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Things had been messy after Mike had given Spamton that vocal glitch. Mike had left for a while, most likely sick of Spamton’s annoying and eccentric personality, leaving Spamton in the hospital. Glitches were dangerous if left untreated. They were related to mental health, so if that got bad, the glitch got bad as well. If it got too bad… he could become a corrupted program. But his brothers were there for him. They helped him cope with his new unusual voice and stares (hell, he already had enough staring and prejudice because of his skin!), and paid for therapy to get his glitching to calm down. Soon enough, he could almost speak like a normal program.
Then Mike called back. Spamton had learned that Mike had been busy helping other clients, but was back to make a new deal with Spamton. And oh boy, what a deal it was.
He was famous now, a big shot, everyone knew his name! Darkners, lightners, creatures he didn’t even know the names of! All of them wanted to buy his cars at his business! Lines and lines of people stood outside his shop, wanting one of his cars. The sudden craze over Big Shot Autos had had Spamton working non-stop all week, which messed with his voice a bit. His glitching was a little bad, but nothing he couldn’t handle.
He got out of bed, prepared for a huge line of people to be waiting outside his shop. Spamton put on his glasses and a brand new, shiny, red suit. He had bought it from one of the top fashion brands, Nubert’s, along with a golden tie. He had to look his best for the people.
He also had to sound his best for the people. Which was why he wasn’t talking that way. Saying that his glitching was a little bad might’ve been an understatement… It was really bad. They were the worst they had ever been, even worse than when he first got them. At least then, they actually made sense. Now it was just a bunch of nonsense.
It was probably because of the stress and all the yelling he had to do. If his brothers heard him like this, they would freak out. It hurt to repress his glitching, but it was better than the pity and shame he got from his brothers. They would send him back to therapy where there were other freaks just like him, and right after Spamton had started learning to control them, too!
Spamton walked down to the kitchen, surprised to see that only Snippets, the blue Addison and the second youngest, was there. He wanted to ask why he wasn’t at work, but didn’t want to reveal that his glitch was back in full force. Instead he just grabbed a CD bagel to eat on the go. Snippets had been having a tough time getting customers lately and his shop was on the verge of shutting down. He kept refusing any help from Spamton and the other brothers, though.
Being the baby of the family, even though Spamton was actually the youngest, this raised a lot of concern from the other brothers. Snippets was usually so happy and bubbly, and very kind. He had started to grow a bit if an attitude, and sadder and angrier lately.
Banner, the orange and oldest Addison, had tried time and time again to support Snippets, but nothing worked. Spamton knew that feeling. When he first started selling things, nobody bought them. His store had shut down within the first couple weeks. His brothers were there for him all the while, but their pity didn’t help in the slightest.
Clicktin, the yellow Addison and his favorite brother, was one of the only ones who didn’t make Spamton feel embarrassed for being so different. Clicktin was carefree and cool. Spamton’s skin and voice were that of a corrupted program, even though he wasn’t. He was just born that way.
Frequency, the bubblegum pink Addison, however, was so loud about it. Frequency was very dramatic and exaggerated all his stories. He was also a bit if a dork. Frequency was very proud of Spamton. Of course, Spamton wanted to be proud of who he was too, but… He just couldn’t.
“Hi, Spam.” Snippets… smiled(?) from across the table. Spamton couldn’t tell. It looked like he was trying to smile, but at the same time was in severe anguish. Huh.
Spamton waved back, earning him a grumble.
“You’re not even going to talk to me?” Snippets said, poison hidden behind his voice. Spamton knew Snippets was probably just in a bad mood, as he had been lately. Spamton continued walking towards the door before pausing. He didn’t want to talk, but he also didn’t want to upset Snippets.
Spamton hesitated before sputtering out a static-y cough, hacking and choking out onto the floor. Snippets gasped at the white Addison, who stood up again like nothing had happened. Spamton’s throat felt clear again, but he knew it wouldn’t last for long.
“By3,” he told a spooked Snippets, before exiting the house.
It took a lot of force and energy to cough out the advertisements from his voice, only for them to come back a second later. It seemed pointless, but it actually helped sometimes. Like it had just now! Spamton got into his brand new car. It was his own design, what he called a Cungadero. It was a scarlet red vehicle, a bolt of lightning painted down the side. It truly was a beauty.
A few minutes later he arrived at his shop. A long trail of people were already lined up at the door, which was expected. Spamton had hired two plugboys, Mini and Micro, to help him with customer service. They seemed to have just gotten out of their cars, pulling out the keys to the shop. Spamton was happy that he hired them, otherwise he would’ve been drowning in the sea of people. As he stepped out of his Cungadero, darkners and lightners screamed.
With all his ads, he was a bit of a celebrity. Not everyone liked him, but everybody knew him. The street his shop was on got a lot of traffic and clicks, and that was what mattered.
“HEY!1!! I’M [Sorry, this is not for sale.]” He shooed the fans away and ran inside his store. Now that he had all this money, he had spent it buying other workers. While Mini and Micro worked at customer service, Spamton had hired some werewires to build more cars. Now all Spamton had to do was what he was good at, advertising. That was why his voice had gone bad again. Spamton had been yelling and advertising all day for the past four weeks, which had begun to take a toll on him.
Spamton entered Big Shot Autos, heading over to the break room. This was where his employees went for their lunch breaks. The room contained a table, some chairs, and a water dispenser. Spamton quickly finished his bagel from earlier and pulled out a cup. He could really use some water. His throat was sore. He poured water into the cup before chugging it down, his throat feeling the slightest bit better. It still ached, but at least it ached somewhat less.
He was about to leave when he heard a ringing. It was Mike! Mike first, advertising later. He rushed to the source of the sound, finding the dial phone sitting on the center of the table.
How did the phone get here?
I don’t know. Did I place this here? Do I have memory problems? It doesn’t matter. It’s Mike.
He picked it up, listening carefully for the familiar voice. Spamton jumped back as someone hollered into the receiver, joy obvious in their tone.
“Spam! Guess what!”
Spamton coughed before realizing this was Mike. Mike didn’t care about Spamton’s glitch at all. Mike was actually probably the only person who completely didn’t judge or care about it.
“WH;;AT[‘s down, circus clown?]”
Mike continued with what Spamton expected to hear. All about how Spamton’s car sales were going through the roof, his advertisements were reaching far out into the city, and how thousands of people kept offering deals with the company.
Sometimes, Spamton went to a studio to record ads or sponsor things. You would expect for his voice to glitch, but for some reason it didn’t. Something took control of him, of his voice. Strings pulled him up and down like a puppet. It scared him and sometimes even hurt him, but at the same time he worshipped it. It was as if it were an angel watching over him, guiding him and controlling him. It sounded like he was insane, but it just… It made him feel safer, knowing that someone was watching over him.
Mike kept talking for a while, all the same stuff. Then he said something that made Spamton’s brain and heart completely stop.
“Speaking of offer, someone else has a offer for you! I won’t say who, but her name starts with a “Q,” and ends with a “U-E-E-N.” You’ll get a letter soon!”
“WHA—”
“Bye!” The call ended with a resounding click and beep.
Queen? The Queen had an offer for him?? What even was it? Why him? Were they going to meet in person— Oh, Knight, what would he even wear?!
He dropped the phone on the floor, his hands shaking with… excitement? Fear? Happiness? He didn’t know and he didn’t have time to figure out as a poppup-letter popped in front of his face.
It was a translucent, glowing, neon blue envelope that opened itself to reveal a scroll. A shrill voice emitted from the scroll, someone must have pre-recorded themselves reading it.
Spamton’s jaw dropped. It was Queen’s voice.
“Dear Mr. Spamton G. Addison,
Hi I’m Inviting You To Live At My Mansion Because: It Is Super Fun.
Awesomeness: Check.
People: Check.
Parties: Check.
We Have It All. I Am Inviting You Because You’re Cool And I’m Bored LMAO. Anyways We Have A Few Rules Around Here You Have To Follow.
Number One: Wipe Your Shoes
Number Two: Have Fun
Number Three: Respect The Pottery
Number Four: Have Fun
Number Five: There Is No Basement What Are You Talking About
Anyways Bye And Yeah Just Show Up At The Mansion Or Whatever IDC.”
Spamton was shaking. A smile slowly crept onto his face as he let out a bark of laughter. Was this really happening? Knight, he hoped it was. He pumped his fist in the air in celebration. His skin felt tingly, like he had been blessed by an Angel. And the truth was, he had. He silently prayed to the strings and to Mike a thank you, thank you for everything.
He was so proud of himself, so excited to be living with Queen. But for now, he had to work. He left the room, feeling way bigger than when he first entered.
***
Clicktin checked his watch again.
6:14 P.M
There was no way! Spamton was fifteen minutes late to their weekly meeting at Cybergrille’s! Spamton was never late, not once, not ever.
What if something bad had happened?
He pushed that thought aside. Clicktin was at a table with Banner, Frequency, and Snippets. They were all chittering about business and new products, when Clicktin realized that Snippets hadn’t said a word. He also looked really tense. Banner and Frequency seemed to notice this too.
Banner reached a hand across the table to Snippets’s shoulder. Snippets flinched away in surprise.
“Hey, Snippets? Are you alri—”
“No, I'm not!” Snippets slapped Banner’s hand away, his breathing suddenly rising in sharp short gasps. None of the brothers had expected the situation to escalate like this, and this quickly as well.
Clicktin spit out his drink, shocked at this sudden outburst of anger. “Snippets! What—”
Snippets curled in on himself, struggling to catch his breath. Clicktin could see him clearly now. There were bags under his eyes, his hair was unkempt and dirty. Snippets looked miserable, and he obviously hadn’t been properly taking care of himself. Banner immediately stood up from his seat, running over to Snippets and wrapping him in a hug.
“Hey, hey there, it’s okay. Just breathe in and out, slowly, okay? It’s going to be alright, whatever happened, we’re here for you…” Banner whispered in a hushed voice to his baby brother, petting his hair. Frequency and Clicktin stared at each other in loss of how to help.
Snippets’s breathing gradually returned to normal, Banner cautiously leaving his side to sit back down. Nobody spoke, nobody really knew what to say.
“…Snippets. I don’t mean to upset you or anything and you don’t have to tell us but… What’s wrong?” Clicktin asked in the most “mature older brother” voice he could manage. He wasn’t really one to be mature, though.
“My shop— My shop, it— It shut down!” Snippets sobbed, tears running down his face. Everyone was frozen, dumbstruck.
“That— Oh, um… That…” Clicktin couldn’t find the words, which only made Snippets cry harder. Damn it!
“Snippets, when did this happen?” questioned a concerned Banner, who had gotten back up to console the weepy blue Addison. Frequency and Clicktin decided to do the same, all of the brothers wrapping Snippets in one big hug.
“It— This morning.” Snippets buried his head into Banner’s arms, hugging him back tightly. No more words were exchanged after that, none more were needed. Just them hugging Snippets. They stayed like that until Snippets stopped crying and gave them a thumbs up sign.
“Snippets, I’m so sorry that happened, I want you—” But Snippets would never know what Banner wanted, as the door slammed open.
***
Spamton was late to Cybergrille’s. He was never late, not once, not ever. He guessed that all the buzzing in his brain about Queen had gotten him a little side tracked. Spamton hopped into his car, racing over towards the grill.
He was so excited to tell his brothers about his deal with Queen! To think that he had been nothing but the Email Guy just a couple months ago was unbelievable. Now, he was a big shot!
Spamton rushed into the grill, slamming the door behind him and running up to the table. He cleared his throat, trying to get rid of the glitches before speaking.
“GUYS, guys, GUESS what!? Que3n invited ME TO her [Luxury Mansion]!” He ran up to a flustered looking Snippets, gave him a quick and tight hug, then plopped down into a chair, smiling. The strangest thing was that nobody else seemed to be smiling back.
“Good job, Spamton. Good job. You. Deserve. This.” said Snippets in a forceful, loud voice. He didn’t sound proud in the slightest. His eyes were red from what looked to be the aftermath of tears.
“What’s [you’re wrong]? Aren’t yOU HAPPY?” he asked nervously, glancing at the upset Addison.
“Spamton… Snippets’s shop got shut down.” Frequency whispered in a shaky voice.
What. No, no, no, it couldn’t be. Just… No… what?
“Yeah, and it doesn’t exactly help that you always burst in the door bragging about your deals. You never even ask me how I’m doing and you refused to fucking talk to me this morning.” Snippets growled, grief morphing into anger.
What?? Spamton hadn’t been bragging— he had just been… informing them about his work! Spamton was spending time with them! He was spending time with them right now!
“And you want to leave us? To move to the mansion? After all we’ve done for you…”
Spamton was confused. Why was Snippets angry at him now? He always wanted Spamton to be successful— was this not what he wanted?
“NO, WeLL— YES. No!”
Snippets’s face was full of loathing, full of jealousy. Spamton had never seen him like this. It was scary. Clicktin, Banner, and Frequency looked scared of him as well.
“Actually, that’s fine. Leave. I already see your face on the big screens everyday, and even that’s too much for me.” Snippets hissed.
“Wait— Snippets…” Clicktin quavered, cautiously thinking of ways to calm the blue Addison down.
“YOU kNOW What I think? [I think]] you’re JUST [Depression: Is Not A Joke] that I’m not your pitiful baby brother anymore.” Spamton retorted, glaring at Snippets.
That was it, wasn’t it? Snippets always liked Spamton because Spamton was the worst Addison. The only reason his brothers had kept him was because it was a reminder that at least they weren’t as much of a failure as Spamton! But now guess what? Now he was better! Now he was successful! And now he wasn’t the worst Addison anymore. No, they all knew who it really was…
“You got one bit of success and now that’s all you talk about! Never do you even stop to think of asking how I’m doing!” Snippets curled and uncurled his fingers into fists.
“OH?? WELL YOU GOt a [Fresh Taste Of—] FAILURE and NOW YOU’RE FALLING [apart..]!! I KNOW the only REASON YOu LIKed [hanging around?] ME is because I WAS WOrse than you! And now that I'm [Big Shot], now that I'm happy, you're jealous because I managed to pull my [$#*+] together!"
“Spamton, that’s enough.” Banner warned him, stepping up between an agitated Spamton and Snippets. But something came over Spamton. He lost control of his body. Spamton fell quiet, but something took control of him. He lost mobility of his body, lost the ability to feel. Green strings came into view, attached to his joints. No, no, no… no.
Not now please.
The strings rarely hurt when they took control… but this, this was painful. Being ripped apart from his body, his vessel. An excruciating pain squeezed around the areas where the strings were, the pressure growing unbearably. It felt like someone was slowly and carefully cutting into his skin. The last time this happened it hadn’t hurt. Why did it hurt?? What even were these strings?????
He tried to scream for help, for someone to save him, for his brothers, but his jaw was stuck. He was trapped in this nightmarish state, an overwhelming sense of dread washing over him. And then his jaw moved, his voice speaking his deepest thoughts for him.
“You don’t really like me, do you?”
Nobody spoke for a moment, only confirming Spamton’s thoughts. Clicktin looked desperately around the table, confused, “What? G- Guys! C’mon, Spam, we do like you! You’re just… This is just…”
“You know what? Fine! You’re all fucking 3mbarrassments to me! Do you know what I think about your shop closing down, Snippets? I expected it. Everyone expected it. After all, your shop is the most useless of all of ours. We should expect nothing more of you. Maybe if you weren’t alive, we wouldn’t have to put up with all your crap.”
Wait.. no, he didn’t mean to say that! What had gotten over him?
The entire table gasped, all the brothers standing up. They seemed disgusted by him. Snippets only seemed to have gotten more angry somehow, and Frequency was fuming. Banner had his stern older brother face on, and Clicktin just seemed… distant.
No no nono I didn’t mean to say that I swear I didn’t mean that please—
“Yeah, I wish I wasn’t born too,” Snippets spoke, angry tears forming in his eyes, “Maybe that way I wouldn’t… I— wouldn’t…”
Snippets broke off into incoherent speaking, full on crying now.
“Just... Stop.” Snippets managed to say through tears, Banner by his side whispering reassurances. Spamton was frozen in place, but not because he couldn’t move. He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t fix this. He felt awful, guilt constricting his throat.
“Get out, Spamton. Go live in your luxury mansion or whatever.” Banner didn’t even turn to look at him while talking.
Spamton drew in a breath. “I’M… I’m…”
“Fuck off, Spamton.” Frequency growled, defensively stepping in front of Snippets.
Spamton looked to Clicktin for help, but he just turned away. Ashamed.
Spamton ran towards the door and out the bar, but this time nobody ran after him. He had gotten what he wanted.