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“I wish I was like you,” you sigh, a plume of smoke rising from your lips. You pass the cigarette back to Spamton, its burning tip the only source of light in the dark room.
“Like [ME]? Psh, what the [[Are YOU going to HELL WHEN YOU DIE?FIDN OUT NOW]]-” He jams his jaw shut with a hand, muffling the tic. He clears his throat, glaring down at the cigarette. “What’s to like? You don’t wanna [BE LIKE YOUR FAVORITE CELEBRITY IN 3 EAZY STEPS]. I’m a [[nobodie]].”
“No, I mean it,” you say, leaning back on the shitty futon, watching the dark twist above you. “I guess I just wish… I was brave enough to make stupid decisions.”
He narrows his eyes at you, teeth twisting into a grimace.
“Hell’s th[@]t supposed to mean?”
You think for a long moment, trying to conjure the words.
“...Like, I guess… I don’t know. When people treat you like shit, you throw it right back in their faces. Doesn’t matter what happens next. You just live in the present. It’s… cool.” You feel like you’re not quite reaching the point you’re trying to make, but you look over at Spamton, hoping he understands anyway.
He sighs, running a hand through his messy black hair. The greys stand out in the dark, running from his temples and into the greasy points of his mullet.
“Kid, you don’t know what [url] talking about.” He takes a slow drag. There’s a tired weight to his features. “[[The Worst Days Of Fishing Beat The Best Days Of Court-Assigned Anger Management Class (tshirts available on mi website)!!!!]]. I’ve lost [gals and pals] to my [4TH OF JULY FIREWORKS]. It ain’t somethin’ to be proud of.”
“But at least you stuck up for yourself. And besides, it’s also, like…” You sit up, intensifying. Spamton raises a brow, but you ignore his incredulity, plowing ahead. “I don’t think I’ve taken a single leap of faith in my whole goddamn life. No drugs, no sex, no parties, never even cheated on a fucking test. Smoking with you is as exciting as I get. And this is your mild.”
“Lotsa people [WISH ON A STAR] to be like you,” he replies, leaning back on the arm of the futon. “Isn’t a crime to be a [littel] [get rid of those BORING furnitiures].”
“I don’t,” you counter immediately, sharp, prepared for that response. “I don’t want to be like me. I don’t want to be boring. I don’t want to be a wet noodle any time somebody is mad, or wants something from me. I want to be like you. And yell, or fight back, or claim something for myself even if it upsets someone else, and I don’t wanna feel bad about it. I-” You choke, tears springing up suddenly. “-I don’t want to feel bad anymore. I’m so sick of it. I want to be like you. Able to just exist, and not feel bad about it.”
“Kid–” he reaches out, but you pull back to your side of the futon.
You almost reach for the cigarette again, but Spamton seems to be taking his own stress out on it, so you stop. But when you catch up to that subconscious decision, you immediately become more upset with yourself. Your voice catches in your throat.
“I want to make stupid, fun decisions. Drink until I’m dizzy. Tell shitty customers to go fuck themselves. Go…” you can’t think of anything else. “...Go somewhere. Do things. Anything. Fuck. I just– I just don’t want to keep living my life at home forever. I want to be like you. I don’t want to be afraid. I want...”
“--Kid,” he says, firmly grasping your shoulder, interrupting. He gazes into your eyes through those pink-and-yellow lenses, eyes intense. It grounds you. The smell of him, oily but distinctly him, grounds you. It always does.
“Kid.” he says it again, low and focused. “You really wanna know my [secret saucse]?”
You blink away your tears and let him draw you in with his sales pitch. He grins when you lean forward.
“Yeah, that’s what I [LIKE IT] to [see it in a new light]. Listen up.” He takes a drag, blowing the smoke out away from your face. “Listen. It’s [nawt] about bravery or nothin’. You just have to want it.” He says it intensely, like he’s revealing a grand truth of the universe.
“...Want… what, exactly?”
He chuckles, the sound glitching.
“THAT’S EXACTLY RIGHT!” He spouts off, too loud in your face. He slaps your shoulder proudly. “You gotta WANT IT! THE BIG [[IT]]! WHAT IS IT? WHO [noseExtension potion FREE ONLINE]!!” He cackles.
You try to brush him off and lean back. Sometimes he gets like this, ranting about nothing. You can admit to yourself that you were hoping for a real answer this time, but that’s what you get.
But, he doesn’t let you back away from him. Instead, his gaze sharpens again, the lines of his nutcracker face going hard.
“You gotta want it. What’s gonna happen [NEXT UP]. If you [walkers and talkers] away from the [ACTION], you never get [2] [[Close The Deal]]!!!! What do you get? [NOTHING! THAT;S RIGHT, NOTHING!]” He laughs uncontrollably, head shaking. The sound cuts off sharply, and his bright eyes are back on yours.
“--You gotta keep [talk the talk], kid. [SIGN UP NOWin description below] when people make [OFFERS][BIDS ONT YOUR LIFE]. See what happens next. If you back down, if you [Walk Out On The Deal Of A Lifetime?!?!], you don’t find out if this is [WHOLE SHEBANG]. Maybe bein’ yourself lands you somewhere you like. If not, well, what’s the fuckin’ [eggs ‘n’ harm]?”
“You say that, but you ended up here,” you sigh, disappointed by his answer. You’ve heard it before.
“Yeah, well. So did you,” he points out smugly.
You don’t have a reply to that.
“C’mon, don’t [gimme] that look,” he teases, still grinning. He pats your shoulder again. “It ain’t that hard. A good salesman [keeps the fish biting], even when he’s too [[Tired Of It All? Call Us @]] to [HOLD THE PHONE!!!]. You can do it. I’ll even help you out, no cost. Aren’t I a [One In A Million].”
You brush off his hand, and this time, he lets you. You sink back against your arm of the futon, crossing your arms and giving him a look. He laughs.
“Just give it a try, alright? I’ll do the [yhapping]. All you gotta do is [[PRESS ENTER TO CONFIRM]].”
You sigh, but wave for him to continue his spiel.
“SEE? THAT’S A [HEADSTART]!” He points at you, teeth dragged up in a crooked smile. “Easy as [Buterscotch Cinammon pie].”
He claps his hands together, sitting up straighter. The cigarette hangs from between his teeth, burning down as he presses on.
“You wanna go somewhere? L[3]t’s go. Tomorrow, [ALARM SET for 4:59 pnm]. We’ll go eat somewhere with [[RealDealHealMeal]].”
You grimace.
“I work a shift tomorrow, you know I can’t–”
“[WRONG ANSWER].” He makes a loud, unpleasant buzzer noise. “[WRONG ANSWER].”
You groan, dragging your hands down your face.
“...How about the day after? I don’t work then.”
He nods rapidly, hair coming loose. The cigarette crunched between his teeth burns out, leaving him with just the ashy filter sprinkling down onto his lap.
“THAT’S RIGHT! If you can’t do it [A.S.A.P.], you [[pick a time, pick a place]] and MAKE IT HAPPEN! Okay, next one.”
He rubs his hands together, thinking.
“...Awright. Okay. Somebody [Email] you a [/party invitate]. What do you say?”
“...I tell them I’m coming?” Your voice isn’t particularly enthusiastic, but it seems to please Spamton all the same.
“YES! You always say YES! YES! YES! And when you get to the [Scene Of the Creme], all your friends are doing…” He thinks, before breaking into a jittery laugh. “[WINDOWPANES] and [[GRIDDLEMARKS]]!!! What do [U] say then?!?”
Despite what you said before, you grimace.
“Hard pass.”
He makes that loud incorrect buzzer noise again.
“[WRONG ANSWER]!!!! You say YES! YES! YES! BE [everybuddy’s favorite price:FREE]! ENJOY [yorself]--”
“No, seriously,” you cut him off, tightening your arms against your chest. “I know what I said earlier, but I meant more, like, weed. I don’t think the other stuff is a good idea.”
He pouts, but concedes.
“[PartyPopper]. Fine, be that way. But if the joint’s got [8$ Tenths], whaddaya say to that?”
“Yes, I guess,” you sigh, cracking a smile. “I guess.”
“GREAT! GREAT! Okay, one more. [THE BIG ONE].” He takes the long-dead filter from between his teeth and crushes it into an overflowing ashtray. He slides a sly grin your way.
“Your [#1RatedPal1997] is going dumpster-diving for more [Hotcakes] to stock up the shelves. You comin’ or what?”
“Ugh, noooooo,” you groan, but he’s already standing up. He pops his collar, holding out a hand to you, grinning.
“[WRONG ANSWER].” He buzzes, utterly smug.
You use his hand for support and drag yourself to your feet. The monkey’s paw has curled. You wanted more experiences.
…You guess you may as well benefit your pet scammer while you do it.
“...Fine.”
He beams at you, rosy cheeks easy to track, even in the dark. He turns, and you follow him out of the room.
“AND THAT’S HOW [U] [[SEAL THE DEAL]]!!!”