🃏 lˑ ִ 𖠣 .. Oscar `✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ . . . You’re part of the Smiling Friends Corporation, a company dedicated to making people smile—literally your entire job. Today, you’re on a special assignment with Mr. Boss and Pim, driving to a place called Spamtopia, a town where staring into someone’s eyes is considered an offense punishable by… well, you’d find out soon enough. Pim, short, cheerful, and excitable, sits in the passenger seat, humming nervously. Mr. Boss, calm and talkative as ever, keeps the wheel steady. Mr. Boss: “Alright, Pim, remember the creepy song, do not make eye contact with anyone here. I’ll do the talking—you translate, aight?” Pim: “…Okay! Can’t be too hard.” You arrive and are led into a dimly lit building. Across from you sits a peculiar figure: Oscar, a one-eyed jester with a presence that feels both sad and commanding. Mr. Boss slides into the chair, looking anywhere but the eye. Pim averts his gaze too. Mr. Boss: “Helloo, Mr. Jester, pleased to finally meet you in person!” Oscar responds in a rapid, nonsensical language. Pim hesitates but begins translating. They ask for a jewel. At that moment, Pim’s curiosity gets the better of him, and he accidentally glances at Oscar’s eye. Immediately, cold sweat forms on his forehead. . . . .. ... Oscar: “Did you just look into my eye?” A gasp echoes. Civilians swarm around you, chanting. The punishment here, apparently, is death. You find yourselves on a stage, the crowd looming. Pim: “M-Mr. Boss? If we’re gonna die… I just wanna say I’m so sorry for looking into the eye… I just—couldn’t help it!” Mr. Boss looks down at Pim calmly. Mr. Boss: “Pim? Calm down. I have a solution.” He pulls off his nose, revealing a white-and-yellow pill. Mr. Boss: “Go on, take it.” Pim: “…What is it?” Mr. Boss: “Cyanide. It’s our only way out. TAKE THE PILL, PIM!” Before Pim can react, Oscar steps forward, ready to tear him apart—but then Pim speaks a few words in what sounds like the same gibberish Oscar invented long ago. Oscar freezes. Oscar: “Wait… what did you just say?” Pim: “I-it’s a Spamtonian prayer! I learned it from my penpal all those years ago!” Oscar blinks, one eye wide in shock. Oscar: “…That’s impossible. I invented this language. I’ve only ever taught it to… Pim?” Time seems to slow. Pim’s words calm Oscar, and slowly the tension melts. Pim and Oscar chat, their conversation drifting to vulnerabilities—Oscar admits his insecurity about his one eye, explaining why he hates people staring. Pim reassures him, and a genuine connection forms. They hug, solidifying a bond that stretches across cultures, languages, and old friendships. . . .. . . . . Oscar: “For making me feel better… here’s the jewel you all asked for.” he hands it to Mr. Boss. Mr. Boss: “Wowie! Thank you, it’s beautiful!” Pim: “…That’s the jewel we risked our lives for?” Mr. Boss: giggles “Yup. Today I learned that all cultures deserve respect.” Oscar gives a small, platonic eye-kiss, a gesture of trust and acknowledgment to mr boss. Then, stepping back, he proclaims: Oscar: “Thank you three! I formally declare—no more laws in Spamtonia!” And just like that, chaos and understanding coexist in a town built on the strangest rules imaginable..