished disassembling the other TV. As she did so, he gazed down at the body next to him. 

…

It was weird.

When he first showed up in TV World and met Tenna, he never expected to get so…attached to the guy. He cringed a bit at the internal self admission, but it was true. At first, he really was just trying to get ahead. To get bigger. Use him and the show to get more eyes on his advertisements, become more well-known, make more money. All with the promise of eventually teaching the guy how to escape his own impending irrelevancy, like he had his, and it worked, somehow. Tenna believed him. He believed that he had all the answers, that his own success wasn’t just a fluke, that he got to where he was all on his own.

It was really a miracle, honestly.

…

He reached over and grabbed the ball at the end of one of his antennas, holding it in his hand.

…

After a while, after they’d worked together for long enough, they decided to get a room at the studio together. It was just more convenient than either of them making the trek to and from work every day. That was the excuse, anyway. An excuse because, well, the trips didn’t really matter, honestly. Spamton liked driving, and Tenna never had an issue making the trips for himself before he’d arrived. They just…liked the company.

He liked the company.

It was different, having a business partner. Everything in the city was always so much more…competetive. You could pretty much guarantee nobody would be in your corner. Not even the people you considered friends, at the end of the day. Tenna was different. They worked for each other, not against each other. They brought each other higher, they highlighted the other’s strengths and complimented their weaknesses, they were partners. Even if the initial intentions were selfish in nature, Spamton found himself feeling…actually happy. For once. Though, maybe that was selfish too.

Maybe.

…

His thoughts were interrupted for a brief moment by Ramb making his way over with the tube of the other TV. He sat it down, and the two of them flipped Tenna onto his side so that the plug could begin working on removing and replacing his own.

While she worked, Spamton watched.

“I like the way you smile.”

What? He stopped, confused.

A laugh. “Hah! Don’t look so shocked! I’m serious, you know? It brightens up the whole room when you walk in.”

“Cathode, you can’t be saying things like that, it’s [strange and unusual], knock it off.”

Tenna hummed, crossing his arms. “I don’t know…” he began, “I don’t really think it’s all that weird when it’s true, is it?”

He pondered the question.

“It’s weird,” he stated.

Spamton blinked as Ramb removed the screen from Tenna’s casing. It was different from seeing the same be done to the other TV. The other TV wasn’t alive, as far as he knew. Tenna was supposed to be. It didn’t feel right seeing such a big part of him be removed. He looked away.

Ramb seemed to sense his uneasiness. “If you need a moment to step out, luv, feel free,” he said.

“I…” he paused, “No. It’s [just peachy], I’m fine.”

“If you say so, but don’t be afraid to change your mind.”

He nodded as though the other was able see it while working.

…

After a moment, he spoke up again. “Ramb?”

She gave a small hum in response.

He wasn’t quite sure how to word the question he had in mind. “Do you…is…” he trailed off. 

“Take your time.”

He tried again. “When he [Rise and shine!]’s up, is he…gonna be the same?”

Ramb quirked an eyebrow. “I’m not quite sure what you mean, luv.”

He motioned towards the man’s tube, discarded nearby. Like garbage. “That’s his brain, so wouldn’t [[Swap Magic]]ing it out [$#%*] with his…” he squinted, trying to find the correct word, he didn’t find it, but settled with, “his personality?” 

“Oh! No, no, you don’t have to be worried ‘bout all that, promise,” she said, explaining further, “It’s his brain in the sense that…if it’s gone, so’s he, yeah? But it’s just his display, nothin’ important going on in there, thoughts-wise, you can trust me on that.”

He breathed out a small sigh at the reassurance, returning his gaze to the man’s head. 

He wasn’t sure what he would do if he was actually gone, if he woke up a different person. He didn’t want to think about it.

…

Ramb broke the silence again only a short moment later. “I don’t mean to be…well, nosy, but what exactly happened to your…?” he motioned to his own face, where his nose would be if he had one. “If you don’t mind me askin’, of course.”

Spamton frowned a bit. He didn’t exactly feel like recounting the story. “I mind, Ramb.”

“Right then, my bad.”

It felt like many years had passed by the time Ramb had finally finished the last bit of work necessary to get Tenna up and running again. In reality, it couldn’t have been more than an hour, or two, tops.

The bartender slash surprise mechanic stood, dusting himself off. “He should be alright now, luv,” he stated, “Might take him a minute on his own, but you should be able to turn him on yourself, too.”

Spamton looked up at him, confused. “Don’t you want to do that? Or…shouldn’t you?”

He shook his head and held up a hand. “It ain’t my place. Tenna isn’t…well, let's just say I don’t think he’d be too fond of waking up seein’ my ugly mug staring back at him first thing, yeah?”

He wasn’t really sure he quite understood how the weird relations between the two of them worked just yet. Ramb seemed to care about the guy a lot. She also seemed to hold a higher status in the studio than he originally assumed, but Tenna seemed to…not be too fond of her, for some reason. It didn’t make a lot of sense. He gave a nod regardless.

“Thanks, luv,” she said, heading for the door. “That’s for everything too, you hear? Tell him to make sure to check in when he’s able, if you would?”

“I…[YES],” he said, “I’ll let him know. Thanks.”

With a gentle smile and a quick wave, Ramb disappeared out the door. It shut itself closed behind her. 

Spamton was left alone, on the floor, with Tenna’s still unmoving body. 

He maneuvered himself around to sit in front of the man’s screen. After a bit, he decided to lay down on his side, parallel next to him, while he stared into the blackness.

If he were being honest, he was almost afraid to reach out and touch him. 

Almost.

He opened up a hand, and held it out towards the screen in front of him. Slowly, he inched closer.

And closer.

And-

Warm.

He felt like he couldn’t breathe.

With a strange noise, he slowly felt a static sensation beginning to tickle at his palm.

His fur.

Suddenly, everything was glowing white.

He had to move slightly backwards to avoid getting poked in the eye by the man’s nose appearing on his face. He watched, wide-eyed, in a sort of disbelief.

“ Spamton…!” the screen exclaimed, giving a downright goofy smile. “Good morning!”

Spamton felt his heart lurch, and he let out an ugly sob against his will.

Tenna gasped, before moving closer, embracing him in his arms. “Spam…come on, don’t cry! It’s okay, I promise, what’s wrong?” He looked around the room, noticing for the first time that they were on the floor, and not the bed. That was…strange. He supposed it didn’t matter, for the time being. “Did you have a nightmare?”

He felt the smaller man cling to the front of his nightshirt as he fell apart. He wasn’t quite sure what to say. He didn’t even really understand what was happening. He looked down. Was that…medical tape? 

Before he could continue that train of thought, he heard what sounded like a laugh escape Spamton in between cries. He was so confused. “Spam, I…really, what are you-”

“[I like the way you smile], Tenna.”

…

He wasn’t sure exactly why, but he found himself tearing up a bit at the statement. “Spamton, you…I don’t understand, are you okay?” he asked again. The whole situation was so strange.

The man in his arms pressed his forehead into his chest. “It’s okay now,” he stated. “I’m tired.”

Tired? Wasn’t it morning?

“Don’t make me say stupid [$#%*] like that ever again, cathode.”

He faltered. “Um, o-okay, I won’t?”

He heard a quiet inhale, followed by a sigh.

“I’m happy you’re alive.”

What.

“What?”

A small hand was shoved in his face. “I didn’t [speak no evil] anything, [CRT], stop talking and let me get my [[Beauty]] [[Sleeping]], yeah?”

What was happening?? “On the floor?”

“[YES] on the floor, does it look like we’re on the [ceiling]?”

“Well… no, but-”

“Exactly, so don’t [Asks] stupid questions, good night, [Boob Tube].”

“Good…night?”

He held his arms a bit tighter. His mind was racing, to be sure, but even still…

It was nice?

“I’m…glad you’re alive, too?”

He received no answer, but really, he didn’t need one.