voidcherries
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“You, uh. Sure know your way around a CRT,” Tenna says. “I didn’t know you were a mechanic.”
“I sell cars,” Spamton had replied, back when Tenna was addressing him. “If you talk [Big] with nothing to back it up, people think you’re a hack.”
“Well,” Tenna said, “are you?”
Spamton sprayed the compressed air into his smug face.
That would have been preferable to drowning in insulation foam and getting licked clean by a clown (“HANDS OFF THE [[Officil Merchandise]]!!”). Jevil’s nuisance was missed as soon it was over though, because then all he had was the realization that that was his last chance. To do what, he isn’t sure. To demand an apology. To explain why he ran away. To scream at him. To break that stupid screen himself, just to get it over with, and crawl inside there never to emerge. Then at least they’d be together.
____
An unseen, silent, approximately 4 foot tall individual takes it upon himself to fix the fallen Lord of the Screens. To raise a middle finger to the mysterious phone-calling, prophecy-defining benefactor who screwed him over and made him a living puppet, of course. No other reason.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 195,180
- Chapters:
- 23/27
- Comments:
- 955
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- 2,217
- Bookmarks:
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Bookmarked by voidcherries
13 Mar 2026