Banana Phone! [READ DESCRIPTION.]

Chapter Two, Consideration.

"And the winner is.. Well, could you believe it? It was the only person playing!" Pear looked around, wondering what the hell went down while he was in that godforsaken gift shop.

Did almost all the contestants leave? Whatever, as long as the show doesn't run for longer than he wants to be there, he couldn't care less.

He looks at the paper in his bag, which he had no recollection of placing there. Probably that peppy, loud Custard Apple slipping it in while he wasn't looking.

The pear stared at the contents of the ad, contemplating. No, he doesn't have a reason to even BEGIN to wanna buy that stupid subscription. But his curiosity killed him.

Turns out, the reason why there was a price range was because of the status it would give you while you were talking to the banana. For 5$, you wouldn't be able to contact him directly.

It would be passing through some sort of filter, through a message bot, and most of your messages would be cloaked in anonymity, or whatever the pamphlet said. Basically fanmail you can send daily, which defeats the point of the service anyway, but whatever.

For 10, it's more individual. The VIP version of the 5$ subscription. You ARE still anonymous, and everything else in the first tier, but you can talk to the host directly.

And for 15, they'd straight up add him as your contact, no bullshit. Of course, the service is done on a separate app, so HIS number wouldn't be shown, but he can see yours, or something?

He squinted at the paper, trying to wrap his head around the mechanics of all the subscriptions. He was SO focused, in fact, that he didn't realize he was practically the only person in the studio.

Pear realized this, and looked up. The room was dark, except for a few spotlights here and there. The stage was dimly lit, and practically all of the props and electronics have already been shut off for the night.

"Damn it." He got up, grabbing his bad as he angrily clutched the pamphlet in his other hand.

He walked towards the exit, paying no mind to the unsettling, liminal atmosphere of the vacated floor. But to his surprise, the gift shop was still open, only this time everything on every aisle was cleaned out.

The custard apple was slung over the counter, seemingly beat from a long day of hard work. He considered walking up to them, if it weren't for the glint of yellow popping up from the corner of his eye.

He shifted his gaze to the figure, who, much to his disappointment, was the host himself, the Dancing Banana.

He seemed to be consoling the tired staff, who only nodded in agreement to whatever he was saying. Pear backed up a bit, watching them from a distance he thought was enough to conceal himself. Though, he was noticed anyway.

But it wasn't immediately obvious, as DB had only just glanced his way, but he felt seen anyway. The pear slowly walks out of his hiding spot, gradually making his way towards the dimly-lit gift shop.

"-And you should really consider letting me hire coworkers for y-" The banana spoke, before noticing the pear approaching the store. "Ah! Well if it isn't my favorite heckler! Had a little shopping spree, I see?" He gleefully stated, granting himself a scoff of annoyance in return.

"Please," He sneered, "It was anything but a spree." He lets his balloon float, watching it touch the ceiling as he rolled his eyes. " I merely saw something I liked and bought it. Nothing else."

"You liked THESE??" Custard Apple interrupted, holding up one of the disfigured toys with an amused, shocked expression. "You gots some weeeiird tastes, pal!"