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“What!? What do you mean you aren’t coming!?” Tenna shouted into the phone.
The speaker on the other side hissed through their teeth.
“Yeah… sorry ‘bout that. Something else came up.”
Tenna grimaced.
“Something more important than the show tonight?” His face smoothed over into a show-man’s grin and he pulled the phone closer. “Come on, the viewers are gonna be there for YOU! You don’t wanna let them down now do you?”
Another apologetic dismissal replied and Tenna felt his antennae twitch. He was losing his guest stars! But maybe he could still save this.
“Alright, alright I get it. Things happen! Maybe we could take a rain check?”
“Ehh I dunno… look I think we’re just gonna leave it. Thanks for the opportunity though, but uh… yeah. Sorry again! Bye!” And with a click the caller was gone and so was his trio of special guests he’d been preparing for the last two weeks to have as the main feature of the season finale. The season finale that was happening TONIGHT.
The phone casing creaked under his grip and his grin strained. This wasn’t happening. This was some illusion, a prank call! Or maybe a stress-induced nightmare! That was certainly within the realm of possibility.
A few more moments of standing there with the phone in his hand left him in a heavy silence.
He had to face the facts.
This was really happening.
Tenna sighed a shaky sigh and dropped the phone back on the receiver, before turning and straightening his tie. He looked around his dressing room until he caught sight of the clock on the wall. 12:00pm blared brightly in red digits.
Oh boy. Oh no. Where had the morning gone? He’d gotten up early this morning and excitedly called out for the production team to start wrapping up the preparations. Then he’d gone live with the news, which included a short but over the top segment reminding the audience tune in to the game show.
“Coming to you tonight, 7:00pm sharp! The one and only triad of talent! Of wit and wile! Don’t miss it because tonight is going to be a show to remember!”
Thinking back on the announcement just a few short hours ago had him tensing and his pulse speeding up. He watched the clock tick over another minute before looking away, not willing to stand idle while precious time slipped away. He started to pace back and forth, tugging at his tie a few times before pressing it back down.
‘Why do I make such big promises? What am I going to do now? I can’t cancel the show. But I can’t go through with it now either! I promised special guests! I’m going to let everyone down!’
He stopped short and gasped.
He was going to let everyone down. The live audience would pour into the studio with hustle and bustle, thoroughly hyped for the main event. Viewers would watch with bated breath from their living rooms as they bore witness to the long awaited season finale. Hundreds of people would watch as Tenna gave the news, the terrible horrible news that their promised idols would not be there.
Long running fans would be enraged, families with small children would become depressed, and all in all, everyone would be disappointed. Because of him!
They would all turn away, vowing to never watch his show, heck, to never even watch TV ever again! He would be ruined!
There was a clear path to doom ahead of him and Tenna’s body buzzed with tension and fear. His vision pixelated around the edges and he reached up to grasp his head in both hands. The more worked up he got the hotter he got too, only adding to the discomfort and sense of doom. He was hyperventilating now, though he wasn’t aware of it. His vision had gone fuzzy, blurred by the static that marred his screen, though he didn’t notice it.
‘Why did they cancel? Why did they leave? Was it because of me? Now everyone is going to leave me!’
A sharp, distorted whine left his throat and he stumbled back against the wall, slumping against it and sliding down so his knees hit the floor and his feet curled either side of him.
It was so hot and loud now and his fingers were tingling. He couldn’t quite remember exactly what led this point anymore. All he knew was that something very bad was going to happen, was already happening? Something bad. Something bad. Bad bad bad.
Too caught up in the whirlwind of overwhelmed panic, he didn’t hear the short rap at the door, or the hinge creak as it opened.
-
The voice on the phone had promised him big things, so long as he followed its advice. So far so good! He was living the dream! But he could always get bigger.
His partnership with a Mr (Ant) Tenna was new, but already it had boosted sales and popularity. Honestly he was excited for his segment during this evening’s news reel. 6:00pm was prime time for viewings and he intended to take full advantage of the short time live to advertise his next batch of renewed cars. He only sold them a handful at a time, boasting of their rarity and high value, pushing viewers to [BUY NOW! BEFORE THEY’RE GONE FOR GOOD!] only to present the next batch just a week later.
But since the number of buyers was going up, the cars were selling quicker than he was showing them. May as well boost the sales by showing off a few more. It would only take a little longer and he was sure Tenna wouldn’t mind sparing him a few more minutes tonight. If not, he could always sway him with promises of [HOW TO BE A BIG SHOT!]
He rapped at the door as he skimmed over the paper in his hand.
“Hey Tenna, I got a proposal for tonight. Mind if I steal you for a sec?” He called out as he opened the door.
The door opened with a squeak (man that really needed looking at) and he peered into the dressing room.
The couch on the left was vacant and the desk straight ahead was its usual half organised clutter, but it was the sound of whirring and heavy puffs of air on his right that caught his attention.
Hunched by the wall was Tenna, his screen flickering with waves of static and shoulders heaving with each breath.
Spamton’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped an inch at the sight. Well this was… unexpected.
He wasn’t really sure what to do, he was even tempted to just shut the door and come back later, he could get away with it easily. But the thought passed as he continued to watch the CRT panic. He sighed.
Entering the room fully, he closed the door with a quiet snick behind him, not taking his eyes of Tenna as he put his paper down on the desk. He walked over and knelt down with raised hands to try and show he was no threat. He had no idea what had caused this to happen, or how Tenna might react when he finally realised he was there, but he didn’t want to make things worse by startling him.
Now that he was closer he would pick out a few sounds. The metallic rush of air against his vents, the white noise of static and the buzz of something being overworked inside of him. None of them sounded good. He grimaced when he heard the sound of his casing creak under his hands.
“Hey uh… Tenna? You wanna [THAT’S A LOT OF PRESSURE] ease up a bit?”
The TV jolted as he spoke, looking up to face him. Tenna’s face appeared through the static, mouth twisted in a grimace.
“Spa-Spamton?” He choked out.
Spamton nodded once.
“Yeah that’s [DON’T WEAR IT OUT] -that’s me. You doing alright there?” He winced as he asked it, of course he wasn’t ok why did he say that?
Tenna just stared, continuing to pant, before shaking his head.
“Right. Ok. How about we get your breathing [EVERYTHING IS UNDER CONTROL] ok?”
Tenna’s face flickered under another wave of static but he nodded.
“Good.” Spamton offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile and sat back, making a show of breathing in slow and deep. “Like this.”
Tenna watched, then tried to follow along, but his breath stuttered and caught on the way in and huffed fast on the way out. He went straight back to panting afterwards.
Spamton’s brow twitched, hoo boy this might take a while. Did he really want to be doing this?
Tenna seemed to catch on to his hesitation and shrunk in on himself, literally, his size dropped down a few inches as his shoulders bunched up further.
“Hey [HEY YOU!] it’s ok! Just try again, don’t worry about it.” He waved a hand and took a breath again, prompting Tenna to follow.
Sure enough, he breathed in again, holding the breath a second before letting the hot air puff out of his vents.
“There you go [HOTSHOT] just like that. You’re a natural.”
Tenna’s antennae twitched upwards at the encouragement and he took another breath, this one coming just a little smoother.
‘This isn’t too hard.’ Spamton thought to himself as he watched the TV’s breathing ease into something less erratic. His screen was still flickering and he was still tersely wound up like a coil but it wasn’t so bad now.
He was getting stuffy though, the air around them hot and heavy. He pulled at his collar briefly before adjusting himself to sit a little more comfortably.
Eventually his breathing slowed and his shoulders dropped along with his hands. Spamton watched as he clasped his hands together in his lap, the harsh static of his screen dulled to a barely visible grain.
“Better?” He asked.
“Yeah. I think so.” Tenna shrugged. He smiled lightly as he looked up at him.
“Thanks.”
For what? Breathing?
“Pfft, don’t worry about it. It was no [BIG DEALS NEAR YOU]” He brushed it off, though he did accept the gratitude.
“So uh… what was that all about anyway?”
The question slipped out of casual curiosity, but he immediately regretted it when Tenna’s smile dropped. Spamton watched with a swoop of alarm as his lip trembled.
“The show tonight. It’s- It’s ruined! It’s a disaster!” Tenna flung his hands out and sobbed.
“My guest stars cancelled on me! They hate me I know it! Everybody does!” He was almost wailing now, his arms dropped beside him and antennae drooping apart.
Yeesh, he was not cut out for this. A panic attack? Sure ok, not his idea of a good time but doable. Crippling self doubt that had his business partner crying his heart out? No thank you.
He openly sneered now which made Tenna sob even harder.
“Y-You hate me tooooo!”
Spamton sighed and rolled his eyes.
“‘Course I don’t hate you. Nobody does. Now come on, just [TRY AGAIN!] take a breath just like before.” He reached over and grabbed a hand, squeezing it lightly.
Tenna’s breath hitched and he looked between their clasped hands and Spamton’s face, who was trying to appear sympathetic again. He took a shaky breathed and sobbed dryly but stopped bawling.
“See? You’re fine.” He reassured, patting his hand. Was that comforting? Hopefully. It seemed to be working.
“So what if they flunked out? Just invite some new guests, anyone from the audience, get them involved! They won’t care about the other guys not showing up if it’s about them. They just want to [LAST CHANCE TO WIN BIG] be included.”
Tenna snuffled.
“R-Really? You think that’ll work?”
“Sure it will [CATHODE]. Trust me, this finale will be a hit.” He straightened himself and smirked smugly.
Tenna hummed as he thought it over, before sitting up straight and looking up at the clock which was nearing 1:00pm. He snapped his head back at Spamton and squeezed both his hands in his own, face brightening, again literally.
“You’re right! Oh you’re a genius Spam! It’ll be great!” He pulled them both up to their feet and started to spout off how surprised and entertained the audience will be when they are offered the chance to be the stars of his show, now back at his usual towering height.
Spamton watched with amusement as he spun on his heel, scooping a notepad and pen off his desk and scribbling down script ideas. He couldn’t help but cross his arms and smile at the display.
“What would I do without you?” He closed his notebook, still beaming. “Oh! That’s right. Why did you come here? Did you need something?”
Spamton stilled, his smile faltering briefly. His plans for his segment extension. He still wanted to do that… but that might take away time from Tenna’s show tonight. Even just planning the adjustment would be difficult with the big change of plans he now had to deal with.
“I just wanted to stop by, say [HELLO THERE FRIEND] that’s all.” He shrugged casually.
“Oh! Well I’m glad you did. I was a little uh… hehe… worried. But I’m hunky-doody now! Top of my game. And speaking of game, we’ve got an epic game show finale to plan, if you’re not too busy that is.”
“Sure thing Ten, what’s the game plan?” He wandered over past the desk and gestured for Tenna to show his notes as he subtly swiped his paper and stuffed it in his back pocket.
-
The afternoon was a rush of planning and reorganising everyone and everything. He had to push Tenna aside and get him to sit and have a glass of cold water, he was still overheated and overworked after all. But at least he was buzzing with positive excitement now as opposed to sheer dread.
The news segment went by quickly and joyfully as Tenna happily informed the audience of the change in plans. Spamton looked down at his own notes for his segment, putting it aside as he stepped up to advertise his little batch of cars. Next week. He would ask Tenna about extending his segment next week.
Afterwards came the finale, which went off without a hitch. Bright lights and sweeping gestures and canned laughter filled the space as the show progressed and Spamton found himself a little proud of his part in it. Usually by this time of the night he would’ve left to go back to his room in the Queen’s mansion. But hey, this successful episode was partly his doing and he wasn’t gonna miss it.
No one could have guessed that Tenna had completely broken down earlier that day, not even Spamton if he hadn’t been there to witness it himself. He wondered how often that happened. How often did Tenna crumble under the stress of his job and his own perceived obstacles? How often did he spring back to herd around his staff and entertain his audience?
He shook off the thought. It was none of his business. Though some part of him hoped that if it happened again, he’d be in the right place at the right time to lend a hand once more. Only because he was so good at it, not because he actually cared about the guy. But hey, someone had to look out for him, in case he burnt himself out too much.
But he figured that wouldn’t happen anytime soon.
After all. The show must go on.