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If there was one thing in the world that Mr Ant Tenna hated above all else, it was change.
The passage of time would continue on its relentless march, but Tenna would always try to resist it. To stay rooted in place. To keep reliving his best days, back when he had an actual audience – a happy family, all gathered around to bask in his glorious glow. Back when he had a true purpose to fulfil for the Lightners.
Back when he first met Spamton.
But time is cruel. Time stands still for no-one. And as much as he might attempt to defy it, even Tenna would eventually get swept along by its merciless current. Such was the nature of the world.
That still didn't stop him from trying, though.
He had been living in Castle Town for the past few days, after reuniting at long last with Spamton. They were living together in a shared accommodation which was largely modelled on Tenna's green room (with a couple of additional smaller, adjacent rooms); and, for the most part, they were happy. But the readjustment to this new way of living, and to being back together again, was not completely free of challenges for them both.
If only it was ever that simple...
* * *
Tenna was humming to himself as he flicked lazily through an old photograph album. He'd kept so many of them over the years, each one housing a multitude of happy memories. He sat on the couch, wistfully looking over the pictures, until he was suddenly and loudly interrupted.
“GOOD MORNING, [Cathode]!!!”
“Oh my God!” Tenna exclaimed, almost dropping the album, “I didn't hear you come in, Spamton!”
The salesman chuckled, pulling himself up onto the couch to sit next to his partner.
“WHAT HAVE YoU [[GOT THERE]]?” he asked, peeking at the album in Tenna's hand.
“Oh, this?” the CRT asked, holding it out so that Spamton could get a closer look, “It's one of my old photograph albums! I've got a lot of them. I... just like to look through them every so often. They hold a lot of good memories, you know?”
Spamton didn't answer, instead shuffling nearer to Tenna so that he could get an even better look.
“See...” Tenna said as he flipped over the page, “Look at this! God, WHAT a night that was! Do you remember it, Spammy?”
Spamton stared at the photographs. He did remember that night, how could he ever forget it? It was one of the first nights that he and Tenna had gone out for a drink together. They both looked so happy, so carefree.
The salesman leaned in closer. It had been years since he had seen any pictures of himself from before he was...
He quickly looked away.
“YEAH. I REMEMBER.” he replied unenthusiastically. He slid off the couch and walked over to one of the many cabinets in the room.
Tenna looked perplexed. “Are you okay?” he asked.
“I'M FINE. I JUST [[want and need]] TO GET ON W1TH [[stuff and things]] TOdaY...” he replied dismissively as he rummaged through the cabinet, pulling out a large sewing kit. He carried it to one of the other couches in the room and removed his jacket. It was clean now, at least, but it was still falling apart at the seams.
Tenna watched him for a moment before returning to his photographs.
“You know, Spammy...” Tenna said carefully, “We could always buy a new jacket for you.”
“THIS ONE IS [Fine Goods],” Spamton replied, “NOTHING I CAN;T [[FIX UP]]! I'VE [Repaired] IT SO MANY [Time & Time Again]!”
Tenna nodded, his attention now back on his album. He continued to flick through it until...
“Spamton, look!” he exclaimed suddenly, leaping from the couch and running to join the smaller Darkner, “Look at this! This was from our first time working together!”
He thrust the album under Spamton's nose, much to the salesman's annoyance.
“I'M BUSY, [idiot box],” he grumbled, pulling items from the sewing kit without even glancing at the pictures.
“Spamton, are... are you SURE you're okay?” Tenna asked again, looking genuinely hurt, “I just thought you might want to see these.”
“NO. I DON'T,” Spamton replied sharply, causing the CRT to flinch slightly.
“Why not?”
“BECAUSE, I...” Spamton began before abruptly stopping himself.
Where would he even start? He hated being reminded of how much he had changed over the years; forced into this disgusting, unrecognisable form against his own will. He hated the fact that he could never go back to being who he was before, no matter how much he'd love to. He hated catching fleeting glimpses of his own reflection, only to see a puppet staring back at him.
“DON'T WORRY [[All About ]] IT.” he finally said, threading some black cotton onto a needle as carefully as he could, desperately trying to avoid making eye contact with Tenna.
“Oh. Okay...” the CRT replied with a heavy sigh, his antennas drooping slightly. He shuffled back to his couch and flopped into it, allowing himself to become engrossed in his precious memories once more.
Spamton stabbed the needle into his jacket with more force than he had intended to, pulling it through the thick material with an unsteady hand. His dexterity wasn't anywhere near as good as it used to be, and simple tasks like this often made him painfully aware of this fact. He had almost finished sewing when a sudden and violent glitch ripped through his body, making him drop everything onto the ground.
“GOD DAMN IT...” he grumbled, jumping off the chair and onto the floor to hastily retrieve the jacket. Tenna looked up, quickly getting to his feet when he realised what had happened.
“Spamton, do you want me to help you?”
“NO, I'VE [Got It],” the salesman mumbled in reply, still not able to meet Tenna's watchful gaze. His pride thoroughly getting the better of him, he gathered everything back up and sat back down without uttering another word.
Tenna knew better than to press Spamton further on this, and instead went back to poring over the photograph albums.
Once Spamton had finally finished patching up his jacket, he slipped it on and closely examined it. He would say “AS GOOD AS [[Brand New!]]” except... it really wasn't, truth be told. It was still exceptionally battered and worn, becoming almost threadbare in places. Much like Spamton himself, it had certainly seen better days. After a beat, he began to wander around the room, looking for a mirror. He disliked looking at himself, but he still wanted to make absolutely sure that the jacket was at least somewhat more presentable now.
To his surprise, he didn't find one anywhere. Perhaps it was for the best. He looked over at Tenna, who was still engrossed in his nostalgia trip. The salesman rolled his eyes and paced around the room for a moment, unsure of what to do with himself. Although he didn't want to worry Tenna with this information, in truth he was really struggling to adjust to his new life. Living out on the streets for so many years had taken a toll on Spamton in more ways that he liked to think about. Never having a comfortable place to sleep, never knowing when the next meal would come, always having to keep his guard up; it was proving immensely difficult to shake the mindset that this horrific way of life had instilled upon him. He now had a soft and comfortable bed to sleep in, was able to eat three meals a day, and was living with the one person who he shouldn't ever have to feel guarded around. And yet, a part of him was scared that everything would go wrong. That he'd be out on the streets again before long, and that he didn't deserve the second chance that fate had bestowed upon him.
And, worst of all, he worried that Tenna didn't really care about him. After all, that old television had become firmly rooted in the past – Spamton had seen it for himself when he accompanied the Fun Gang (in his Dealmaker form) on their perilous adventure in TV World. Tenna was desperate to try and get everything back to the way it used to be, his newfound obsession with the past becoming rather dangerous at times. And now, he had his head buried in old photograph albums. Could he even truly see Spamton for who he is now, almost unrecognisable from the person in those old pictures?
Spamton shook his head, not allowing himself to enter into a spiral of negativity.
“SO, [Cathode]...” he said cheerily after a moment of contemplation, acutely aware that he'd maybe been a bit too sharp with Tenna, “WHAT ARE YOU [DOING HERE] TODAY? ASIDE F<roM...” he gestured vaguely at the albums that had now been strewn all over the couch.
“Oh, I'm not sure,” Tenna replied, “I'll probably just keep going through these.”
Spamton simply nodded in reply.
Just let him get it out of his system, he thought to himself, He can't keep obsessing over these damn things forever!
* * *
A couple of weeks passed, and still Tenna kept insisting on looking at old photographs almost every single day. Conversations kept looping back around to the “good old days” at every opportunity - and Spamton had even caught the CRT replaying old commercials, which the duo had produced together in their heyday, on his screen when he thought Spamton wasn't looking!
The salesman was getting ever more irritated by the day.
He sat inspecting his jacket again, tugging on a thread that was haphazardly hanging from one of the sleeves. Tenna had finished his trip down memory lane a little earlier than normal today, and was watching Spamton closely.
Maybe Spamton is too proud to accept help, that's why he's so insistent on repairing his jacket again and again, Tenna thought to himself. This seemed like an easier problem to solve than the bigger one that was eating away at the CRT - he just couldn't understand Spamton's hostility towards seeing the photographs each day, or the distance that the puppet seemed to be putting between the two of them. The old days were amazing, after all, so there's no possible way that Spamton wouldn't want to relive them! Everything was better back then, when they had each other and were on top of the world. Tenna would give anything to relive those days again and he knew that Spamton felt the same way deep down.
And so, he hatched a plan.
“Spammy,” he called across the room to his partner, “I'm just going out. I won't be long!”
Spamton didn't even look up. “OK [[Cathode]]” he replied flatly.
* * *
While Tenna was away, Spamton decided to run a bath. He hummed to himself, gathering up the shampoo and soap while the tub gradually filled with water. Folding his clothes and putting them to one side with his glasses sitting neatly on top, he carefully lowered himself into the bathtub once the water was at the right level, sighing serenely as he sank into its warm embrace.
Oh, how he had missed this. Washing himself in the rain with whatever he could find, before having to climb back inside a rancid dumpster to sleep, had always left him feeling thoroughly disgusting. But to be able to have a proper bath, with clean water and fresh toiletries, was a luxury that he would never take for granted again.
And it was nice to spend some time alone. He enjoyed Tenna's company, but this sudden fixation upon the past had left Spamton with a bitter taste in his mouth. The salesman's relationship with the past was a much more complex one. He did harbour nostalgia for the old days, of course, and would always answer “1997” if anyone asked him what his favourite year was. But equally, the past served as a painful reminder of everything that Spamton had lost. He no longer had his status as a BIG SHOT, but worse than that... he had been dragged through hell, and was barely able to even recognise himself any more.
The past was something of a spectre that haunted Spamton, rather than something that he could fully revel in and enjoy thinking about like he wanted to. He had spent years plagued by nightmares which were continuing even now, forced to relive the manifold horrors that he had endured. Nightmares of his body warping and twisting, crying out in never-ending pain as he lost control of himself. Nightmares of disturbing phone calls, desperately screaming Tenna's name into the receiver and begging for help; only to awaken with his hand held next to his head, gripping onto nothing, heeding the call of a phone that went silent many years earlier.
Spamton picked up the shampoo bottle, squeezing some into his hands and carefully massaging his scalp in such a way that his hair didn't catch in his joints – a problem that he certainly didn't have in the past, but one that he had learned to adapt to over time.
As he rinsed his hair, he began to think of exactly how to explain his feelings about everything to Tenna...
* * *
Once he was clean and dry, Spamton made his way back into the accommodation's main room. Walking past the couch, his eyes were suddenly drawn towards the photograph album that Tenna had left sitting there. He paused, feeling himself tensing up. With gritted teeth and a feeling of dread sitting heavily in his stomach, he slowly shuffled towards the album; feeling drawn to it somehow, despite his instinctive reluctance to look at it. Hands shaking slightly, he lifted the album up and opened it onto a random page.
And it was there that he saw himself staring back at him, a huge grin plastered across his past self's face. A drink in his hand and not a care in the world. Spamton moved one of his hands onto the photograph, gently brushing his fingertips against the image of his old face. His eyes were drawn to his own hand now, his real hand, the hand that was now ball-jointed and made of plastic and...
He dropped the album onto the floor, feeling himself begin to glitch as his emotions ran wild. Before he had time to properly process anything, he heard the front door open abruptly and rushed to compose himself.
“OH, YOU're [[Back Again]] ALREADY?” He said as calmly as he could.
Tenna was beaming, clutching a shopping bag in his hands.
“Spamton, I... I've got something for you!” the television announced, quickly making his way across the room. Spamton looked at him with interest.
“YOU SHOULDN;T H4VE!!”
The CRT placed the bag down on the couch next to Spamton, slowly put his hands inside... and lifted out a small, red jacket. A very familiar small, red jacket. A small, red jacket that looked extremely similar to the one that Spamton used to wear back in the old days.
Spamton looked horrified now, his enthusiasm melting away instantaneously. He took a step back from Tenna, his eyes fixed firmly upon the jacket.
“ARE YOU [$!$$]ING SERIOUS?!” he cried, his every syllable dripping with disappointment. He wanted to stay calm, he wanted to explain everything to Tenna properly, but this had completely caught him off-guard.
“DIDN;T YOU [Click here to Listen!] TO ME? I SAID MY [Business-wear on sale now!] IS FINE! AND WHY IS IT [[COLOUR: RED]]?!”
“Spamton, I-”
“I;M N0T THE SAmE [PERS0N] ANY<mORE!” Spamton yelled, glitching slightly with each word as his anger finally boiled over, “[[WHY]] CAN'T YOU [UNDERSTAND] THA T?!”
“Spammy, I know, b-but...” Tenna frantically spluttered, taken aback by the salesman's explosive reaction.
“BUT [[NOTHiNG]]!” Spamton shouted, his face turning red with rage, “THIS IS WHO [I am ] NOW!! THIS IS WHO I'LL [Always and ForEver] BE!” He gestured at himself before continuing, “YOU'RE [[Living in the past]], TENNA!! YOU'RE LI<VING IN THE PAST INSTEAD OF [Moving On Up] LIKE I'VE [H4D] TO!!!”
“Please, Spamton, I-”
“I CAN'T [Go Back], WE CAN'T [Go Back], IT'S NOT... IT'S not... it's not...”
Spamton's words trailed off into an awkward silence, which was only broken when he took a huge and rattling breath in a desperate attempt to steady himself. This was not how he had wanted this conversation to go, but he was struggling to keep a lid on the hurt and anger that was now consuming him. Tenna looked completely crestfallen, clutching the jacket to his chest as though his life depended upon it.
“I... I just thought it'd be nice,” Tenna murmured, his voice beginning to crack, “You were on your own for so long, and you had to live with so little... I thought you'd like it.”
With a sigh, the CRT flopped onto the couch, still holding on tightly to the little red jacket. Spamton couldn't help but notice that his partner had begun to shrink slightly. Not taking his eyes off Tenna, he marched closer to the couch, standing in front of it so that his gaze could perfectly meet that of his partner.
“[Cathode]...” he said, a little more calmly now as his composure began to gradually return, “I'M [[not the same]] PERSON THAT YOU MET ALL THOSE [years & years] AGO. I CAN'T EVER BE TH4T [Missing Person] AGAIN. I NEED YOU TO [accept all] THAT. I NEED Y OU TO [[SEE ME]] AS I AM [Now ], NOT AS THE PERSON I [[USeD]] TO BE.”
“I do, Spammy! I do...” Tenna replied earnestly.
“THEN... [Show Me]. PLEASE,” Spamton swiftly said in reply, “YOU ALWAYS HAVE YOUR [cathode screen] IN THOSE DAMN [[photograph collections]]. YOU... YOU BARELY EVEN [L@@K] AT M3.”
Tenna paused for a moment, reflecting carefully upon his partner's words as the realisation began to sink in. Perhaps he was too engrossed in all of his old memories. Perhaps he was so busy looking at how his life used to be, that he hadn't truly taken the time to noticed the person who was standing right in front of him.
The person who he had spent countless years yearning for, the person who he had wanted back more than anything else in the whole world. The person who he would have given anything to see again.
“Oh God, Spamton, I... I'm so sorry,” Tenna said, putting the jacket onto the arm of the couch. He reached out and gently took Spamton's hands into his own.
“I didn't... I didn't realise that was why you were upset, and I REALLY didn't mean to make you feel that way. I'm really sorry. I just wish you'd told me about this sooner! I couldn't understand why you've been distancing yourself from me recently. Please, just... talk to me next time.”
Spamton began to think that he'd been a bit too harsh on Tenna again. Perhaps he really did mean well, after all. Maybe this was Tenna's way of showing that he really does care, regardless of how misguided it might have been.
“SORRY, I... I WANTED TO TELL Y0U [all about it!], BUT The JACKET WAS A [huge shock] AND I...” he paused for a moment, trying to choose his words carefully, “IT'S ALWAYS. DIFFICULT. TO EXPLAIN THINGS. PROPERLY,” he continued, temporarily suppressing his speech interruptions to the best of his ability, “ESPECIALLY. WITH. ALL THE [top 10 quotes] AND [soundbite archives].”
This was not the only reason why Spamton struggled to open up to Tenna, but it definitely didn't help matters – especially when his glitches and speech quirks were exacerbated when he was upset. If he had been given more adequate time to prepare for this conversation, without the sudden shock of being presented with a red jacket, then perhaps it would have gone more smoothly from the start. He had been mulling over what he wanted to say, but his temper had gotten the better of him.
“I understand, Spammy,” Tenna replied with a warm smile, “And I do see you. I really do, even if you don't realise it. And... I still like what I see. Despite it all, deep down, it's still YOU. The same YOU that I fell in love with all those years ago. Nothing can ever change that.”
Spamton felt his eyes begin to well up. At a loss for words for once, he silently nodded in reply.
“I know that you've been through SO much, and I can't even begin to imagine how that must feel. But, it's just... isn't it NICE to look back sometimes, in spite of everything? To relive those old memories? They were the best times, Spamton, the very best times.”
“THEY WERE...” Spamton sighed, gently pulling his hands free before walking closer to the couch and hoisting himself onto it, “BUT [[IT;S OVER]]. AND LOOKING BACK ON [[It ]]... SOMETIMES, IT HURTS. IT REALLY HURTS. SO MUCH HAS HAPPENED [to: Me]. EVEN IF [[deep down, it's still]] ME. IT HURTS TO [see it Here]. IT HURTS TO [just Think about it]. BUT I CAN'T [[CHANGE]] IT. THIS IS WHO I AM NOW, AND [you & i] HAVE TO [deal] WITH IT.”
Tenna put his hand on Spamton's back, rubbing it gently. He knew that no words he could muster would even begin to absolve his partner of any of his pain. Instead, he comforted the salesman gently; giving him space to speak, to begin letting his feelings out.
“BACK THEN, I WAS A [[BIG SHOT]]!” Spamton continued, “YOU WERE A [Lord of Screens] OF YOUR WORLD! AND NOW, WE;RE...”
Spamton looked down at himself before directing his gaze to Tenna.
“But that's not the ONLY reason why they were the best times,” the CRT said softly, “They weren't the best times because we were BIG – they were the best times because we had each other! We were TOGETHER, and we were happy! Everything felt amazing back then. I know we can't go back, no matter how much I want to. I know that, but we'll always have the memories, right?”
Spamton nodded, slowly processing his own thoughts on the situation. He definitely understood where Tenna was coming from with all of this, but...
“WE [DON'T NEED] TO JUST [[Live in]] THE PAST,” he said, “LIKE YOU SAID, [We were TOGETHER, and we were happy!]. BUT WE'RE [Together Forever] AGAIN NOW!”
“We are. You're right...” Tenna responded, feeling himself gradually come around to a different way of thinking, feeling a pang of guilt while glancing down at the photograph album that was still lying on the floor. He lifted it up and considered it for a moment. “I can't keep doing this. I'll box them up and put them away. I won't look at them all the time any more... just SOMETIMES, like I used to. And if you ever DO feel like you want to see them, just let me know, okay? But you don't have to, if you're not comfortable with them. I won't force you to look at them, I would never want to upset you like that. Just take it at your own pace.”
“THANK YOU,” Spamton said with a smile, “AND [I'M SORRY] IF I WAS TOO [[Harsh]] EARLIER. IT'S JUST... [Difficulty: ] TO [readjust] TO EVERYTHING. BEING [[All By Myself]] FOR SO LONG, IT... IT...”
The puppet hastily closed his mouth with a loud clack, refusing to elaborate any further. There was still so much that he desperately needed to unpack, but this wasn't the time for it. When he was ready, he would fully open up to Tenna; but he wanted to keep his guard up just a little for now. It was hard to fully trust again, and it was even harder to talk freely about his experiences – but he hoped that, with time, things would start to get easier.
“It's okay, Spammy,” Tenna replied. He understood and didn't want to push Spamton to talk if he wasn't ready to do so. There were things that Tenna really needed to speak about too – not least of all, the aftermath of his encounter with the Roaring Knight – but fully quantifying and expressing these complicated feelings was a difficult process.
Perhaps SOME things really are best left in the past, after all...
Without wanting to dwell on these thoughts for too long, he swiftly put the photo album down and picked up the red jacket from the arm of the couch. “I'll, uh... I'll get rid of this later, too. It won't take me long, I'll go and return it to where I bought it from.”
“GOOD IDEA,” Spamton answered. With a smile, he slowly leaned into Tenna; who wrapped his arms lovingly around the salesman in response. A welcomed embrace, which Spamton was quick to reciprocate. The salesman's face began to turn red again – not from anger this time, but instead because of Tenna planting a little kiss on his cheek.
* * *
Later that day Tenna went back out to return the jacket. True to his word, he didn't take long at all; but, to Spamton's surprise, the CRT was holding another small shopping bag in his hands when he walked back through the door.
“Don't worry, I've not brought it back with me!” Tenna quickly announced, keenly aware of how closely Spamton was watching him, “It's just... well...”
Tenna reached into the bag and produced another little jacket. Only this time, it wasn't red...
“I know you said that your jacket is okay! I know, but... do you think that this one is more your style?”
Spamton couldn't help but laugh in spite of himself. The jacket was almost identical to the one he was wearing now, even down to the colour. Except this one was brand new, without a loose thread or a hole in sight.
“Oh no, don't you like it?” Tenna queried frantically, “I can-”
“NO, I DO [[LIKE IT]],” Spamton interjected, walking closer to Tenna, “IT'S. IT'S [Perfection!]!”
The puppet slowly slipped off his old jacket, reaching out his arms for the new one. Tenna handed it over, watching with a huge smile as Spamton tried it on. It was a perfect fit.
“THANK YOU...” Spamton said happily, “I RE4LLY APPRECIATE IT.”
“You're welcome, Spammy!” Tenna replied with glee, “It looks great, and I'm SO glad that you like it!” After a beat, he reached his hand inside the pocket of his tailcoat, “I, uh... I have something else here, too...”
Tenna held out his hand, revealing a small camera resting in his palm.
“Maybe we can... start to make some new memories?” he asked cautiously, watching for Spamton's reaction.
Spamton considered this for a moment. This truly felt like a turning point, with his brand new jacket as a symbol of this fresh start. He dared to hope that, with Tenna's help, he could finally begin to slowly make peace with everything that had happened. Perhaps, in the future, he could even begin to feel more comfortable with himself. It had always been too easy to put up the big, loud and brash persona of Spamton G Spamton, the confident salesman – and much harder to let his more vulnerable side come to the surface, complete with all the insecurities and trauma that he was carrying. It would be a very long and difficult road, of that he was certain; but it was not a road that he had to travel on alone. Instead, he would take the journey to recovery hand-in-hand with his beloved [CRT].
“THAT SOUNDS [good idea!] TO ME!” he answered with a grin. Tenna smiled in reply, crouching down to the same height as the salesman.
“Ready?” he asked excitedly, holding the camera out in front of them both, “Three, two, one...”
Spamton smiled awkwardly as Tenna took the photograph. The CRT was positively beaming, a flower blooming on the end of his nose, and his arm tightly around his beloved partner. In spite of how much Tenna hated change, and after how much he had resisted the march of time for so long, he was finally beginning to look forward rather than back. He was excited about his future with Spamton and about all of the new memories that the pair could begin to make together. He would always be nostalgic for the past, nothing would ever change that, but he was beginning to think that he no longer needed to cling onto it quite so tightly. There was only one thing that he wanted to cling onto, if he was honest with himself... and it was his rekindled relationship with the person who was standing at his side.