A Friend For The Insane

Chapter Five: Revelations

Fona, such a wonderful name, she thought it fit her well, she picked it so she hoped she liked it.

She and Spamton had started walking away from the trash heap, eventually Spamton climbed his way up onto her shoulders and pointed at different things they passed by. She simply smiled and laughed along the way.

They eventually stopped just outside of a small clothing store.

Fona almost thought she would go inside to steal herself something other than her worn and dirty shirt, yet she had second thoughts: they had already stolen from one place, there was no need to steal from another.

So, she opted to keep moving.

And so, they found themselves in yet another alleyway.

Spamton jumped off her back and Fona looked through a trash can.

She found a few dirty cushions, an empty lighter, a few scrap pieces of paper and amateur wire.

Fona set the cushions on the ground, beckoned Spamton to take a seat- which he did- and began to make something out of the things she had collected.

A few hours passed, Fona had finally completed her creation, though calling it anything but a piece of garbage, would be too much of a kindness.

It looked like a pile of paper folded around amateur wire and a few pieces of a broken lighter littered around. When she looked at it herself, she really wished that she hadn't broken the lighter, as well as having fuel.

Suffice it to say: she wanted to burn it, so she chucked the thing into the trash where it belonged.

Spamton had been apparently watching her work and was appalled that she threw it away, for as soon as she stepped away, he jumped in after it.

It was only a few moments before he held it in the air triumphantly.

Fona guffawed, especially when Spamton rolled out of the trash can, while somehow making sure the creation didn't get damaged- not that anyone would notice if it had-

Spamton sat back down on his cushion, set down the creation and looked at Fona expectantly.

She was already sitting so she didn't know what he wanted.

"What?"

"DO YOU HAVE ANY [heroic or valorous] STORIES?"

Fona thought for a moment, trying to remember something beyond her own life story. . . Or what she herself knew of it anyways.

When she thought about it more she realized that she didn't need to be afraid to tell Spamton what she had gone through, she didn't need to hide it, they were friends after all. So, she opened her mouth to speak.

Yet she was interrupted by a strange look that passed over Spamton, who stood up quickly-without his self proclaimed gift- and started running out of the alleyway like his life depended on it.

Fona, being the good friend she was, followed the puppet.

She followed him all the way back to the trash heap.

Then to his shop.

He frantically opened the door and rushed inside.

Fona's brows furrowed in confusion: they had just left here, she didn't think he forgot anything, so why had he come back, and why was he so frantic? She got closer and she was able to make out words, words Spamton was shouting like a lunatic.

"I DIDN'T [stop, drop everything and call now]. WHAT [if you lose your chance] TO BE A [BIGSHOT]. I WAS TOO BUSY [having too much fun?]. A [BIGSHOT] SUCH AS I [can't keep sitting around! Get up, call now!]"

After that his words turned into a jumbled mess, even as Fona got to the front of the shop.

Call? Call who? Why? What was so important about calling someone? Sure they were having fun, but wasn't that the point? Friends did that kind of thing, right?

Thoughts ran through her head as she gently knocked on the door.

The rambling didn't stop, rather, it only grew into static. Unfortunately only one word was made out:

"ANSWER"

It was repeated over and over again.

Fona had enough, she pushed the door open and what met her eyes, shook her to the core.

Spamton was sitting on the floor of the dimly lit area of the shop, rocking back and forth, the silent phone put to his ear. His finger was wrapped around the cord and he tugged at it anxiously.

Fona bounded over to his rocking form, setting a hand on his shoulder and shook him.

"Spamton!" She cried out. "Spamton! Listen to me!" She shook him again "Spamton come on, listen to me, you gotta snap out of it!"

Her heart was pounding in her ears, her hands started to tremble. At the back of her mind she wondered how it all came to this: they were happy, they were doing something fun, then suddenly Spamton had to find his phone and desperately call someone like it's the only thing keeping him from going completely insane?

But that couldn't be right: he could be already classified as insane to begin with, so why was he so desperate?

His glasses turned to static, the phone dropped from his grasp and he slumped in Fona's arms.

Her eyes went wide. Maybe she shouldn't have shook him? Is he alright? Is he unconscious? She picked him up and cradled him in her arms. She couldn't think straight, all thoughts were directed at her friend's well being.

So she sat there, Spamton laying in her arms as she looked over him like a mother lion did her cub.

Time passed, it felt like ages, nothing happened.

More time passed, nothing happened, his glasses were still filled with static.

Than

He stirred. The static was still there.

Fona's heart still rapidly beat in her chest.

She gently set him down, resting his head on her knee, and prayed to any God out there that he would be alright.

Again, he moved, he blinked the static away. Fona was relieved and wrapped her friend in a tight embrace.

When she let go, she looked him in the eyes:

"You've got some explaining to do, you nearly gave me a heart attack!"

Spamton's shoulders slumped, his porcelain hands tapped the floor.

Fona sighed, "please, Spamton, we're friends, we shouldn't keep secrets, especially if they affect us both."

"I-I KNOW. . . [it's just a real good deal] OF PAIN, LOTS TO TELL"

"Than don't say it all in one go, give me piece by piece: no need to rush"

And so, he talked slowly, he took his time.

But, he spoke of a time when he was at the top.

When he was on top of it all.

When his friends abandoned him, because he became what he wanted to be.

He talked about the person on the phone that had helped him get there.

He told her of how the person suddenly vanished.

And how he fell to the bottom, became nothing.

And Fona listened, she listened to it all.

Because that was what a good friend did.