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It has been a day. Chatterbox woke up on the floor of the funhouse kitchen after searching for his Cups all day and night, resorting to drinking and crashing on the kitchen floor.
He had opened his phone to a miracle. Texts from Cups, telling him she was at the funhouse.
He stood up on his feet, a bit woozy from the lack of sleep and severely hungover but he was determined to find her. She had been missing for yuck sake.
He stumbled through the first floor, calling her name. “Cups?” He called, “are you here?”
It was when he headed upstairs and called when he heard a faint, “Chatty?”, call for him from his bedroom.
He entered the room, spotting her in the far corner. Her hair was askew and she was covered in sand.
“Cups. What happened?” His voice softened and just from the sight he sobered up quick.
They sat together and had a conversation about what had happened to her, Chatterbox knew something wasn’t right when she started to argue with herself.
So, he took her to the hospital for an MRI. Unfortunately they found a brain bleed and rushed her off to surgery.
“Love you!” She called to him just before she walked through the surgery doors.
“Love you too!” He called back.
Little did he know that would be the last time he would ever hear those words from her.
She woke up screaming. She was fearful of clowns.
Of him.
He left the hospital shortly after.
He needed a minute. Or maybe an entire week. Maybe he would never recover from this.
He walked to his car and hopped in the driver seat. Starting the engine, it sputtered a few times and he hit the steering wheel out of frustration. “Yuck!” He shouted.
On the fourth try, it started and he sped off. He was almost out of gas, but he would push it to the funhouse.
Hitting 180 mph on the freeway, he made it to the funhouse in a quick matter. He pulled the car along the side of the house and accidentally bumps the tree. He doesn’t care.
He doesn’t care about anything anymore.
Chatterbox walks into the house silently, he walks through the kitchen and snags a bottle of whiskey from the alcohol cabinet before he heads upstairs into his room and onto the balcony.
He pulls his phone out of his pocket and silents it before tossing it away from him. He cracks open the whiskey bottle and takes a long swig. He sits and watches the sun start to rise. He’s gone two whole nights without rest and now he’s lost Cups and Ray for what seems like forever.
It doesn’t take long before he’s getting tipsy and he’s reaching for his phone. Chatterbox starts to phone people. Anybody, anyone who can explain this situation or at least listen to him. He calls Kirk. Then Vinny. Then Taco. Then Tessa. No one answers.
He gives up.
He takes another long swig of the now half empty bottle.
He’s going for a drive.
Chatterbox doesn’t get very far from the funhouse before he runs out of fuel. “Yuck this.” He groans, getting out of the vehicle and walking into town.
He loses his footing a few times and nearly eats dirt each time. He sees his destination just ahead. He drags himself there.
He steps up to the payphone, his gloved fingers twitching over the phone. He’s hesitating but it doesn’t last long before he picks up the phone and presses it to his ear. The dial tone buzzing at his eardrum.
Chatterbox is a mess. He usually always is when Cups is gone, but she’s not just out of town. In fact, she’s in the city but she’s gone.
He sighs. He’s drunk. He shouldn’t do this.
Reluctantly, Chatterbox dials the phone number with ease. It’s engraved in his head. He’ll never forget it. The phone dials and rings.
and rings.
and rings.
and rings.
He thinks it’s going to cut off it rings for so long.
“Cups?..” He winces before correcting himself. “Ray? Are you there? Ray. I need you.”
The ringing stops. It’s quiet for a moment.
“Chatterbox?”
It’s so quiet he thinks he imagines it.
“Ray? Pick up! Pick up, Ray.” He says, voice frantic and nearly breaking as tears prick his eyes. The alcohol does that to him. “Okay, Ray! Ray you’re gonna save me right? I called you and- and you’re coming to get me?”
There’s a pause, it’s eerily quiet on the other line.
“Chatterbox..” She sighs. “Why did you call me? I’m with CG, I can’t save you.”
The other line beeps.
“You didn’t pick up.” He says, defeated. He’s still holding the phone to his ear though, pressing it hard against his ear; praying it’s just his imagination.
“…Right.” Her voice whispers. She also sounds defeated, maybe disappointed.
“It went to voicemail.” He realizes.
Her voice chips through the other line reciting her long introduction, “You’ve reached first name Ray, last name Mond, second name Pistone aka Hiccups aka Cups aka the CG two time aka queen of the clowns! Leave your message after the VERY long beep!!!!”
It’s still her. It pains him to hear it because only a few hours ago she screamed at the sight of him and forgot who she was.
“Yeah.” The voice replied, quietly. “It’s too late. What’s done is done.”
He squeezes his eyes shut underneath his mask, shaking his head from side to side.
“No…” Chatterbox argues, saddened. He’s still in disbelief of what he heard through the door earlier. He doesn’t want to believe that’s how it is now.
“There’s nothing I can do, Chatterbox.” She says, “I’m not real. None of this is.”
He shuts his eyes and leans against the payphone, his opposite hand gripping the side of it.
“So, what do I do now?” He can’t do this without her. He’s said it before. She is his motivation, his drive, his anchor. Or, at least, she was.
“Chatterbox, it doesn’t matter.”
“Well if it doesn’t matter, can I stay on the phone with you at least?” He replies, the lower tone creeping its way up his throat. He misses her presence. Even if she’s not real, he doesn’t want to hang up.
“Okay.”
His eyes open and he’s staring at the number pad on the payphone. The dial tone is buzzing in the background. His heart is pounding. He’s not really sure how it’s still going, but it is.
“How was your day?” He asks, frowning.
“Goooood.” She chips. He can hear the smile in her tone.
“Yeah?” He asks for confirmation.
He couldn’t relate. He had just lost everything important to him. First it was Kirk, then it was Twinkles and now Cups Ray. Chatterbox blamed himself. None of the ocean dumpings would have taken place if he hadn’t written that note in the Chang Gang tunnel. But it was too late to go back. He gave up the Clowncil to Happy.
He was out.
Done.
Gone.
“Yeah. My day was good.”