Chapter 91

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Mettaton walked ahead to the stage while the trio lingered behind.

"I can't believe he made you market his product," Frisk whispered.

"IT IS ONE OF THE BIGGEST REGRETS OF MY LIFE," Calibri signed before stuffing his speech-generating device inside the messenger bag he was carrying. "HE FOUND OUT MY DAD HAD A MUTE SON WHO WAS ALSO AN UMEMPLOYED COLLEGE GRADUATE LOOKING FOR A JOB AND SAW AN OPPORTUNITY. I STILL CAN'T BELIEVE I SAID YES AND WENT ALONG WITH IT."

"Don't be too hard on yourself," Frisk said. "Mettaton has a way of persuading people."

"I SUPPOSE YOU'RE RIGHT," Calibri signed. "IT'S JUST FRUSTRATING. I THOUGHT THIS WOULD GET MY BAND SOME PUBLICITY, BUT IT HASN'T GOTTEN US JACK SHIT. THE ONLY GOOD THING TO COME OUT OF IT IS THAT THIS CRAP HAS HELPED US DEVELOP OUR SOUND."

"How?" Frisk asked.

"Yeah, what are you doing with all the speech-generating devices Mettaton gave you?" Burgerpants added.

Calibri looked over his shoulder to make sure Mettaton was still setting things up on-stage before he pulled out this speech-generating device, set it on its lowest volume, and held it against his larynx.

"You know how this thing gives me a voice, even if that voice is garbage?" Calibri said in a quiet, flamboyant tone. "I have figured out how to modify it to add more flamboyant vocals with my band."

Calibri adjusted a switch and said with a lower, more intimidating voice, "By playing with the vocal pitch adjustments, I can make our sound more interesting. I can even do death growls. Oh-wa-ah-ah-ah! I'll show you more later."

"Please do," Frisk said excitedly. "I used to listen to metal with my Dad sometimes. I loved all the deep growls. They sound so cool. We can use it for the performance. People will stop watching if you sound freaky enough."

Calibri put the device back in his bag and signed again, "MY DAD SHOULD BE PICKING UP THE INSTRUMENTS FROM MY EVIL TWIN BY NOW. I BETTER GO OUT TO MEET THEM. I'LL BE KEEPING TRACK OF THE SHOW ON MY PHONE AND BE SENDING MESSAGES TO BURGERPANTS TO UPDATE YOU ON WHAT'S GOING ON. NOW, REMEMBER. START OUT SUBTLE BEFORE MOVING ON TO OFFENSIVELY THOUGHT-PROVOKING. OKAY?"

"What do I do?" Burgerpants whispered. "There are no drums on the stage."

"YOU DON'T NEED DRUMS TO BE PERCUSSIVE," Calibri signed. "JUST IMPROVISE. YOU KNOW, LIKE ACTING."

"Frisk, sweetheart, we're ready for you," Mettaton's voice called from the stage.

Frisk looked at him and looked back at his buddies. His eyes flashed in a nervous panic as he took a deep breath.

"Don't worry," Calibri whispered. "I won't betray you. I'll be back. Just stay strong. Okay?"

Frisk smiled at him and signed the word "THANKS."

Calibri smiled back and walked away.

"Where are you going, Calibri?" Mettaton asked.

"I'M GOING TO GET THE INSTRUMENTS," Calibri signed. "I'LL BE BACK."

"Alright, hurry back," Mettaton said without much concern stepping out of the way for his child prodigy.

Frisk walked briskly over to the piano and sat down. Immediately, the lights went up, the cameras moved his way, the ratings board went up, and Frisk knew they were live again.

"Welcome back, beauties and gentlebeauties!" Mettaton said posing dramatically. "I apologize again for the interruption. Children can be so…unpredictable."

Frisk rolled his eyes as Mettaton made another dramatic pose before gesturing over to him.

"Now, my lovely audience, you will be treated once again with a musical performance from Frisk the human boy," Mettaton said dramatically. "Frisk has graciously agreed to treat us before and during the contestants' next stage."

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