He laid in a bare, new garbage bin. His glasses-covered eyes stared up, unfocused and dazed. The lid was opened. Above him was a navy blue sky, green lines criss-crossing to make squares. No stars, no moon. A building to his right shadowed where he was. He couldn’t see any posters covering the walls. Instead, there was empty space. That was good. There shouldn’t be anything covering the walls. Not if he somehow succeeded. It looked like he did. He wasn’t sure why this bin was open. He decided to himself that he didn’t care. There were more important things.
Spamton sat up, his head spinning wildly as if he were in one of those tea-cup rides. Nausea filled him for a moment. Disorder cluttered his mind. He couldn’t remember how he got here. Oh, he very well knew why he was here. But the how escaped him like a bad drug trip. What happened? What could he remember? Sorting through his thoughts sometimes helped when they bounced around.
He had flown. Big. Better than ever. Nothing could stop him. No, no, he had been held up by green wires. They tangled around his neck, his wrists, ankles, knees, wings, everywhere they were everywhere he couldn’t escape he couldn’t he wasn’t big enough— No. That wasn’t true right now. Everything was a bit off scale, as though smaller than he was used to. But it wasn’t tiny. There were no wires clinging to him anymore. No more than there should be. Wings didn’t hang from his back, either. He had his old, threadbare clothes instead of metal robes. Strangely they didn't seem quite the right size. The cuffs of his sleeves and pant legs exposed the cables controlling his arms, and his fake legs. It was as if they shrunk a few inches. Or… He was taller than before? That didn’t make sense. They still fit well enough for him either way.
He had… Had a laser gun cannon hand thing? It had been the same colours as his glasses. It shot lasers and pipis, of course. He remembered that. Which meant he used it. He was a bit puzzled for a moment. On what? Something blue, something red. Oh, yes. He was glad he decided to think things through. He remembered that human kid, that teenager lightner with the red SOUL. They had been only a bit taller than him, until he was big enough to feel his fingertips graze Heaven. Then he towered over them. Even broken his wings had been longer than their entire body, and even those wings were smaller than his own height had been. He had aimed his laser gun right at them, laughter ringing through the empty basement.
That hadn’t been how they had died, he recalled. No, he remembered they had friends who had come to try to help them. They all tried so very hard. Almost an awe inspiring sight. But NEO— Yes, yes that was right. He remembered now what it was that made Heaven that much closer— NEO never loses. Especially not to three kids . Teens, sure. But still only children. That fluffy one was first down, then went the purple lizard. The human, Kris, had been surprisingly resilient for such a pipsqueak. He almost felt bad for what he was to do. Alas! He had to. He made a deal, and they had too. They might not have read the fine print. Neither had he. A deal’s a deal, though. A human SOUL for freedom. He just hadn’t said who’s freedom.
Spamton felt more oriented now. The nausea had fled him not too long into his thoughts. His arms shot up, grabbing the trash bin’s walls to pull himself up. His legs slipped. It took a few tries to get himself standing steady and out of the bin. Whoof, whatever he did to get here drained what little energy and magic he had left. He didn’t want to sleep just yet, though. He didn’t know the date. He very well couldn’t sleep through the whole reason he came here! A ticklish, giddy feeling forced delirious laughter out of his mouth. It jumped pitches like a broken radio. It was only now hitting him what everything meant.
1997. It had been such a good year. The year he got that call, the year he got rich. The year where everything changed forever, for better and worse. He thought this would be much easier. As it turned out, time travel didn’t let him just replace his past self and not answer the phone. Now, because of that? Now he had to approach his past and stop him. This would be both easier and harder. Easier, as he doubted he could successfully impersonate his 21 year old self. He changed too much for that. Harder, because as naive as he used to be… The enticement of the caller might be too much to turn away. He wasn’t sure.
He thanked Heaven that [Mike] only told him to acquire a lightner SOUL, not give them one.
The best place to look would be where he grew up. That’s exactly where he started walking towards. It was where he always stayed, if he wasn’t trying to advertise or meeting at the Cyber Grill. He only hoped he caught his past self alone. Binx would be a huge bother. His eldest brother was a relaxed person, but he really didn’t want to talk to him or any of his siblings.
At least it wasn’t Pascal who he was risking meeting. They had been the first to leave the family home for their own place. It was almost funny, too. They all thought that Pascal would be the one to stick around. Oakley and Yael had taken that as a good sign for them to split off as well. It left Binx and Spam alone in their way too big home. Spamton never had enough money or reason to leave, and it was Binx who owned the home. Binx clearly hadn’t minded Spamton sticking around. He never told Spam off. It was both fortunate and unfortunate that Spamton did move away. He wondered how Binx was doing. Then he reminded himself that it didn’t matter anymore.
The route to his old home wasn’t hard to find. It wasn’t much of a walk, but also not that close to where he had woken up. It wouldn’t do, to be too close. Yet it was close enough. Close enough that in the past he had approached the house and stood in the shadows just a bit away. Imagined a heartfelt reunion filled with laughter and tears. Binx would hug him and demand they find the others to go to Cyber Grill and catch up. Pascal would see him, reprimand him on what he was wearing and Oakley would agree with more worry. They’d laugh and Yael would tell them off for being rude. Couldn’t they see he clearly wasn’t doing well? Of course he wasn’t wearing good clothes. Yael would offer help, and Spamton would finally agree. Binx would offer somewhere to stay. Then Pascal would apologise and he would apologise back. There would be sobbing, mostly from himself he knew. Everything would be forgiven. Everything would be better.
He was reminded of when he was 15, tasting a coffee with the first money he’d ever made. Oakley had laughed when he sputtered it out. She had warned him of the bitterness and he ignored it. He missed that. He missed when he was only 9, watching movies with everyone in the living room. The real world didn’t exist. There was only then, popcorn, and his older siblings. They would talk meaningless words and he would announce his desire to help in sales, to be just like Binx and Yael. To then be just like Oakley, just like Pascal. He grew older, and was less assured by the idea. It was 1995, and he would say he’d be a Big Shot. Just like them . They all laughed and told him that it was alright. He was 19. There was so much life ahead of him. He didn’t need to worry. They would always be there to help him, even if he decided to do something else. He was only 23 when apparently family meant nothing if he was too successful.
How naive. He really should have known better.
How long had he been standing in front of this door? Standing with a hand held high, ready to knock like so many times before? Except it wasn’t like before. He couldn’t knock and expect a reunion. Couldn’t watch the door open to reveal Binx. Couldn’t run into his arms and cry out all his worries, cry about how hungry he was or how much he missed him. Spilling apologies and begging to come back home, please it’s so cold, he’s sorry, he didn’t mean to hit Pascal it was a mistake please— It was the past. It was the past. It was the past and that didn’t happen yet. They hadn’t separated and no one was any the wiser of the terrible future. His past self was still home, probably thinking of painting and ways to get better at being a salesperson. Still here and unaware of what he would lose, if Spamton didn’t just knock on the damn door! Why wasn’t he knocking? Why could he never just knock? Did he want to live in the goddamn garbage forever?! Sure, what was another several years doing that! It’s not as if the past 15 years were that terrible and that he was horribly famished or anything?! Knock, already! Knock!! Knock!!! [[knock, knock, knock knock already—]]!!!!!!
The door opened. He hadn’t moved a muscle. It didn’t swing open as if whoever was going to tell him off for standing on their porch. He very much doubted either of them had noticed he was even there. But now… Now someone would. Someone would see him looking quite a sight. After all, his clothes were patchwork, and his left pant leg was strings away from falling off. He couldn’t find any more stitching thread that was thrown away and certainly couldn’t afford it. Plus the inexplicably shortened sleeves and pants clearly showing his fake limbs. His lower jaw wasn’t even his original, just as fake as his fingers. He moved his arms to hold his hands together in front of him, shaking in his spot.
As luck would have it, the one opening the door was none other than himself. His past self. Whole, fluffy, completely white other than clothing, healthy addison. His past at least noticed him so they didn’t accidentally stab one another with their noses. The two stared at each other. One with an expression filled with manic excitement and hope, the other with puzzlement and uncertainty.
“HEY-HE Y HEY!!!” Spamton stuttered out, clacking his teeth a few times. This was awkward. He didn’t plan any farther than ‘stop the phone call’. “[[Lost Control Of Your Life]]??!”
Ah, by that shift in expression more towards puzzlement… He must have made a mistake. Maybe it was the words his tic threw out. He thought they were good enough. He opened his mouth to try again but was interrupted by the younger Spam, “...No Solicitors.”
“NO! No NO!” Spamton repeated a few times. Was that lady luck coming by with a baseball bat for his head? Because it seemed the world wanted everything to go wrong. Just as he tried to fix the situation, that awful and uncontrollable giddy feeling flitted through him. Without any prompt his mouth opened and he started to laugh. His eyelid twitched. Talking wasn’t going to go well now that he did that. Idea B, then. Quicker than little Spam could react, Spamton threw out his hands and forced them to clamp tight around Spam’s black sweater. There wouldn’t be any running away. Not before he could get his words out. “YOU NEED. TO LISTEN. TO ME. Y0U N33D TO THROW AW4Y [Telephone Marketing Strategies]. YOU CAN’T ANSWER [Mike]!!”
“Wha-What? Who are you?!”
Oh, oops. He’s frightened his little self. He could see it. The way Spam tried to jerk away, his pupils shrinking to pinpricks and his lips raising as if he wanted to bare his teeth to scare Spamton away. He had always been such a sheltered, optimistic person growing up. So easily scared… Maybe this is exactly what he needed. A good spook. He’d get convinced enough and then everything would be fine. Everything would… Would… What would it be? What was he supposed to do, when he’d gotten past himself to not answer the phone?
“YOU DON;T WANT TO LIVE IN A [[Goddamn Garbage Can]] DO YOU?!” He decidedly ignored that last trail of thought. He didn’t want to think about it yet. A quick glitch ran through him, distorting his appearance for only a moment. “NO PHONES NO [Deal] NO [Mike]!!!”
Time travel was always such an uncertain topic. One of those things, where until you did it you had no idea what it would be like. There were ideas and theories of course. But they were only that. Ideas. Clearly he could touch his past self without any issues besides normal interactive issues. This entire conversation should have changed his own life and memories, but it didn’t. How was he supposed to know if he succeeded? If he fixed everything? Did his every action mean nothing..?
He knew he was having another breakdown, and right in front of his young self. The previous glitch started to turn into a full disaster, and he was shaking. Twitching. This was turning into a shitshow in his mind, and barely anything had happened. So he threw his head high to the Heavens and stopped trying to keep himself from laughing. It was just as chaotic and insane as the situation felt to him. All the while, held tightly in his grasp, his past self was trying to yank himself out of Spamton’s hold. He was just a stranger to little Spam, of course. He didn’t know. He couldn’t know. He would know.
“Le-Let me go! I don’t know who you are or wha— or— or whatever you’re talking about!” He could only guess what Spam thought he was. Maybe he thought he was a virus filled addison looking to spread his curse to other poor souls. It was very rare. He recalled being told about them but being lucky enough then and now to not ever experience it. Or, perhaps, he saw someone who just fell off the deep end and happened to pick him as a person to vent at. Maybe Spam didn’t think any of that. Who knew what the little white addison thought of the potentially inevitable future? It was terrifying all the same.
“Binx!! Binx help!”
Spamton immediately quieted his laughter. He dropped his head, static filled glasses gazing at the past. When Spam kept calling for their eldest brother, a sharp realisation hit Spamton. He had hoped Spam was alone. He was wrong.
“NO [[Stop]] STOP IT” Spamton let a hand frantically cover young Spam’s mouth instead of holding him still. This wasn’t working at all either. He wasn’t sure what he had expected. Telling his little self to never answer a phone call again and then go home? Everything being fine and dandy? That was equally as unrealistic as his earlier imagination of a family reunion. Nothing in life was simple. Every action let blood bleed. “YOU’RE [Killing] M E PL3ASE STOP [Self Inflicted Bodily Harm] SCREAMING.”
His words felt like irony when a flat pop-up ad slammed him in the face. He hit the ground with a loud censored curse word. He wished he could actually curse heavily, because that hurt like a bitch . Spamton could feel his left forearm trying to pop off from the force, held only by the straps on his shoulder keeping his arms mostly on. His face hurt so damn much. Little Spam got lucky that his grip relied on the bend of his elbows. Instead of getting dragged forward with him, Spam instead fell back on his bottom from trying to yank away. At least the hit stopped his glitching for now. Spamton looked up, shifting from his side to his back. His glasses were crooked and the world was an awful part clear, partial blur, half far too bright, and kind of pink and yellow. It was disorienting but he could make out the two above him.
“AH.” He started flatly, “[[Have You Or A Loved One Experienced Physical Abuse? You May Be Entitled To Financial Compensation Today!]]”
“Binx!” His past self held such a high amount of relief in his voice. Spamton remembered feeling like that once. Helped by his brother, Spam smiled bright at Binx. “Thank above you got here.”
“Of course. I heard you all the way in the kitchen!” The blue addison showed clear worry for the younger and hot rage for the older. Spamton watched Binx hold Spam’s hands and check him for any injuries. He wondered if his own Binx would have done that if he ever came back. The look turned over to himself, the furrowed eyebrows shifting less worry and dropping so fast to a heated glare. It felt almost exaggerated. Binx’s head tilted slightly with a barely noticeable twitch in his expression. Spamton, however, noticed it. He could guess. That really should have knocked him completely unconscious. It was one of the strongest attacks their eldest brother had. Spamton could only guess why he hadn’t. One or two things. Things he was starting to figure out now.
Though he was somehow taller than his past self— enough to poke out Spam’s eye with just his nose— Binx was still taller than him. His past self’s eye level was about middle chest level. Now he could actually see Binx’s shoulders if he stood up. The height would almost be intimidating from his fallen standpoint. However. That had been one of Binx’s strongest attacks. Spamton barely felt worse for wear, no more than when he woke up. It could certainly confirm a suspicion he had. And cause a dangerous confidence to bud within him, making his face pull into a wider grin. The power of [NEO] was still within him. The SOUL he had from Kris helped some as well. He was filled with so much power and magic, buzzing at his fingertips. It was unfortunate that he was too tired to use any of it. Not that he would use it against Binx.
Using his better arm, he pushed himself up to sit up. His unhidden one-of-a-kind mismatched eyes stared at Binx’s glare. Hmm… Though the hit didn’t knock him out or completely take off his arm, his jaw was disconnected from his mouth. That was probably why it still hurt so much. “YYYYOU STILL HH1T LIKE [[Discounted Supply Truck]].”
With his right arm, he forced his jaw back into place with a pained grunt. Clattering his teeth a few times, he adjusted his loosened arm back into place. “LISTEN. I DIDN’T MAKE IT [Big] JUST TO [Trip And Die] AT THE [[Finish Line]], [Esteemed Customer(s)]!! I JUST NEED THAT LITTLE [Slime]” He swung his arm to aggressively point at his past self, “TO NOT PICK UP THE [Ring Ring]!! I CAN’’T LET THAT HAPPEN! N OT AFTER [Hard Work and Sacrifices] WERE”
His sentence cut off and he didn’t continue that train of thought. His breath was heavy, and stuttered. Being able to tank a hit like that meant nothing with such low magic, and such a ravenous hunger clawing within him. He felt like absolute garbage, as much as he looked it. He refused to collapse asleep just yet, though. No. Not yet. That tickling giddy forced a chuckle out of him and he glitched slightly. The other addisons were watching him as much as he was watching them. He fixed the glasses on his nose. Then Spamton waggled his hands dramatically, “WAIT! HEAR THOSE [Bells]??? I WILL GIVE Y OU A DEAL!! IF YOU LET M E BREAK THE PHONE I WILL GIVE [Free Kromer]. [[PleasePlease Let Me Fix Things]].”
“Who are you?” Binx asked. Ah, of course! He had forgotten to introduce himself. Why, of course they didn’t trust him barring the whole manhandling young Spam thing. He just needed to make it very, very clear who he was.
“I’M EV3RY BUDDY 'S FAVOURITE [[Number 1 Rated Salesman1997]]! SPAMT — SPAMTON G. SPAMTON!!” Spamton answered with loud gusto. He forced himself to stand and throw his hands up to make it even more dramatic. Then he went back to pointing at Spam, “I’MMM YOUR FUTURE! BUT I. BUT I. BUT I. CAME BACK TO STOP THIS [2 For one Specil]!!!! LOOK AT [Me] AND ASK YOURSELF... DO YOU REALLY [[Want To Look Just Like Me]]?!”
Young Spam opened his mouth but Spamton quickly interrupted him, unwilling to hear what Spam would have said, “NO. YOU DON;T. TRUST ME [Worst Deal Of The Century]!”
“Hold up. Back up.” Binx’s words stopped Spamton from carrying on to a rant on how awful it was to be him. “What happened to you?”
“Yeah. Yeah!” Spam got up from the ground, helped by his brother. He emphasised his next words, “If you’re really me, how’d you end up like… This .”
“He’s not you, Spam. Don’t be ridiculous. That’s impossible.”
“HEY!! I’M RIGHT [On Standby] YOU KNOW. BUT I GUESS I COULD SAY! AAFTER ALL IF AN YTHING [Wibbly Wobbly Timey Wimey] WAS GOING TO HAPPEN IT WOULD’VE!” He was going to talk anyway. If there was anything that stayed pretty consistent, it was how much he loved to talk.
“I USE TO BE NOTHING BUT THE E_MAIL GUY! THEN I GOT A CALL ONE DAY.” He waved his arms about and twitched, “THE [Voice On The Other Side] OFFERED ME [[Great Deals For Only $4.99!]] I [Becomed] A BIG SHOT. THE BIGGEST!!! I HAD MY FAC E ON BILLBOARDS AND SOLD [Sweet, sweet] CARS AND THINGS!! I USE TO LIVE IN QUEEN’S MANSION. 1997 WAS MY [Favourites That You’ve Come To Expect] YEAR!”
“What?!” This time it was Spam stopping him from rambling. “What? Are you serious? That’s this year!”
“I HOP3D [Thought That Was The Case]!! S4Y, WHAT’S THE MONTH ANYW AY?”
“January.”
“IT’S JANUARY?” Spamton repeated, freezing completely. The lenses on his glasses started to fuzz. “…January….”
The world seemed to pause with him, the noise of static filling it. It was only in his head, though, as the world carried on and two brothers seemed bothered by the noise his glasses made. As quick as it came, the static stopped and Spamton jerked back like a clockwork robot restarting, “KID YOURE [Killing] ME IT’’S ALREADY JANUARY?? THATS WHEN I GOT THE [Ring Ring]! YOU CAN’T. ANSWER IT. EVER. THE [Price Is Right] TOO HIGH!”
His head felt heavy and his feet swayed under him. It wasn’t his usual inability to stand still that was causing it though. That didn’t make the universe sway with him as if on a dying spinning top toy. Strange. That wasn’t really normal for him…
“IT TOOK ME 24 YEARS JUST TO GET IT! BUT IT ONLY TOOK TW0 FOR THE [Kromer] AND [Unforgettable Deals] TO RU N OUT!” He held up his hands in a claw fashion and gritted his teeth, “I LIVE IN A GODDAMN GARBAGE CAN!! I PHYSICALLY C4NNN’T GET A JOB. HAVE YOU SEEN MY HANDS. HAEAHAEAHAEAHAEAH! I DON’T HAVE ANY HANDS!!! [[Where Are My Hands? Help! Please, It Hurts!!]]”
The last vocal tic sounded exactly like young Spam. Without any extreme yelling or buzz behind it. It was also something that couldn’t be a fake recording. Spam had never said anything like that. Yet. It was jarring. So too was Spamton’s swaying turning into a full on collapse. A Windows XP shutdown noise left his mouth. Everything blurred and turned to complete blackness.
