Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The pain in Tenna's head slowly lessened. Everything had felt like it was spinning and buzzing for the past few hours, and Tenna couldn’t think a single coherent thought until now. His body felt cold. Not the normal winter type of cold, but a type of cold that didn't feel like it would ever go away.

It seemed to take hours, but everything slowly began to numb as the visual snow in his vision cleared up. The first things he saw were recognizable couches and a coffee table. Soft sunlight from a winter morning shone through the windows. Tenna was at home, on the living room floor. He couldn’t remember how he got there, it must have been a wild night. Maybe after the show he went out to drink with the crew, had a few too many, and passed out on the floor when he got home? That would make sense, but Tenna could barely remember a thing about the prior day. He remembered waking up, driving to the studio, starting up the broadcast, and then his memories abruptly fogged up.

Tenna tried to stand, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t even turn his head to the side to look around the room. He couldn’t move at all. Something was terribly wrong. What happened yesterday for him to be feeling like this? Tenna wracked his brain for anything else he could remember. Oh, yesterday was the Christmas special, wasn’t it? Surely he should remember the fun segments from that? 

Yes, the whole show kicked off with a fun little skit by Ellen and Lawrence, then there was the segment where Tenna talked about the best cartoons to watch during the holidays, then there was the weather, then the crew had a white elephant gift exchange. At that point, they were still waiting for that special guest to show up. They should have been there already. Tenna moved some segments around to be earlier in the show to stall for time, but eventually the guest segment came and there was no guest. And then… then…? Then it was blank. And now he was home.

All of a sudden, Tenna could hear two voices coming from outside the house. He recognized them instantly, his favorite newscasters! As they came closer, he could make out their words.

“...hidden under the rug or in the mailbox. Maybe in a bush? There can’t be that many places to hide a spare key.” He heard Lawrence’s voice outside. They were looking for the spare key to his house? Why couldn’t they just knock? Well, Tenna wouldn’t be able to get up and answer the door anyways, he couldn’t move, but it was still odd. He made an attempt to yell out to them, to try and tell them where the spare key was hidden, but it was as if his voice was on mute. Any noise he tried to make fizzled out before it could leave his mouth.

“Oh, I found it, moonbeam!” It was Ellen’s voice this time. The lock was twisted with a click, and the door opened. The two weatherpeople stepped inside the house, turned on the lights, and looked around seemingly in awe. Ellen spoke up once more. “Oh my, it’s just the same as I remember it. I mean, I guess it hasn’t been that long. Just.. it feels empty without him.”

What are you talking about? I’m right here! What’s that supposed to even mean? The weather duo ignored him, acting like he wasn’t even there. He was right in the middle of the room, for goodness sake! Actually, now that Tenna thought about it, he wasn’t on the floor at all. Why was he on top of the TV table? Right where the TV usually was? It was a little ironic. Tenna took the place of the room’s centerpiece, the thing that’s meant to draw eyes to it more than anything else in the room, and he was being ignored.

“I don’t even know where to begin. There’s so much stuff to go through. I just can’t believe Ant’s really gone. It feels like he should just be standing right there, arms up, wide grin, cracking a dumb joke. I miss that.” Lawrence choked up at the end like he was actually about to cry. Ellen walked over and comforted him.

“It was a freak accident. Nobody was ready for it, nobody expected that. I-” Ellen sniffled once before letting her stifled tears escape her in a downpour. “Oh, my sunny moon! I can’t keep my composure either. I miss him!” The two of them took a moment to cry loudly into each other's arms.

I’m not gone. Just look at me. I’m right here. It’s not like I’m dead, right? I’m not. Why would I be dead? I’m too young to be dead! I didn’t even get to fall in love yet. I didn’t get to have a family yet. It’s too early. Why would I have died? What happened? Why would I still be here? In place of my TV no less?

All of Tenna’s questions went unanswered. Nobody could hear his inaudible cries for help. Lawrence and Ellen were already wiping each other's tears and putting his things into boxes, moving everything he owned from where it was supposed to be. He couldn’t stop them. He couldn’t do anything but watch as everything he built up over the course of his life was torn down, placed into little cardboard boxes, and carried out the door. 

Days went by in a flash. Then weeks. More familiar faces came and went, taking more and more of his belongings with them. Tenna’s friends, his family, and his coworkers all showed up at some point. There was nothing he could do to get their attention. Tenna tried time and time again to call out to them, to reach out a hand to someone, but nobody would pay him any mind. Please, could someone just turn on the TV? Just look at me. Everyone I’ve ever been close to is showing up, but I’ve never felt more alone. But nobody wanted to watch TV. Nobody even looked Tenna’s way. People slowly stopped coming over and carrying stuff out. 

One day, someone finally came and reluctantly took out the television. He heard the sound of a plug being removed from an outlet, and then his point of view lifted a little more off of the ground. Tenna was ecstatic. It was the first time someone even looked his way, let alone interacted with him since he ended up in the CRT. They dropped him off somewhere he recognized well. His parent’s house. The house he grew up in. There’s no way they won’t watch me. Once they turn on the TV, I’ll find some way to call out to them. Everything will be alright.

They never turned him on. Not even once during the entire time he was at the house. He was kept in a corner for a few months before being moved to the garage. Then he was forgotten. He didn’t know how long he sat in that garage. He was starting to lose track of time. It might have been months. Maybe a year.

One day, someone came and took Tenna once again. He heard passing conversations about moving away and getting rid of junk that didn’t work. Tenna was heartbroken. He took one last look at his parents house as he was carried out the door, farther and farther from familiarity. He was unceremoniously placed in the bed of a truck. Several minutes later, he heard it start up and felt the rumbling as it drove him off to a place where he might never be watched again. All the while he screamed and tried to bang on whatever walls were trapping him, but every sound fizzled out in his throat and every motion only existed in his head.

The drive felt like forever, though in reality the trip probably wasn't even half an hour long. The truck came to a halt, and the TV was once again picked up and carried, this time to what he decided was his grave. He was tossed on a pile of trash. And then he was completely alone. Unable to call for help, to say or do anything. Left alone with nothing but his own thoughts to soothe him. 

This is it, then. I'm dead for good, doomed to an afterlife of being trash and sitting around in a landfill for eternity. There's no hope of anyone watching me here. I didn’t have enough time. I barely even got to live! And TV Time was just starting to gain traction. I wonder if they've even kept it up without me to host and fund it? Oh god, I hope they do keep it up. I hope I've at least made some impact, left something behind to be remembered by. What if nobody remembers me? What if I didn't leave a big enough impact? What if I'm completely forgotten? 

I can’t think about all of that. TV Time made people smile, it brightened peoples days. I’ve left at least some impact. I'm sure someone will find me eventually. Someone has to show up and look at me. Someone will come watch me. I won't even have to wait that long, I'm sure! I'll be alright. I'm not dead. I'm not a lost cause. I'm not.

Chapter Text

Tenna woke up to the sound of someone rummaging through garbage nearby. It wasn’t the first time someone had come dumpster diving near him, but it was a rare sight. His grainy vision cleared up slowly and he took in the same old surroundings he'd been stuck in for god knows how many years. Tenna stopped keeping track of how much time had passed ages ago. 

In the corner of his vision, he spotted a short man rifling through a pile of old electronics. Anything that looked somewhat salvageable was placed into his garbage bag, everything else was tossed aside. The man made his way from trash pile to trash pile until FINALLY he set his eyes on Tenna.

“Woah, old TV! Looks pretty intact, little crack on the screen and a few scuff marks, but I bet this'll still sell for a [pretty penny]!” Tenna's TV wasn’t old, it was brand new when he bought it. The best money could buy! Sure, maybe he'd been dead for a few years and he didn't know how many new TVs came out since then, but surely his still held up. Tenna was flattered by the attention, nonetheless. This was the first time another human even acknowledged him since he was dumped here. 

The man swept some trash and grime off of the TV before picking Tenna up and carrying him away from his resting place. Tenna missed having other people around. The closest things he had for the past however many years were re-runs of his entire life's worth of memories playing through his head, but re-runs get stale after a while, especially if you've watched them each a hundred times over. But now, he wouldn’t have to rely on those re-runs to keep him entertained. This was a whole new season of memories just waiting to be put into production!

Tenna was placed on the floor of a severely underdecorated apartment. No TV table, that's fine. I'll take what I can get after being trash for so long. The man winced after setting down the TV. “Whew! I'm gonna have [moderate to severe back pain] for weeks after that haul! It'll all be worth it, though, once somebody buys you. Just gotta make sure you work first, [Cathode].” Tenna felt a jolt of electricity stream through him as the CRT was plugged into the wall. This was the most alive he'd felt since… well, since he was alive. And he only had this short, sweaty, smelly man to thank for it.

The man came back around to the front of the TV and searched for the power button, pressing it as soon as he found it. The screen fizzled to life. “Perfect! Let's see what you've got [broadcasting live]!” Finally! My first viewer in years! Ohhh, it feels so good to be watched again! I've got a special all night marathon planned just for you!

“Stan? Stan, are you home? Stan?” There was a loud knocking on the door. Stan snapped out of the trance he didn’t even realize he was in and looked around his room to get his bearings. He blinked a few times and rubbed his eyes before standing up to answer the door.

“Spence? What are you doing here [in the middle of the night]? Everything alright?” Stan stretched and yawned. He felt exhausted.

Spencer's eyes widened. “Middle of the night? Stan, it's 2 pm. I haven't heard from you all day. You weren’t answering any calls or texts so I thought I’d check in on you. Sorry for the sudden visit, I just wanted to make sure you were alright. Are you alright?” 

2 pm? I started watching TV around 9 pm, and that was just a couple hours ago, wasn't it? It doesn’t feel like that much time has passed. Did I fall asleep? I definitely don't feel well rested. I feel drained if anything. My eyes hurt as if I've been watching TV all day, and by the sound of it, I have been. How did I just lose track of time like that? What was I even watching? Stan turned back to look at the CRT again. The screen was just displaying static. Stan couldn't even remember watching any shows. Was I just watching static on a screen all day? Did I lose an entire day watching nothing?

“Uh, Stan?”

“Sorry, sorry. I guess I just lost track of time. I'm [feeling like a million dollars]. I don't think I slept at all last night, though. I might be coming down with something.”

“Oh, do you need me to pick you up something? Some medicine or some food?” Spencer offered, their voice laced with concern.

“No, thanks. I've got [2 for 1 TV dinner special] and [over the counter cold medicine]. I'll be fine. Thanks for checking in on me, though. I appreciate it.” Stan rubbed his eyes once more. He was struggling to keep them open at this point.

“No problem, just make sure you eat something, drink plenty of water, and get some sleep, alright? If you need anything at all, just call.” Stan nodded in response. They said their goodbyes and Stan closed the door again.

The CRT was still full of static. Did it ever show a clear image in the first place? Stan couldn't remember. He was too tired. He could eat and drink later, for now, he just needed to lay down and close his eyes for a while. Stan took off his sweat stained shirt and made his way over to his bean bag placed right in front of the TV and collapsed onto it, passing out almost immediately.

“...We’re rolling in 3, 2, 1!”

“Welcome back to TV Time, everyone! Yes, I know we've been on hiatus for waaaaaay too long, but we’ve got a comeback special that is guaranteed to blow your socks off, so don’t touch that dial and make sure to hold onto your socks! Before we start, though, everyone please welcome tonight’s special guest! Stan, right? Go on, introduce yourself to our live studio audience!” Stan stood there, dumbfounded. He was just in his cramped apartment, wasn’t he? Why was he now on this garish TV show set? And he was wearing an entire tailored suit now rather than shorts and a binder. The towering TV host taking center stage had a CRT for a head, just like the one Stan found at the dump and brought home. When Stan looked around, it was as if everything had a grainy afterimage following behind it. The corners of his vision were overtaken by visual snow, making it feel like he was looking at everything through a tunnel. All of it put together made him extremely nauseous.

“Well, Stan? Don’t keep the audience waiting!” The television host urged. There was no audience. Where the stage ended, a dark void began. Looking too far in any direction made Stan’s head spin.

“Whuh?” Stan took a moment to take it all in and register what he’d even been asked to do. “I’m St- Stan G. Stanton, but-”

“Everyone give it up for Mr. Stan G. Stanton!” The host interrupted and lifted his arms into the air. Applause rang out around the room, echoing off of the walls. There was no source for the clapping to originate from, no audience or anything. It sounded more like it was coming from inside of Stan’s own head, adding onto the headache he was getting from the overwhelming bright lights of the stage and the disorienting nature of this place.

“I.. Uh.. What is [all of this for only $9.99]? I don’t-”

“You’re only on the greatest television show of the century! Mr. Ant Tenna’s TV TIME!!!” The host, whose name was apparently Mr. Ant Tenna, struck a pose with one hand pointed to the sky, once again interrupting Stan. A wave of nausea came over Stan when the room suddenly warped. He was now sitting down in a chair that didn’t exist a few seconds ago, and Tenna was leaning on a table that just popped into existence. “So! How about we start off by having you answer a few questions about yourself? I’d like to get to know you better, since you did save me from that dump after all!”

“Save you from the dump? Are you the [Boob tube] I found in the [Trash zone]?”

“Let’s not make this about me, you’re the special guest after all!” Tenna said, completely avoiding the question. “Instead, let's learn a little about you! Mike, the board, please!” Tenna snapped his fingers in an exaggerated gesture and a giant screen fell from the ceiling behind them. “First question: what do you do every day? D’you have a job?” The question appeared on the screen after he finished asking it.

“I- uh- I usually look around for old abandoned stuff in the trash and resell it all for a little [moolah]. I used to work as a [number 1 rated salesman] for this one mall, but that [in conclusion] terribly.”

“Wonderful! A salesman! Let’s hope he doesn’t try to sell me anything, because it looks like I’m flat broke!” A laugh track played in Stan’s head, just adding to his headache. “Alright, next question: what do you like to watch on TV? Movies? Game shows? Talk shows? Cartoons? News? Shopping networks? Reality TV? Sitcoms? Romcoms? I’ve got it all, Stanny, you just say the word and I’ll bring you the best shows I can find.”

“I don’t actually watch TV. I haven’t owned a TV for a few years now, and there’s never [limited time offer] to watch anyways. I guess I enjoyed some [saturday morning cartoons] back when I was a [little sponge].” Stan shrugged.

“Oh. Well, we can change that! Now you’ve got your very own brand new, cutting edge CRT that can do way more than just any old TV! I can help you in any way you need me to! I can be more useful than anything you’ve ever owned! I’ve got life advice, I’ve got entertainment. I’ve got information! Did you know that you can learn ANYTHING on TV? Well, you can! Haha! All you’ve got to do is watch me! As simple as that!” Tenna leaned closer to Stan with every sentence he spoke, a very strained smile plastered on his screen. Now that he was so close, Stan could make out a faint crack running from one corner of the screen to the other. Tenna took a moment, took a deep breath, and leaned back once more.

“Alright, final question: have you heard of the show ‘TV Time’ before? Surely you’ve heard of it. Is it, er, still running? Did they… Find a new host? Did they move on without me? Did they still have the funding to keep going after I…?” Tenna trailed off. It didn’t seem like he was going to finish that sentence.

“I don’t know. I’ve never heard of a show called ‘TV Time’ until [buy now].”

“You’ve never heard of it? Really?”

“I mean, yeah. I said I don’t really [real gold watch] TV. When did the show air?”

“The first episode premiered in early ‘95. It was an unforgettable day for everyone on set. We all had a big celebration afterwards, lots of dancing and drinks. The last episode I was there for was December, 1997. The Christmas special. It- uhm. It’s not important.” Tenna stared off into the distance, lost in thought.

Stan took a second to do the math in his head. “Well, that’s like 20 years ago. Might’ve gotten [closed for repairs], er, cancelled somewhere along the way. I can google it later if you’d like-”

“20 YEARS?!” Tenna grasped the sides of his boxy head. His screen was completely black, with only his mouth showing. “It’s been two whole DECADES? You’re joking, Stan. You’re messing with me, aren’t you? You think this is funny. What year is it, really?”

“It’s 2017.” Stan lifted his eyebrow, confused by the outburst.

“That can’t be true. Haha! That would mean I’m in my late 40’s! That’s not possible! I can’t be closer to 50 years old than 20, I can’t have been gone almost as long as I lived in the first place, I can’t…” Tenna trailed off, his voice caught in his throat. His dark screen appeared to be… dripping? “Mike, can we cut to commercials?”

Everything cut to black, and Stan was suddenly back on his bean bag. He sat up rapidly, gasping for air as if he’d been holding his breath. He quickly crawled over and shut off the static-filled TV. His splitting headache still persisted outside of the dream, but everything in his vision was a lot more stable. It was a dream, right? Stan stood up, bracing himself on the top of the TV. He was hit with a wave of nausea as he stood that cleared up after a minute. Stan dug his phone out of his pocket to check the time. 5 pm. He still had a few hours left to make something out of the day. He had to get at least a little bit of work done, he couldn’t just waste an entire day having nightmares about his messed up CRT.

Stan grabbed a water bottle and a bag of chips and got to work on his laptop. He dug through all the junk he gathered the previous day, even though it still felt like that was just a few hours ago. He put up listings for every piece of garbage, neglecting to mention the state that some of the products were in.

Stan paused when he got to the TV. There was something different about it. Maybe something special? He couldn’t put it on sale yet, not until he figured out what was going on with that CRT. He hadn’t been able to actually sit down and watch TV in so long anyways, might as well enjoy it while it’s there.

He finished up with the listings and laid back down on the bean bag, exhausted and feeling sick. Stan hesitated for a moment before turning the TV on once again. Some background noise might be nice. He messed around with a few dials and the antennas, trying to make a clear picture from all the static. Finally, the image cleared enough for Stan to make out an old cartoon he recognized from when he was a kid. It took several minutes, but Stan slowly drifted off to sleep, the antics of the cartoon fading into the background.

Chapter Text

Stan’s eyes shot open. He was back on the stage. The static oddities in his vision were back, causing his headache to ramp up again. Tenna was standing center stage. He perked up as soon as Stan looked his way, as if he’d been waiting for him.

“Welcome back, Stanny! Wasn’t that a nice intermission?”

“Wh- No? I barely had any [running out of time] to [get these deals]- to do anything today. After I [you lose], what, like 12 hours? Just watching TV? I didn’t have any time to do anything else.”

Tenna smiled awkwardly and straightened his tie. “Well, it was my big debut, I had to make it count!”

“That was you, then? You made me basically [loose change] my entire day watching nothing on the TV? Watching you?”

Tenna pursed his lips, trying to hide whatever emotion he was feeling. Stan noticed some movement behind Tenna. There was a plug, wagging back and forth like a tail. “I’ve just missed having someone to watch me. That’s understandable, right? And I’d really like it if you’d watch a little more, that’s not too much trouble, is it? Besides, a little TV time each day would be great for you! TV is the best way to unwind after a stressful day, and based on what little I know about you, I don’t think it would be a very big stretch to say you need a little stress relief."  

Stan couldn’t argue with that. He’d been extremely stressed and tired lately, as well as desperate for something to sell for more than a few bucks. He thought the CRT would be a turning point for him. Plenty of people were still into old TVs, surely someone would bite. But now he was reluctant to put up the listing, because if this was anything more than a dream, then this CRT was alive in some capacity. If he didn’t disclaim that the TV was alive, he’d probably get severely underpaid. But if he did claim that the TV was alive and upped the price accordingly, nobody would believe him.

“What even are you, anyways? Some sort of sentient TV?”

“I'm Mr. Ant Tenna!”

“Not what I [BEEP] [have a question? Just ask]!” Stan gasped as a garbled noise came out of him instead of the intended swear word. “Did you just censor me?”

Tenna held a hand in front of his mouth, pretending to be shocked. “TV Time is a family friendly show, we can’t have you using that kind of language on air! What would they all think?” Tenna gestured off of the stage at the pitch black, dizzying void.

“There isn’t even a [live studio audience]!” The edge of Tenna’s smile quivered, like he was trying and nearly failing to keep his composure. “What do you [want exclusive deals] from me, anyways? Answer the [question of the day].”

Tenna lowered his head, his antennas drooping. It may have been a trick of the light, but he appeared to shrink a few inches. “I just want to be watched. That's all I want, Stan. I haven't had a viewer in so long. I haven't had anyone to talk to. So please, can't you just play along? I can help you, entertain you, be someone to rely on. Please don't throw me in the dump again. Please. I'll do anything.” Tenna was definitely shrinking now. He was about Stan's height at this point and still getting smaller.

Stan let out the exhale he'd been holding in. “I'm not gonna throw you out, Tenna.”

“Promise. Promise me you won't abandon me or leave me in the garbage.”

Stan hesitated. He'd been planning to sell the TV from the beginning. He desperately needed the money. But he definitely wasn’t going to throw it away. He was either keeping it or selling it. He could at the very least let this TV know he wasn’t going to the dump. “I promise. You aren’t going back to that [trash area closed for repairs], or any dump for that matter.”

After a short pause, Tenna's height shot back up until he was twice as tall as Stan, his arms reaching up towards the sky. Confetti rained from the ceiling. The audience cheered directly into Stan's eardrums. “Wonderful! Let's celebrate with an all night movie marathon!” 

Before Stan could protest, Tenna snapped his fingers and the two of them were suddenly in a living room. They were sitting on one of two couches in the room. There was a coffee table, and a CRT sitting on a TV table that looked to be the exact same one Stan brought home from the dump, the same one that also sat on Tenna's shoulders in lieu of a head. Stan looked around the room. There were cardboard boxes strewn about. Various shelves and cabinets decorated the perimeter of the room, but no belongings were placed on them. There were a few doorways, but beyond them everything appeared much more distorted and blurry, like a memory struggling to be remembered.

Stan refocused his attention to Tenna, who was sitting next to him on the couch. “What do you want to watch first, then, Stanny?” Tenna stared at him expectantly, his tail thwacking repeatedly against the back of the couch.

“I don’t know, I thought you could pick something out [of stock] yourself?”

“Of course! I've got hundreds of movie recommendations! Let's see…” Tenna began listing off various movies, some of which Stan had watched before, while others Stan had never heard of. All of them were pretty old picks, from the 90s or earlier. At one point, Tenna stopped listing movies and started gushing about one in particular he remembered fondly and Stan just ended up settling on watching that one.

The movie was pretty good. It was definitely a little dated with some of the humor in it, but that was bound to happen with most older movies. “That was actually [better price than leading brands] than I expected.”

“Right? Next we should watch all the sequels!”

“Yeah, maybe next time. I'd like to get back [home sweet home] and rest a bit.”

“But you are home! And you are resting! I said this would be an all night marathon. You can't bail after the first movie, Stan!”

“I don't feel like I'm resting. I feel [exhausted? Try this one weird trick], actually.”

Tenna rubbed the relative area where his chin would be. “You know what I think? I think you're too stressed. I think if you just forget about whatever you keep worrying about, you'll rest a lot better. Just watch a few more movies with me. Relax. Unwind a bit. I promise, you'll be feeling better in no time. Will you please just stay?”

“Tenna, no, I'm [leaving so soon]. I already said I'm going to go. I need to actually sleep.” Stan looked around for some kind of exit. “How do I [get out of my head] of this place, anyways?”

Tenna scooted closer on the couch. His screen was dark. “You can't leave yet. I don't want to be alone again.”

“Tenna, I feel [sick to my stomach] and my head is spinning. The longer I stay here, the [buy more] nauseous I feel. Please, just let me go.”

“Sick?” Tenna's expression fell. He slowly started shrinking. “Oh. Oh, no, no, that's.. that's probably my fault. I'm sorry, Stan, I didn't know- I didn’t think- I don't want you to feel sick. I don't know why I'm like this, I don’t want to be like this, making you sick and nauseous. This isn't what I wanted at all. I want to help you, not harm you. You can go. Rest.” He was nearly the size of an ant. Stan reached out his hand, wanting to say something, but everything quickly melted away. The walls, the furniture, even Tenna instantly dissolved, giving way to Stan's apartment once more. And then he was alone.

The TV was off. His clock showed that it was early in the morning. Stan breathed a sigh of relief and laid back down on his bean bag. It was a few hours before he would normally wake up. Stan concluded that if he left the TV off, then maybe he could get some uninterrupted sleep. So he curled up on the bean bag and let his eyes close once more. 

Stan did feel ever so slightly better once he finally woke up for the day. He felt like he actually got some rest this time, but his head still felt like it was splitting in half, and his nausea kept returning every time he moved too suddenly. He made his way to his feet to stretch. It was morning, thankfully. Plus it was a weekend. Spencer was usually free on weekends, and Stan desperately needed a real person to talk to. He dug out his phone and gave them a call.

“So are you positive that you're ok? You said you thought you were sick the other day, didn't you?” Spencer said, leaning on the counter across from Stan. “You really don’t look that good. Like you haven't slept in a few days.”

Stan took a sip of his coffee before responding. “I'm fine. I've just been losing track of time since I got this new [as seen on TV]. I, uh, guess I found a show I like.” Stan tried to put on a strained smile, but it must have been obvious he wasn't telling the full truth.

“Oh! What show is it? I may have heard of it.”

“I… I don’t [do you remember].” Stan rubbed his head. Another lie. Every time he woke up from a dream featuring Tenna, some things were kind of foggy, but he still remembered it all clearly.

“Oh, well, I’m sure it’ll come to you eventually.” Spencer quickly glanced at the time. “I should probably go. Don't want to be late to work again! Haha..” They awkwardly laughed then gathered their belongings and stood up, turning to Stan before leaving. “I'm glad you’re alright, Stan. Just try to get some sleep, ok?”

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks for [checking in] on me. I'm [still a piece of garbage]- I mean, it's nice to have you around, Spence.”

Spencer smiled, then turned to leave, shutting the door behind them. 

Stan made his way back over to the TV, flopping down on his bean bag. He felt a lot worse than he let on. His bout of feeling decent earlier that morning was short lived. His head felt like it was splitting apart. He was overcome with nausea and dizziness every time he moved. His stomach was killing him. His temperature was probably way too high, and he was sweating like crazy. And he swore when that TV was in his peripheral vision, it had a sort of glow to it. Like when you cross your eyes and your hand splits into two, the TV appeared to have a pink replica that wasn’t there when Stan looked directly at it. It was getting harder to tell where dreams and hallucinations ended and reality began. And all of that started when he got the CRT in the first place.

Stan was ready to curl up on his bean bag and sleep for the rest of the day, but his body wouldn't let him. He didn't want to turn on the TV either. It was just going to make everything worse. Stan's head felt fuzzy. His stomach was getting worse with every second. His throat tightened and his mouth watered. Something was welling up in the back of his throat. He already knew what was coming next, so he made a break for the bathroom. 

Stan heaved over the toilet for several minutes. The only thing that came up was his morning coffee, then nothing. The last time he ate actual food was yesterday. Why did it still feel like there was something trying to come up his throat? Stan coughed, and then he could feel something. Something solid in the back of his mouth. Stan reached a hand into his mouth. He felt something back there, and he grabbed it and pulled. Slowly, he pulled a long, thin strip out of his throat. He gagged and retched until finally the entire strip was out in a massive clump on the floor. It took a few minutes before Stan could finally catch his breath again. He looked down at the mass in front of him. It sort of resembled an unwound video tape. 

What the hell? He picked it up to inspect it closer, trying not to gag again. What? How did that-? The fuck? Stan dropped the tape on the floor again and ran to the sink to wash his hands. He splashed a little water on his face. Is this real? Am I still dreaming? How do I even tell? This feels real right now, but it feels just as real when I’m in that dream. Stan held his hands up to his eyes, focusing on them. They were real, in front of him. He breathed in and out, slowly. This is real. Is that better or worse than it being a dream? Stan didn’t want to think about any of that. He couldn’t think coherently anyways. He was still recovering from throwing up an entire heap of video tape. He needed something to take his mind off of everything.

Stan sighed and turned on the TV. He didn’t even need to go to sleep this time. Static flooded out from the screen, filling his apartment before dissolving into the warped reality he was slowly getting used to.

“Stan!” Tenna appeared in front of Stan along with the rest of the set. “How are you feeling? Are you doing better after that ad break?”

“Yeah. Yeah I'm feelin [excellent quality goods]. Just tired.” It wasn’t a complete lie.

Tenna picked Stan up in an unexpected hug. “Wonderful! I'm sure you'll get used to me in time, Stan. Until then, you can just take regularly scheduled breaks when you feel a little worse for wear! You’ll feel a lot less sick once we get to know each other a little better, I’m sure!”

“Uh-huh.” Stan wasn’t convinced.

Tenna just smiled and turned towards the audience that wasn’t there. “On today’s episode, we’re bringing in the pyrotechnics! We’ve got a big show planned, so hold on to your fireproof hats, folks!”

Stan wasn’t in the mood to question anything today. He was too tired. He allowed the show to play out. It was at least some way to get his mind off of whatever just happened. This TV was not only affecting him in this dream-like world, but also affecting him in the waking world. The strange occurrences of his fever dreams were infringing on reality, and it was becoming difficult to differentiate the real from the fake. Tenna doesn’t need to know about the tape. That’s for sure. That might be the only thing I know for sure.

Chapter Text

“So how long does a [repair job] usually take?” Stan asked, leaning slightly on the counter of the music shop.

“Depends on the tape, man. Do you have it with you?” The shopkeeper, whose nametag simply read “Cap’n”, asked.

“Oh, yeah, just give me a [second chance].” Stan dug in his pocket, pulled out the bundle of tape, and set it on the table. Cap’n’s eyes widened.

“Woah, that’s gnarly. I don’t think I’ve seen a tape wrecked like that before.”

“So how [long long ago] will it take?”

“2 weeks minimum, but it might take longer. Even then, I can’t guarantee you’ll be able to watch whatever’s on it. I can do my best, though.”

“Alright, sure. You'll [ring ring] me when it's done?”

“Yeah, just no promises I'll be able to fix it perfectly.”

Stan nodded and left the store. It had been a few days since he threw up the tape, and he was feeling a bit better. Better enough to be walking around outside, at least. Vomiting seemed to help a little. He still had a faint headache, but overall he was doing much better.

Stan winced as he rounded the corner to be met with one endless wall of the Addison Mall. It was an awful thing, taking up a fourth of the entire business district. It was always the first thing he saw when he left his apartment, outshining every other building in the vicinity not because of its height, but its sheer length and width. Stan did not regret quitting his job there in the slightest. Sure, he was broke and basically unemployed now, but it sure beat having to work there.

Stan stopped on the way to grab a few groceries before arriving at home. He opened the door and set the groceries on the counter before heading over to the bean bag. He quickly checked if his listings had any buyers. Nope, nothing new there. Stan shrugged off his shirt, laid down on the bean bag and sighed. He hesitated before reaching over to turn on the TV. Might as well find some background noise. It immediately turned on to the cooking channel. Stan didn't mind the cooking channel, so he just left it on that and laid back down to rest his eyes. I'm not gonna fall asleep, just gotta rest my eyes for a few minutes. Just a few minutes, that’s it. If I stay awake, then I won’t have to worry about putting up with Tenna’s show right now. I'm way too tired to put up with all of that today. But Stan couldn't resist the tug of sleep. He was pulled under, further and further down into the dream again. The sounds of the cooking channel got louder and louder, and then…

Stan's eyes shot open. “Welcome back, everyone, to another very special episode of cooking with Mr. Ant Tenna! We've got everyone's favorite guest star making another appearance today, folks, give a round of applause for Mr. Stan G. Stanton!” Applause and music rang out in his head again. They were on a cooking set this time, complete with a little kitchenette and a bar. Tenna was dressed in a chef hat and apron and standing center stage, right next to Stan. “Today, our lovely contestant will be tasked with catching the falling food while also avoiding the burning fire at his feet. Then, he must-”

“STOP!” Stan yelled as loud as he could, interrupting Tenna. Tenna froze in place, his screen black. The music cut off.

“What?” Tenna was completely still, apart from his tail and antennas twitching. 

“I'm not playing in your [let’s play a game] show! I was just trying to rest my [peepers] for a few minutes, not [fight for my life] jumping around and dodging [fireproof filing cabinets]!” 

Tenna shrunk slightly. “But I did this all for you, Stanny. I thought you wanted entertainment?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t want to [be a part of it]! I just wanted to rest while watching some [classic television]. Why do you keep bringing me here anyways?”

Tenna looked down and kicked his feet, still shrinking. “Well, it gets boring when you aren't here, Stan. I bring you here because I want someone to talk to. You're the first person to really look at me, to watch me, in so many years. And! I'm doing you a favor by bringing you here! Haven't you been happier since you brought me home? Haven't I brought you joy? Isn't all of this so much fun?”

Stan didn't want to admit it, but Tenna's shows had been a little fun. He actually enjoyed them most of the time, that was probably why he kept coming back and turning the TV on. The problem was that Tenna didn't know when to stop. He always, ALWAYS, without fail, overstayed his welcome. That was the biggest issue with these shows. Today in particular, Stan was not in the mood for a gameshow at all. There was also the fact that Stan still couldn’t understand how any of this was even possible. Nothing made sense anymore, and some things no longer felt real enough or felt more real than they were supposed to. As long as those thoughts continued to linger in the back of his mind, there was no way he could enjoy this. He wanted answers. Answers that Ant kept refusing to give him. 

He exploded. “None of this is fun! You aren’t doing me a [party favor] by bringing me here at all, if I wanted to come here I wouldn’t keep trying to leave!” Stan half lied. “I need some kind of [explanatory]. There has to be a sensible reason for all of this, right? Because nothing you’ve done so far has made any [cents]! And-”

“Oh, Stan!” Tenna interrupted him. “You're hilarious! Really! Not having fun? Impossible! Haha! Maybe we should organize a comedy show for-”

“Stop. Stop talking. Let me [speak for myself]. You- You- [BEEP]- ANSWERS. YOU'RE. GIVING ME. ANSWERS!” Stan yelled out, frustrated. He winced every time his voice was censored, the loud beeping coming from his own throat involuntarily. “None of this is [the real deal], this is all some kind of [sweet dreams], it’s [too good to be true]! Every time I turn on that [cathode ray tube], you bring me here, to this [BEEEEP] up [dreamscape] place and-”

“More like a dream come true, right?” Tenna interrupted once again, this time with a poor attempt at a quip, ignoring Stan’s questions entirely.

“STOP [Interrupting cow]. This isn’t real. YOU aren’t real. It’s just a dream, so…” Stan trailed off. He wasn’t sure where he was going with this. “... just- EXPLAIN!”

“Well, if you really must know, it's not a dream, not exactly. It's more like a… like a really immersive broadcast! Everything here, it’s like an extension of me and my memories. It’s everything you see on TV and more, it’s. It’s hard to explain. Even I don’t fully understand it. But, Stan! None of that matters! All that matters is we’re here! You don’t need to worry about all those nitty gritty details. Just enjoy this, without thinking about the why or how.”

“Nonono, I can’t just [enjoy some complimentary dish towels] this, nothing about this is normal! Normal [televisions] don’t beg people to stay and watch, they don’t give people [headaches and migraines] just by being near them and cause them to vomit out [heaps of trash]!”

“I’m sorry, vomit?”

“AND.” Stan continued. “Normal TVs don’t do any of this! These [episodes], these dreams. You aren’t even supposed to be [living and breathing]! So what the [BEEP] is going on?”

“Stan.”

“What even are you, anyways? I asked you [before our sale runs out] and you never gave me a [straight and narrow] answer! What in the [world wide web] are you? What the [BEEP] is any of this?” Stan gestured wildly at the entire studio around them.

“Stan, none of that matters. Can’t you just enjoy something without questioning every little aspect of it? I only want to help you. Your daily life is a drag, isn't it? Don't you just hate it out there? In the real world? I can only assume it’s awful out there. Haha, I wouldn’t know, of course. I’m just a box plugged into the wall! But. I can take you away from all of that. You can escape from all of those pesky troubles of reality with a little TV magic! I can do anything for you! I might not be able to leave anymore, but while you’re here, I can give you anything you want and more! I can give you the perfect life, devoid of anything weighing down on you. I can give you freedom from all those responsibilities and obligations of the real world. After all…” Tenna then grew in size, towering over Stan even more than he previously was. Stan took an involuntary step back. “ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE ON TV!”

“You’re wrong, this is all [wrong answer]! You think I can fulfill my dreams by watching TV all day? You think this is freedom?”

Tenna shrunk slightly. “Well, yes…?”

“No, no, this is the op- opposite of freedom. This is a cage, a trap.” Stan paced in a circle as he spoke. “I can’t make it [BIG] if I don't go out into the world and [face the music]. I need to [stretch my wings] so I can [soar] to [NEO] heights! I can’t just [rot] away in here, [acting] out a perfect reality while the real world is waiting out there. Pretending isn’t gonna do anything for me. I need freedom. Real freedom. Not some [imitation crab] of what freedom would be like.” Stan spread his arms wide and spun in a circle. “Freedom.”

Tenna’s antennas twitched, his tail flicked once. He forced an award losing smile onto his cracked screen. “Of course! I understand. That makes sense. That’s reasonable. Yes...” His smile faltered and his face quickly flicked to black as he started to lose his composure. His face began dripping that staticky fluid again. Was that his version of tears? His shoulders were shaking. “I understand. I just can’t.. I can’t be enough for you. Not like this… I’m not real, not anymore. I’m just junk. Just a box plugged into the wall. I can’t be there for you like a real person can.” Tenna suddenly seized Stan, grabbing him with now massive hands as his size shot up again. Stan’s breath was knocked out of him for a moment. “But I really WANT to be real! I want to be real for YOU, Stan! I want to be out there with you! Not trapped in here! I want to walk around again, see the world. I want to FEEL.”

“Ant- Stop- You’re [easy squeasy] me-” Stan struggled to get a word in.

“And I know, I KNOW that I can’t. I KNOW that I’m not real anymore. I KNOW I can’t go outside with you. I know. But can’t we just pretend that I can?” His grip tightened as his size increased more and more. “Can’t we just act like I can be there for you in real life too? Actually, you don’t even have to leave. You can just stay here with me. You don’t need to go back to that life.” Tenna wouldn’t let go. “A good show never has to end, Stan! You can just keep renewing it and renewing it for another season. Yeah, sure, it might get stale after a while and lose what made it great in the first place, but isn't that better than having nothing at all? Isn't it?”

“LET GO OF ME, [Trash heap]!” Stan yelled as loud as his lungs would allow. His grip only tightened.

“You don't have to go, Stan. You can be happy here. Anything is possible on TV! Just as long as you don't change the channel. Just as long as you keep the TV on, Stan. Please. Don't turn me off. Don’t throw me out again.” Stan thrashed around, trying to escape Tenna’s hands. “PLEASE, STAN! DON’T THROW ME OUT!! I CAN BE HELPFUL TO YOU! JUST ADMIT THAT YOU NEED ME!” Stan’s hands pushed away from the screen, trying to get away. His eyes landed on a button. “I CAN’T GO BACK THERE, STAN, SO PLEASE! STAN-” He pressed it. 

The environment flickered away as quickly as a TV turning off. Stan was lying on the floor of his apartment, hands gripping the edges of the CRT screen, completely out of breath. He quickly pulled away from the TV, so as to not accidentally turn it back on. He sat on the ground for several minutes, catching his breath and slowly coming out of a state of shock.

“God. FFFuck.” He spoke between gasping breaths. He had no other words. How was anyone supposed to react to something like that? He crawled over to his bean bag and sprawled himself out on it, staring at the ceiling. He managed to drift off to sleep, actual sleep, because it wasn’t like he was going to be getting anything else done for the day, not after that. He was definitely going to need a few days to process all of that.

Several days passed. Stan walked into his apartment and slammed the door behind him. He pulled off his shirt and tossed it aside, along with the rest of his belongings, before flopping down on the bean bag. Stan had a splitting headache and he was completely exhausted. It had been one of the shittiest days he’d had in a while. Though, at least for now, there was a place he could go to get away from it all. Stan's eyes fell on the TV. He hadn’t turned it on in several days, not since that last time. He’d barely thought about it all week. But some mindless entertainment sounded really appealing right now. Maybe Tenna was in a better mood now. Stan sighed and clicked the button.

His room quickly dissolved into the stage once again. Tenna was facing away, but quickly wiped off his screen, straightened his tie, brushed himself off, spun around and spread his arms wide. “Stan!! Welcome back! It's been a while since you've wanted to watch TV. How long has it been? A month?”

“It's not [even or odd] been a week.” 

“Guess it feels a lot longer when you’re trapped in a little box the whole time, hahaha!” Tenna laughed awkwardly before going quiet for several moments. “Well, anyways, I’ve got a great show planned, so-”

“Tenna.” Stan rubbed his still aching head. “I’m not doing that today, [alright alright alright]? Not feeling [great prices] right now.”

“Oh. I see. I understand.” Tenna's screen went dark.

“Please don't start that again. I don't want a [over and over again] of last time.”

Tenna turned his screen back on and lifted his head to look at Stan. “I'm sorry, Stan. I know that last episode was a little rough. Ended on a bit of a cliffhanger, you know? I’ve. Never been the biggest fan of cliffhangers. I enjoy a good, solid ending to something. Or no ending at all! Good things don’t have to end!”

Stan wasn’t particularly in the mood for it, but it seemed like a better time than ever to set some actual ground rules and boundaries if his TV was going to continue to double as an irksome roommate. “Look, Tens, you can’t keep doing stuff like that. I’ll keep coming back, I’m not [throwing you to the dogs], alright? It’s just- when you do stuff like THAT, it makes me not want to [stick around] you. I won’t [liar liar], I’ve actually been enjoying your company at times. But you just don’t know when to [STOP], and you can’t take no for an answer. You’ve gotta understand that I can’t have all of my attention on you [24/7/365], alright? I can still come around, I can watch TV, but on my own [terms and conditions], alright? No forcing me to [stay right here]. If you can do that much, then I’ll keep watching.”

Stan didn’t notice when it was happening, but over the course of Stan talking, Tenna had shrunk until about a foot tall. Tenna sniffed. “I’m sorry.” His voice was very quiet. “I want to be better for you, Stan, I really, really do. I just- it’s easy to get scared when it’s so easy for you to just unplug me and toss me back out there. I want to try and improve. I want to try.”

“Trying is a good place to [ready? start!], I guess. If you’re making some kind of effort, that's better than [nothing].”

There was a period of silence between the two. “Th- thanks Stan.” Tenna wiped his screen. He slowly grew back to a decent size. Not his full size, but around Stan’s height. “Oh, uhm, one more thing.” Tenna put a defensive hand over the off button on his head. “Could you, uh, please not turn me off like that again? Like last time? As I said, I’m not a fan of cliffhangers. So, uh, please don’t leave me on one again.”

“Yeah, yeah. I won’t [click] your off button just as long as you don’t try to force me to stay.” Stan rubbed his still aching head. “[Now that we’re on the same page], you got any [shit]coms? I need to get my mind off of the real world for [just a little while].”

“Oh! Of course!” Tenna snapped his fingers and they were once again in Tenna’s living room. The rest of the night was spent in silence, watching crappy sitcoms together. Eventually, the both of them fell asleep on the couch, with Stan’s head laying on Tenna’s stomach.

The next morning, Stan woke up on his apartment floor, curled up next to the warmth of the CRT. He actually felt well rested for once. Maybe things really could improve from here. Maybe, just maybe, Stan’s weird magical living television wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

Chapter Text

Several weeks passed. Stan paid Tenna a visit nearly every afternoon, on his own terms. Little by little, Tenna was improving. He tried his best to be less forceful and allow Stan to leave when he requested. He trusted now that Stan would keep coming back, that he wouldn't abandon him, at least not now. Stan played along with Tenna's shows when he wasn't feeling exhausted, and sat back and watched TV with him when he was. Stan was enjoying himself, so he kept coming back. There were still times when Tenna was pushy or struggled to accept what Stan wanted to do, but he was improving. Everything, at least for right now, seemed alright.

Stan and Tenna were watching TV in Tenna's living room. It was a very calm night, and Stan noticed that Tenna was being even nicer to him than usual. The movie concluded and the end credits rolled. Tenna instantly flopped over, his head landing in Stan's lap, facing up towards Stan with a wide smile on his screen.

“What did you think of that one, hm? It's one of my personal all-time favorites. Such impressive graphics as well.”

“I think I remember watching it when I was a kid, but I'd say it still holds up. The graphics, though, yeeeeeechhh, the humans looked way too [freaky deaky]. Definitely a [farm fresh produce] of its time.”

“What? That stuff is cutting edge! How about you find me a movie with better 3d animation next time!”

“Haha, I [bet on it] I could!”

“Well, I'll be waiting, then!” Tenna crossed his arms and turned his head away, but his tone was lighthearted. It was nice to actually be able to joke around with him. “Anyways, Stan, I've got a little surprise for you tonight.”

“Oh, really? [Watt] is it?”

Tenna grinned and snapped his fingers, causing the room around them to shift into a brand new room, like changing a channel. The two of them now sat across from each other at a circular table adorned with a fancy tablecloth. The only source of light was the candle in the center of the table. The surroundings were hard to make out in the dim lighting. There might not have even been any surroundings. The only things that mattered right now, the only things that existed in this void, were the table, Tenna and Stan.

“A candle lit [fine dining]? What's the occasion?”

“Haha, yeah. I thought I’d treat you to something nice for once, you know? You've been such a great audience to me, Stan, and I've not really been the best host. I want to be better for you. I want to help you, however I can. So, I set up this little dinner for the both of us.”

“Gee, [thanks a lot], Ant. I don't know what to say!” Stan tried to express his gratitude, though he couldn’t find the right words. “What's [on the menu], anyways?”

“Whatever you want!”

Stan looked contemplative for a moment. “D'you [hadplen] to have Thai curry by any chance?” Tenna snapped his fingers and a bowl of curry immediately appeared on the table in front of Stan. “Oh! Thanks.” Stan tried a bite and was immediately stunned by the flavor. It was the best he'd ever had. 

As he continued to dig in, Tenna snapped a few more times, summoning a glass of water, an unbranded soda, and what appeared to be a tv dinner. The water was pushed to Stan’s side of the table.

“You're really gonna eat a tv dinner? Out of any [feast your eyes] in the world?”

“W-well, yeah! You can't go wrong with a classic TV dinner! It's always been one of my favorites, a comfort food I guess. I can't really, uh, taste it anymore, and I don't remember how it used to taste, but it's still comforting to pretend.”

Stan hummed and continued eating his food. Tenna poked at his dinner a few times with his fork, not bringing any up to his mouth. Stan could feel Tenna’s legs bouncing nervously under the table. “So, uh, how'd you [make or break] this food, anyways? It's good.” Stan said in between bites.

“Well, it's actually sort of an illusion. Like- like everything else here. It’s not real. It only tastes the way you imagine it's supposed to taste. Once you leave here, it- it’ll be like you never ate it at all.”

“Oh.” Stan took another bite. That was hard to believe, it tasted so real to him, but the line between real and fake had been blurring more and more ever since he met Tenna.

“I'm sorry, Stan. I wish I could make you actual food. I hope this can at least make up for it in the meantime.”

Stan took a second to finish chewing before responding. “Ant, this stuff is great! It more than makes up for it! Y’ don’t owe me anything.”

Tenna clapped his hands together. “That's great to hear!” He smiled, but it slowly faded back into a neutral expression. There was a long period of silence between the two. Tenna kept changing his position, tapping his hands on the table nervously as sweat appeared to form on his screen. He opened his mouth a few times as if he was going to say something, but closed it again.

“Hey, Ten? You kinda look like you want to ask me something.” Stan broke the silence between bites. “Have you been [buttering me up] all night just to get something out of me?” Stan's tone was playful, but Tenna's antennas drooped.

“Mmmaybe.” Tenna muttered. 

“Well [spit it out] then! I'm [all ears], here!” Stan set his utensils down and turned his focus solely on Tenna.

“Alright. I've been thinking about this for a while, um. Would you- would you be willing to leave the TV on? At least while you're at home?”

“Huh? Why? What does leaving you on do?”

“Well, I'd be able to manifest myself outside of the TV, maybe roam around your apartment a little. I’m still tied to the TV, so I can’t go particularly far without a vessel of some sort. But! We could talk without you having to come here! I know you've not been the happiest with our arrangement here, so I thought we could spend a little time out there as well! I won't really be able to interact with stuff the way I can in here. Heck, I'll be even less real out there. But I won't be trapped in a box all the time! And we can still come back here, of course! It’ll be much better to watch movies on my couch instead of your- uh- bean bag.”

Stan sat in stunned silence for a moment. “I didn't know that was an [answer choice]. You can actually appear outside of these… dream… things? Why didn’t you ever mention that [bee] [four]?”

“Well, yeah! I didn’t want to pop out of the TV the first time you turned it on and frighten you and ruin my chances of you ever turning on the TV again. And, I guess, when you’re in here with me I have a little more control over everything. Out there, I don’t think I can force you to stay like I can here. I mean, I guess it sounds a little silly now that I’m saying it out loud, but I was scared that you would just leave and I wouldn’t be able to go after you or stop you. I wanted to wait until you were more familiar with me first, especially seeing as I didn't really leave a good first impression. I think- well, I hope you've been coming around to me. I've been trying my best to be someone you can rely on, so maybe, just maybe, I could be a little more real to you?” Tenna's tail was wagging, and, if he had them, he'd have been giving Stan big puppy dog eyes.

Stan thought for a few seconds before coming to a conclusion. “Y'know what? Sure. I can’t leave the TV on [forever and always], I'll probably have to turn you off when I leave the apartment so I don't drive up any bills, but I can leave you on when I'm at [home sweet home]. But yes, I can do that for you.”

Tenna’s antennas perked up. He looked surprised. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah! I can’t be very productive in here, anyways. I can’t be watching TV all the time. I’ve got [hard work] to do, you know? Gotta get out and [stretch my wings] a little! So it works out just fine. Just don't forget about those [ground up] rules, okay?”

Tenna's size shot up. He stood from his seat, arms to the sky, tail wagging a mile a minute. “THANK YOU, STAN! THANK YOU, THANK YOU! YOU WON'T REGRET THIS!” The dining table popped out of existence as if to make room, and Tenna lunged forward into a massive hug, knocking over Stan’s chair along with Stan. Stan was the size of a plushie in comparison to Tenna at this point, but he tried his best to return the hug.

After the incredibly long hug, Tenna slowly let go and shrank back down to a relatively normal size. He took a few steps back and brushed himself off while the table rematerialized in between them. Stan carefully stood up and placed his chair back upright, then sat down and tried to resume his meal.

“Well, let's not prolong this any longer. I've been waiting to stretch my legs for so long!”

Stan tried to protest around the bite of food he just put in his mouth. “But I'm not-” The world suddenly spun and shifted until he was in his apartment once more. 

The TV was on and full of static. Stan lamented the loss of his perfectly good dinner. The taste was quickly fading from his tongue and his stomach growled as if he hadn’t eaten all day, and he hadn't. He couldn’t mourn the loss of his meal for long, though, because a low droning sound began to emanate from the CRT. Something shifted in the static, and before he knew it, a large, pink, translucent, gloved hand shot out of the TV screen. Then another. Slowly, Tenna pulled himself out of the screen, mimicking a scene from a horror movie. Tenna pulled himself completely out of the screen and lifted himself off of the ground with ease.

“Haha, Yes! I've always wanted to do that!” Tenna stretched like he hadn’t stretched in years. His feet were lifted off of the ground slightly; he was floating.

“Was the [dramatic entrance] really necessary?”

“No, but who WOULDN’T do that if given the chance? Anyways, it feels GREAT to be out of there!” Tenna stretched some more. He spread his limbs wide and spun in circles in the air. Tenna looked different than he had in their previous encounters. His entire body was tinted pink and see through. The edges of his form fizzled with static, causing him to appear more gaseous than solid. His clothes were also much more roughed up than they were previously, with stitches, rips, and holes riddled throughout. There was one hole that was larger and more noticeable than the rest in the middle of his stomach. Inside were what appeared to be wires, mimicking some semblance of organs in there. Tenna’s head was covered in scuff marks and even a few small dents. The crack in his screen was more prominent than ever, unlike the way it appeared and disappeared with his emotions in dreams. Overall, he almost looked… Well, he looked like a ghost. It was a little unnerving.

Tenna had finished his stretching and was now looking around Stan’s apartment. He floated over to the little cabinet in the corner and looked through each drawer one by one by phasing his head through each.

“Hey- Hey- HEY!! Those are [privacy policy]!!!” Stan ran over and grabbed at Tenna’s arm to try and pull him back before he stuck his head in another drawer. His hands slipped through as if Tenna wasn’t there. Tenna’s arm temporarily dissolved before reforming again after Stan took a few steps back. “Wh- huh? Your arm just-”

Tenna stood up with a somber expression on his screen. “I told you, Stan, I can’t be real like you. Not while I’m like this.”

Stan stuck one of his arms into Tenna’s body again, causing him to scatter before reforming again. “Weird! How does that work? Do you [feel it] when I do that?”

“I guess? Just a tingle, really.” Tenna, disinterested in further questioning, floated off and made himself comfortable on the floor next to Stan’s beanbag.

Stan tilted his head to the side. He had so many questions about Tenna, but still none of them ever received a straight answer, so he was always afraid to ask. What was Tenna, really? Stan wanted to know what he was keeping from him. He walked over to join Tenna on the beanbag. Stan needed to find out the truth about Tenna, whatever it may be, but for now, while Tenna was laying right next to him, he would just have to get some rest instead. Curled up on his bean bag, between the warmth of the CRT and the fuzzy static of Tenna's body, Stan fell asleep.