Spamtenna Week 2025
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Maybe having an in-house bar isn’t such a good idea anymore. By now, Tenna can’t count how many times he’s embarrassed himself in front of his staff. It’s not a good look. It wasn’t a good look the first time around but now it’s a pattern, and patterns mean problems, and Tenna has enough of those already. The last thing he needs are his employees questioning his authority or worse, thinking Spamton is the reasonable one out of the two. They have no idea the things Spamton does in the privacy of his own office. Or home. Or Hell, even out in public. It’s just the smug bastard knows how to play it smooth. But Tenna will show them. He’ll show them all. Eventually. He’ll show ‘em something, alright. Not sure what. Oh, God – the floor is not his friend at the moment. Tenna nearly goes tumbling straight into it, his feet tripping over nothing, but finds a wall to lean on instead. It doesn’t help that he’s got his arms full of, well, Spamton.
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- Part 1 of Spamtenna Week 2025
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Then, he pushes Tenna back roughly — causing the top of his head to scrape along the interior — and slams his foot on the pedal. If this is Spamton’s way of getting them to their destination faster, he’d rather they don’t get there at all. Which, well, considering the speed they’re going at? That seems like the most likely outcome. Clutching onto the now-miniscule grab handle, he tries to settle down because he’s got his knees pinned to his chest and his back pressed up against the rooftop. The audacity he has to suggest that. Tenna, jealous? Jealous? Oh God, maybe Spamton would be better off doing comedy. They should revive Lightner Night Live just for him, because everything he says is a joke. As if. Tenna could care less about how he spends his spare time.
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- Part 2 of Spamtenna Week 2025
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What’s he doing?
It’s a rare sight to see him spending the night with anyone. The entire night, that is. Spamton takes pride in his ability to hoof it and book it the first chance he gets. Doesn’t matter who’s bed it is he’s found himself in, what dingy hotel room or backseat of a car — it’s all the same to him. Staying over creates expectations, and expectations make things messy and damn, his life is messy enough as is. Last thing he needs is someone hanging onto his every word and calling his cell at all hours of the day. He’s already got that all bundled into the ticking timebomb he calls his business partner. Coincidentally, it’s Tenna’s place he’s crashing at. A fact that’s doing nothing to help keep the boundaries he’s set in place, y’know, set.
Series
- Part 3 of Spamtenna Week 2025
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Tenna still feels a prickle of shame when he remembers all the paystubs he failed to fulfill, even after he auctioned off everything in the studio. And yeah, maybe it’s not exactly because he didn’t fulfill his promises, and mostly because the final piece of publicity he got was less than positive when it covered all the particulars of his… business practices. To put it mildly, ‘Mr. SCAM Tenna?’ painted him in a rather bad light. Besides, he had never been the real scammer prowling the streets. If they'd wanted a better pun and a proper target for their witch-hunt, they could've gone with: ‘SCAMTON G. SP—
Oh well, it's not like there’s a lot of people who’d recognise Tenna these days. Every few months, he gets a cheque in the mail for his residuals; an extremely humbling reminder that hardly anyone knows his name or watches his show anymore. Not only does he live in the middle of nowhere — no offence, kind of — but he’s retired his suit, retired his brand, retired his everything, and traded it in for sweaters and vests instead. The closest he gets to reliving his crumbled stardom is whenever he’s addressed as Mr. Tenna while directing the school’s yearly musical.
Series
- Part 4 of Spamtenna Week 2025
- Part 1 of lightner cinematic universe