Stan sat on an old, flattened mattress in a room that even rats didn't want to dwell in. He had been phased out as a salesman, considering the fact that his merchandise didn't hold up well to the test of time… or hold up at all really. He had been trying his best to make things work, but at this point he was beginning to have to face the facts that he was not going to be the one in his family to get them out of the slums of New Jersey. In fact, he wasn't even allowed in New Jersey anymore after the Sham Total incident.
He looked at a stain on the wall as he tried to devise a plan. He owed quite a few people money. He had already exhausted his resources as far as the more illegal side of making money went. His business, Stan Co. was going down the tubes. At this point, he wasn't even sure when his next meal was going to be.
Stan knew that this was not a good place to be. The motel was in a dangerous part of Southern California, where plenty of dangerous latinos tended to hang out. It wasn't like he really had a choice, this motel accepted drugs and $400 as two month's rent, which was practically all that he had when he moved in.
Stan had a few of his old products as well, but they were broken and not worth the effort to try and sell. After all, Stan Co. had a bad reputation and there was really nothing that Stan could do to recover from that.
Shortly after moving into that motel, he heard that his father passed away. Even though he had been kicked out by his dad, he had wanted to prove himself to the man before his death. However, he had done nothing of the sort. He hadn't seen any of his family since they gave him the boot. He was pretty sure his brother Sherman wouldn't even recognize him if they met on a bus. After all, last he heard, Shermie did live in Southern California. Where exactly his brother lived, Stan didn't know.
Then there was Stanford. All the way up until their senior year, Stan and Ford had been closer than ever. They did everything together; they were a dynamic duo. But after what happened to Ford's science project, Stan hadn't talked to the man. He wanted to reach out, to talk with his brother again. Stan knew better. He knew that his brother would probably never want to see or hear from him ever again.
Despite that, Stan bit his lip and let out a hefty sigh before deciding that he would at least try to reach out. Maybe if he got ahold of Ford, explained his situation… Then maybe they could meet up, maybe they could work together and be a team again. Stan was almost certain that that was all just a pipedream, but it was one that he really wanted to happen. Maybe if they just talked it through they would be able to be brothers again.
Stan got up from the creaky bed and put on his jacket. It wasn't really cold, but he found some comfort in the leather since it once did belong to his brother. He looked at himself in the mirror and frowned before he grabbed his keys and left the motel room, making sure to lock up. It didn't really matter too much in the end, but he liked feeling somewhat normal at the end of the day.
Stan decided to walk to the nearest payphone nearly an hour away, because he didn't really have the gas to just be going wherever he wanted at that moment.
As he walked, Stan had to convince himself that it was worth the effort to try and talk to his brother. Even though they didn't really get along, who's to say that 8 years and what Stan could only assume was thousands of miles' distance might bring them closer. Maybe Ford forgave him after all of these years. Maybe he would be nice and allow Stan to come be with him again. Stan had heard word that Ford got a grant and was going places. After all, the man was brilliant. The most brilliant person Stan had ever met.
Having gotten lost in thought, Stan was surprised when he realised he was at the pay phone. He stared at the phone before pulling out the crumpled piece of paper he had in his pocket. He looked at the number and let out a sigh. He was going to do this. He had to do this.
Stan picked up the phone and dialled the number he had for his brother. He held the receiver tightly to his ear as it rang, feeling tense. Many rings later, the line picked up. "This is Stanford Pines."
Stan opened his mouth, before closing it and putting the phone back on the hook. The moment he heard his brother's voice, the moment he realised how dumb he was being. Ford was off being successful somewhere in the States; Stan would just get in the way of that. He wasn't successful, wasn't impressive, wasn't anything. He didn't deserve to ask his brother for help.
He looked at his best up shoes before starting back to his motel room. There was no way he could face his brother. Not like this. Maybe a couple of years from then or something he could possibly reach out to his brother, after he somehow got himself out of all of this.
Once Stan reached his motel room, he collapsed onto the bed and let out a deep sigh. He was really in a heap of trouble now. He wouldn't be surprised if his brother would hear of his death before they met again. It was depressing but Stan was pretty sure he was at risk at this point.
Stan laid on his bed and stared at the ceiling, trying not to once again get overwhelmed by the thoughts of being alone like he was at that moment. Somehow it would work out. It always does. It had to.