Author's Note: I originally got the idea for some sort of road trip adventure with these two around mid-2014, but only now did a lot of my ideas start to fall into place. This takes place some years before the first episode of the 1980 anime series. A lot of the headcanons and filler details throughout the story are my own, but I'm not claiming eminent domain on them. In short, this is a writing exercise that got bigger than expected. Please enjoy!
Everything that could have made for perfect sales day was right there in that mall. The Friday midday sun beamed down through diamond-shaped skylights, illuminating the streams of contented shoppers; they passed by as a blur of pastels, warm colours, and freshly padded wallets. From his kiosk, Hamegg almost wondered if he was the problem.
The Newberg's Tin Novelties booth, a furnished wooden cart one could describe as "pathetic", sat adorned with little tin robots, cars, and parrots. Hamegg proudly had a genuine vendor's license and the mall's authority to sell – registering himself under an alias – but the toys had been "re-appropriated" during a "private visit" to a poorly locked and monitored storage facility.
Hamegg leaned against his cart with a sigh, almost praying for a customer. Even one toy's sale that day would put him at ease. He thought to himself, Could wind-up toys just not be interesting when we've got all these robots? Kids don't appreciate the classics.
What a letdown. He'd even worn his best green plaid suit that day.
"I thought you were joking," came the boom of a man's voice a few feet away.
Hamegg whirled around in a flurry of limbs and plaid. His nerves settled upon seeing a familiar face, and then re-accelerated when reality sunk in.
"L-L-Long time no see, Lamp!" Hamegg wheezed, adjusting his bow tie. Acetylene Lamp, ever unimpressed, stood four feet from the kiosk, a designer shoe store's paper bag in hand and a stern glare on his face.
"A damn mall vendor," Lamp sneered with fatherly disappointment. "Is this really that "big idea" you were raving about?"
"But Lamp, it's pure profit!" Hamegg gestured to his wares with a showy flick of the wrist. "You in the market for a collectible vintage-style battery-free tin toy?"
Lamp sighed, "Hamegg..."
"Sorry, don't know anybody by that name," Hamegg said with an edge; a familiar cue between them. "You're speaking to a Mr. Levi Newberg."
Lamp nodded, catching on quickly. His bitterness quickly returned, and he replied, "Mr. Levi, I'll pay you to not stand out here with this stupid cart."
That hurt. "Come on, Lamp, I'm not a mooch! Just let me earn some semi-honest money out here!"
Lamp took a step back, nodding. He tried to take on a more casual stance; part of him hoped he could look like an enquiring customer to drum up other shoppers' interests.
"How's, uh, business been?"
Hamegg sighed in disgust. "It's been three hours with absolutely nothing. I sold two yesterday, and spent the gains within hours."
"You can do better than this, Ha- I mean, Levi."
"I know." Hamegg turned to Lamp, exhausted. "I've got a fantastic job offer out of town, but I can't quite foot the bus ticket out there."
"Where is it?"
"Out in Belvidere."
Lamp paused, his eyes lighting up, pieces coming together in his head. "Belvidere..."
Hamegg stood by, watching this, awkwardly poised and confused. He gave a small nod.
"My ex lives there. I'm heading out there this weekend," Lamp said, alight. "I could give you a ride out there."
"Yeesh, your ex? You heading out there for your funeral?" Hamegg laughed heartily at his own joke.
"It's my daughter's birthday."
And the laughter shut off. Lamp was unfazed by the wisecrack and still stood by, eager, a boyish smirk on his face. When Hamegg turned back to face him, Lamp asked, "You wanna close up shop early and get a bite to eat? I was just about ready to head out."
"Well, how can I resist?" Hamegg grinned ear to ear. He began pulling down the cart's aluminium gates, struggling to lock them down with his jittery hands. Lamp had been so busy with his own work that the two of them hadn't been able to see as much of each other like they used to. Hamegg almost felt out of place in his life without his long-time partner-in-crime around.
When the cart was securely shut down, the beaming Hamegg turned on his heel to face an equally eager Lamp. With a proud tug of his bowtie, Hamegg asked, "Now where to, ol' buddy?"
Lamp sat in the driver's seat of his sleek black aerocar, parked outside of Hamegg's apartment building, waiting for him to come back out with his travel bag. Lamp idly ate a takeout cheeseburger. It was such a satisfying but foreign feeling to eat something cheap and messy again.
He caught sight of Hamegg running down the building's front steps, two suitcases and a duffel bag in tow. Lamp let out a pained groan in disbelief.
"You don't need to bring everything you own," Lamp called out when Hamegg started loading up the back seat.
"Actually, I do...!" Hamegg came around to the passenger's seat. "This is a permanent position. I'll be travelling with them."
"Speaking of..." Lamp started the car. "You haven't even told me what it is."
"Give me a drumroll first."
"No."
"Fine, but you owe me one for later." Hamegg buckled himself in. "I'm gonna be...the ringmaster of a robot circus!"
Lamp choked on his food, shocked. He sputtered, "A what?! Ham, that's great! That's very your style!"
"Sure is! I met one of the circus's sponsors at a casino a week ago. He said I had the flair, the drive, the joie de vivre that he was looking for!"
"I'm proud of you, Ham."
"I'm proud of me, too. I gave him a call just now to let him know I'll be in town in a day or two, and I can take over from the current ringmaster."
Lamp turned onto the highway. "Did that guy quit?"
"Nah, they're firin' him because they caught him canoodlin' with one of the robot acrobats."
"Disgusting."
"Yeah."
Lamp finished his cheeseburger as they finally began to soar down the highway. Hamegg sat back, taking it in; Billy Paul crooned on the radio as the scenery soared by, and it gave Hamegg a satisfying, freeing feeling he had been deeply missing.
"The mall can keep the tin toys," he sighed. "But I brought one along. A gift for your daughter, y'know? It's a little wind-up parrot."
"My daughter's turning sixteen, Ham."
Hamegg shrugged. "Then she can use it as a decorative piece! The vintage look is coming back. Kids today love that crap."
"We can't afford," Billy Paul sung along. "To build our hopes up too high..."
"Listen to Billy, Ham. It's an omen."
"Your kid's gettin' a parrot and that's final."
"Hmph. Suit yourself."
Hamegg sat back, proud as before. The sedan was whisking them away to the outskirts of Cliff City, and it felt so free...all the fake names, the unpaid bills, the thugs and the cops and the punks. They were peeling off of Hamegg's back the further Lamp drove out. Hamegg felt so assured to know he would no longer just be some odd job weasel.
He'd be coming back to town one day as Ringmaster Hamegg.
The road to Belvidere was a twelve hour drive. Lamp figured they'd arrive Saturday evening or Sunday morning, but kept his options open. Long drives had become a breeze after all the business trips he'd been taking in recent years. However, he hadn't done them with a nervy and skittish man by his side.
Hamegg was, at that moment, in the process of what almost looked like shoulder-checking his seat. He whined, "I can't get comfortable! How do people do this?"
"They don't wear wall-to-wall polyester, I imagine."
"Can't we stop at a motel already?!"
"I think I can clock in another hour," said Lamp. He was mostly daring himself.
"Aren't you getting tired?"
"Eh, maybe a little, but-"
"So your plan is to stop only when you wrap us around a tree."
"I'm not gonna get us killed, Ham!"
"Haven't you ever seen that public service film where the guy drives through a kid's soccer game? The guy starts closing his eyes while some schlocky pop music is playing, and then he just—" Hamegg accentuated by forming his hand flat and slicing it through the air. "—slams right through this row of hedges and into this ginger kid playing goalie, and his dad starts screaming bloody murder as som—"
"Oh my God, I'm turning, I'm turning!" Lamp yelled bitterly as he switched lanes. A Restlodge was coming up quickly on their right, an oasis in a desert upon Hamegg's eyes.
It wasn't long before the men had settled into their room, a little pale yellow one with twin beds and a minibar. Hamegg took a shower he had long been craving, and Lamp stood in a white terrycloth robe on the tiny balcony, biting into a cigar.
The distant sounds of a blowdryer gave Lamp an indication that Hamegg was done. Eventually the gangly man returned to the room, now having changed into a fresh undershirt and boxers. Lamp gave a look over his shoulder; Hamegg wore his usual nervous smile, his hair a tangle of jet black misshapen curls, his limbs long and slim. He was awkward-looking, but it was how he had always been, and it was a comforting familiarity for Lamp.
"Lookin' good, Ham," Lamp said after a moment, knowing he could've done better. He realized he almost sounded sarcastic.
"W-Why don't you throw that thing away and come watch some TV, eh...?" Hamegg said shakily, his nervous grin spreading.
"You don't not finish a Cuban cigar, Ham." Lamp turned away with a mouthful of smoke.
The TV clicked on. Hamegg skimmed through before calling out, "But come on! The Fifth Element is on channel 17!"
"I'll step in when I feel like it."
Hamegg balled his fists up, feeling his frustration build by the second. The subtle approach obviously wouldn't work when Lamp was in one of his bigshot moods. Hamegg stood up, strolled over to the balcony doorway, and gently snaked his arms around Lamp's chest. The two stood between the star-speckled pitch black night and the yellowy light of the hotel room, Hamegg's teeth gingerly nipping at the bulkier man's neck. Lamp stayed perfectly still, albeit now looking even more smug behind his cigar.
"I get jealous of that thing sometimes," Hamegg said with a nod at the damned cigar, whispering right into Lamp's ear.
"Mmm." Lamp let a pleasant heat flood his body. "Has it really been so long?"
"This was always one of my favourite parts of bein' the gruesome twosome..." Hamegg sighed. "...Don't be a stranger, Ace."
Lamp groaned, but his smile didn't falter. "I've told you not to call me that, Ham."
"I'll call you that 'til you get changed out of those clothes!"
"What clothes?" Lamp tossed the cigar over the balcony. He turned around and whipped open his robe, resting his hands on his hips. Hamegg stared down, eyes wide in shock. His beaming grin quickly returned.
Hamegg looked back up at Lamp's self-satisfied face and said, "Thinking ahead as always, huh?"
"As always, Ham." Lamp pulled off the robe and followed Hamegg back into the room, buck naked. "As always."