Chomby looked up from his table. He saw someone approaching. They had their hands up.... He recognized this action and immediately pulled up his free hand to point at them. "Hey! No touching!"

The person stopped. Their expression showed confusion.

Chomby snarled. "Section one, article four, paragraph two of my contract states, "No attempts, successful or otherwise, of transforming me or my equipment during my set are allowed. Any attempts, successful or otherwise, will charge a fifty percent fee on the base cost for the set."

The person scratched their head and looked around them. "Mister Chomby, I was... just telling you you had ten minutes left."

Chomby stared at them for a moment. "Oh..." He looked away, visibly flustered. "Sorry, force of habit." Chomby placed his hand on two dials and slowly turned them in opposite directions of each other. The music transitioned between songs. Once this was done and he was satisfied, he looked back at the person on stage. He didn't know why they were still there.

"Everything alright?" He asked, his tone now showing one of concern.

"Do... people transform you a lot?" they asked.

"Until I put the clause in my contract, yeah. At least once per concert," Chomby huffed. "I think I've been a discoball about... eight times the past month? They say 'if you're as fat as a discoball, may as well BE a discoball.'" Chomby rolled his eyes and laughed, but sneered the entire time he was doing it.

"That's... kinda mean of them." The person frowned. "I've been a huge fan of your work. I thought you intentionally did that."

"No," Chomby looked up at the ceiling. "You'd be surprised how many people have magical, fattening, ghost hands just lying around that also own a club." Chomby looked at the man. "It does cost extra for transformation of course. I really don't mind being a discoball... but just not during MID set." Chomby turned to his setup and pressed a hand on the turntable. He pushed it counterclockwise a bit to repeat a segment of the song, making sure it was on beat to his liking.

The person nodded. "Well, I'll leave you to finish your set. Good job so far, Chomby."

Chomby blushed and attempted a smile... but he knew from word of mouth was actually a 'look of silent disdain'. "Thank you." He looked back at the turntable, hoping the person wouldn't think less of him for this. "And... sorry."

The person nodded. Turning around, they left quickly. Chomby wasn't sure if this was just to avoid messing with the set, they were told to do something else on their earpiece, or if he had actually upset them. He feared it was the latter.

A drawing I did midstream. I was having a major "off day" for drawing but am proud of how this turned out regardless!

Chomby/Art/Story (C) Me