#also y’all spamton is a horrifying creature and we have to acknowledge that

[disastrouslyyours]

Since Spamton has the anatomy of a puppet, he could get away with acting like a lifeless toy as a sort of hiding/disguising mechanism. But what would happen if someone found him and starts feeling and squeezing him?

Amber, bestie, this took a wild turn in my brain?? I don't know if this is what you expected, so hit me up if you wanted this to go a different direction lol.

ANYWAYS you find a weird doll in a thrift store, what happens next will shock you!!

Thrift shopping has always been one of your favorite ways to decompress. There was something about mindfully carding through an endless sea of clothing that allowed you to get lost for a couple hours, your mind focusing on the funky fabrics and outlandish outfits in front of you instead of drifting off to various unknowns and anxieties. It was much easier to focus on whether or not you’re willing to pay $5 for a sweater you’ll wear twice before donating again than to consider whether or not moving here was the right decision.

Either way, you found yourself skulking around any one of the local thrift stores at least two times a week. This particular trip happened to be your third in the past six days, which was as good an indicator as any of your mental state. The winter was always particularly rough for you, both mentally and physically, and moving to a new city ended up being more stressful than you had hoped. The lifeless cardigans in front of you weren’t sparking as much joy as they usually did, so you found yourself meandering to other sections of the store. Somehow you ended up rummaging around the toy section, feeling sentimental and nostalgic as you perused colorful shelves lined with Beanie Babies and Lego sets. One item stands out to you as particularly odd, even for a thrift store. A large doll of sorts, reminiscent of a ventriloquist dummy, lies strewn across a shelf all the way in the corner. It’s surrounded by a random assortment of other toys, including a bright red toy phone, a deck of cards, and a handful of Hot Wheels. Looking at it almost makes your stomach turn the same way looking out of a window at night makes your stomach tie itself in knots out of fear that someone would be looking back at you.

Yet, part of you is intrigued by the potentially haunted ventriloquist dummy. You feel your heart vibrate in your chest, its palpitations reverberating off of your ribcage, as you slowly step closer towards the doll. Before you can even process what’s happening, you watch your hand extend out in front of you to cup the doll’s face. Turning it towards you, you admire the attention to detail on the facial features. A cartoonish oversized nose, cute red cheeks, and an ever-present smile adorn the funny lil man on the shelf. You’re drawn to his dual tinted glasses, one lens pink and the other yellow, as they are a particularly unique choice. You can’t shake the feeling like you should know who (or what) this doll is, but you can’t quite place your finger on why. He just seems so familiar, like you’ve seen him before…but where?

Attempting to jog your memory, you lift him off of the shelf and find him surprisingly heavy and suspiciously warm. You reason that he might’ve just been put on the shelf, warm from being in a donation bag or in someone’s arms. The idea that someone once loved him, only to toss him, crosses your mind and nearly chokes you up.

Get a hold of yourself. Your mind has been particularly frazzled this week, so you try not to be too hard on yourself for having a streak of sentiment.

Turning him over in your hands, you decide to investigate to see if you can find proof to confirm your ‘ventriloquist’ theory and slide a hand under his distinguished black jacket. You’re surprised to make contact with another shirt, which seems to be neatly tucked into his pants. You prod around his back for a while, digging your fingers in to try and find a spot for a hand to fit. You find nothing of the sort, but nearly jump out of your skin when you hear a sound coming from the doll in your hands. This new information makes you think that he perhaps isn’t a ventriloquist dummy, and instead might be some sort of custom-made doll. Complete with a custom voice box, although from the sound of it the batteries must be running low. You flip him back over and decide to test your new theory by pressing a finger into the middle of his stomach, resulting in another strange sound. You still couldn’t determine any distinct words, which was odd. If someone put a custom voice box into a doll, then surely it had to have specific dialogue. Maybe I’m not pressing hard enough? You reason, figuring that press both thumbs into the middle of the doll.

Nothing could’ve prepared you for what happened next.

Pressing into his stomach caused his limbs to flail wildly for a moment, accompanied once again by the indistinguishable sound.

What kind of doll talks, moves, and is this size??

This prompts the need for further investigation. You search him for a price tag, finding a small $4.99 label tied to his wrist. Your inner conscience begs you to reconsider, lest the cute cashier judge you for bringing home…whatever this was. Last week they complimented your selection of sweaters, and while you were hoping to woo them again with your choice finds, curiosity got the better of you. You avoided eye contact during the transaction and barely muttered out a have a good one before rushing out of the door and back to your apartment, with a funny little guy curled up in your arms.

***

Fortunately, you managed to return to your place without seeing any of your acquaintances out and about. As you place the thrift store find on your couch, you can’t help but wonder aloud what compelled you to bring him home in the first place. Grateful for the privacy your own home provides, you decide to start your head to toe investigation. Taking a seat next to him on the couch, you begin by lightly skimming your fingers through his hair. So incredibly soft, you mutter to yourself, and out of the corner of your eye you swear you see the doll’s painted cheeks turn a shade darker. Shifting your attention to his face, you cup it in both of your hands and run your thumbs over the smooth plastic of his cheeks. You’re almost positive you see the area surrounding his painted marks flush a dark pink, and you furrow your eyebrows in thought.

“What kind of doll talks, moves, and blushes?” You ponder, letting your hands fall to his shoulders and giving them a soft squeeze before trailing them down his arms to inspect his hands. Cupping one of his hands in yours, you trace the outlines of the joints along his fingers and press your thumb softly into his palm. You thought there might be a button in his hands that would activate his voice box, but found you thought wrong. You settle your hands on either side of him and press, determined to hear his voice again and attempt to make out what he’s saying. Maybe his vocal track will help me determine what he is?

This time as you squeeze into his surprisingly soft midsection, you watch as his mouth opens to release a fit of giggles.

“Oh? Is this some sort of Cyber City Tickle-Me-Elmo?” Shocked, you press again to receive a similar reaction. Third time’s a charm, however, and on your third squeeze he squeaks and slides away from your touch, backing himself against the armrest of the couch and batting at your hands. You recoil with a scream, nearly falling off your couch as you back away from the moving doll in front of you.

“EASY WITH THE GOODS, [Hochi Mama].” His voice is now very clear except for a clip at the end that sounds forced, somehow. You are frozen in horror, a creeping realization settling in that the man in front of you might actually be just that- a man.

“W-what the fuck?” Is all you manage to stammer out as you watch the definitely a man stand from your couch and brush himself off. He shoots you an uneasy smile, his eyes hidden behind his dual tone glasses.

“I COULD ASK YOU THE SAME THING, [Dearest Customer].” He huffs, seemingly annoyed that you dared to question him. “YOU’RE THE ONE WITH THE [Hands On Experience], NOT ME.”

“What are you?” You feel stupid asking, but you can’t think of anything else to say.

“I’M THE [#1 Top Rated Salesman1997], YOUR OLD PAL SPAMTON G. SPAMTON.” He continues to smile at you in a way that makes your skin crawl, his words dripping with confidence as if they clarify anything and everything. You bury your face in your hands and groan. What do I do with a top rated salesman?

#did i call myself out in this one? #yes thrifting is one of my all time favorite activities #also y’all spamton is a horrifying creature and we have to acknowledge that #ik im thirsty af for him and ik hes so sexy but like #if i saw this in a thrift store id call 911 #drabble requests #amber im sORRY #idk what HAPPENED #the zoni enthusiast