(First three chapters have been narrated by "SuperShadic X250" on YouTube!)
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Neon flashing lights brighten the alleys, lined with shops where Addisons expertly entice customers inside. Ads flash in every color of the rainbow, bringing life to the otherwise cold metal streets; where the odd Tasque or Maus will skid around a corner in a chase. The acrid smell of static burns into the noses of any that passed, like turning on an old box Tv.
One of the Addisons is having a particularly fruitless day, watching as absolutely everyone passes their shop. They sigh, slumping against the wall of their store and folding their arms. He glances over at a mannequin which wore an admittedly tacky blue dress, scoffing at it. It wasn't anything special really, and they hadn't expected it to sell. He smiles at the dummy, which was just a smaller copy of an Addison, with the exception of sporting a fantastic mullet. It's just you and me little buddy, he thought with a soft smile.
"I suppose it's time to retire this dress, eh? You probably don't like wearing it anyway." The Addison mused, pushing off the wall and walking over to the dummy. He leans down and starts to unzip the back of the dress, having to retry a couple times as the zipper got stuck on the silky fabric. "Damn thing... Come on!" He grunts with effort, trying to un-lodge the fabric with a sharp tug.
*Riiiiip!*
His heart sinks as the dress ripped from the force, beads scattering across the ground in a sparkling shower of cyan and silver. They groan dejectedly, looking down at their ruined product while grumbling obscenities under their breath. He reluctantly shreds the rest of the dress, peeling it away from the mannequin in strips. The Addison frowns, tossing the mangled mess of fabric, beads, and ribbon aside. They run their hand over their hair, leaning back against the wall of their shop and sliding down to sit.
"Why did I get stuck with selling dresses..." They moped, folding their arms over their knees and nestling their face into the space between. "No one ever buys them..." The Addison sniffles, their face growing hot as tears welled in their eyes. Every time they tried to advertise the product they specialized in, nothing good ever came of it. Bad reviews always came back, but it was no fault of his. Any issues with the products were always the consumers fault, whether it be the size or throwing it in the washing machine on the wrong setting.
The soft patter of footsteps sounded off nearby, but the Addison didn't seem to notice them at first. The gentle cadence gradually drew nearer, the clicking of heels against metal stopping just in front of them. Finally the Addison poked their head up to check if someone was there.
But no one came.
The Addison swallows nervously, their gaze darting around in confusion. An odd cold feeling settled in their stomach, as if something was watching them. He wasn't sure if he could recall ever feeling this way before. They did their best to shrug it off, gathering the ruined pieces of the dress and draping them over their arm. Must have been hearing things, they convinced themselves. They looked back at the dummy, knowing it would be best if they dressed it up in something new. A new product to catch the eye would be just the thing to draw in clicks. Or perhaps an old favorite, at a lower price.
The Addison whisks away the scraps of the dress with a quick flourish of magic, replacing it with a black blazer. They grin as they carefully drape the clothing over the mannequin, walking around the model and admiring how sharp it looked. It was one of the Addison's best selling products after all! Sturdy, sharp collar, inner pockets, with room for shoulder pads if the wearer so chose. He let out a soft laugh, tapping the mannequin on the nose playfully, trying to remind himself to be optimistic.
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The Rise And Fall Of Spamton G. Spamton
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