#(don’t know what that says about me mentally 🤷‍♀️ ANYWAY I AM PROUD OF MY WRITING THIS TIME AROUND)

[thebigshotman]

The day after Christmas. A rough day for any Addison or salesperson, given that the day was almost exclusively taken up by people returning their gifts and forcing them to shell out money instead of making it. If you didn’t sell anyone anything for Christmas, though, you had nothing to worry about and had a relaxing, normal business day.

That was what Spamton was going through for most of the day today, trying to restock his shelves now that most of them weren’t clipping through the floor. He might be able to reopen soon! And with that he’d have to leave Eileen. A lump in his throat formed at that thought. He didn’t want to do that. What could he do to prolong doing that?

His thoughts were derailed by the lump in his throat bubbling into a gentle hiss of static that transitioned into the screeching of dial up.

Startled, he stumbled to the floor and onto his side, smashing the S. POTION he was carrying onto the floor. He could feel his skin hardening; it hurt like hell. They didn’t say this was going to happen going back, too!

If they had he might not have chosen to be affected by their magic at all!!

*HeaVEN, this hurts…Eileen!! Saff!! An YONE!!!!

His voice was on the frizz underneath the dial up, once again transitioning between throat and voice box. His teeth were growing, that stupid dumb award-losing smile stretching back onto his face whether he liked it or not. How wide he was smiling hurt. His teeth growing hurt. His hair falling out again, the black and white clumps piling up in front of him, were humiliating. His clothing itched.

Someone help him. He screamed beyond the static, only for it to cut off halfway with a startup noise.

He couldn’t feel his thumping, pounding heart anymore. Glitches split his vision now as his glasses became solid frame once again. He squinted his eyes shut, that last bit of moisture trickling off of them as they became simple decoration once again. His plastic hands flew to his head. It was throbbing as the noise and static and voices returned, mocking him.

*[[A]] [[A]] [[A]] [[A]] [[A]]

It was about all the noise he was capable of making at this point as the pain and humiliation built to a fever pitch. Why couldn’t he frown and scream and beg like a normal person could, maybe someone would be able to help him and make this all just go away-

Not like they’d be able to. They’re not real. Like you.

Your angel’s not real, either. Why are you so attached to her?

His eyes flew open.

*…SHUT UP.

He muttered to everyone and no one, for the shop was empty as always. Like a bad nightmare, the pain had passed, as horrific as it had been, and he was back to himself. He was dissociating somewhat as he touched the ground but couldn’t feel the shattered glass, grumbled but in a voice that wasn’t his own. That would pass, too. At the end of the day, no matter how powerful the magic, this was the state he returned to.

…But. He would always make the most of the magic when it was given to him. No matter what the consequences or catches.

*SHE 1S REAL. SHE HAS TO B3. I’D GO [[*cuckoo clock noises*]] IF SHE W4SN’T. SHUT UP.

He slicked back his black hair in annoyance, once again fake and once again layered with an inhumane amount of gel and grease. He hadn’t felt it returning. Probably because it wasn’t real hair that grew, not anymore.

He checked all of his systems now that he was back to normal. His mini-Spams were okay, he could access his Inventory, and his cherub wasn’t in pain anymore! If nothing else, those were pluses. The only other thing was his voice…but what else was new?

That was when he got up without another word, except for a bright, eerily positive-after all that just happened, anyway-confirmation noise leaving his mouth, and went into the back of the shop to check on his mini-selves. Some customers had wanted one, right?

Back to business.