Protein calls customer service

Protein picked up his phone, paws dancing over its screen, hitting key after key. He kept having to retype everything because he was incredibly uncoordinated, but after nearly an hour of trying he did it. He’d managed to type in the number he’d found on the container for that bashed container of protein powder. He hit the call button, foggy tears pooling in his eyes, pressing the device into his forehead.

But there was nothing. And then he heard a sound, but not the one of the voice he was hoping for. Only some cursed generic happy music that wormed into his muscular ears and crawled its way into his head. His brain screamed and then he did, and he wrenched his phone upwards over his head just to escape from that noisy hell.

“WHat???” he screeched, muscles twitching in anger. “THEY SAID IT WAS A CUSTOMER  SERVICE HOTLINE!!! NOT A WAIT-AND-LISTEN-TO-(censored)-MUSIC HOTLINE!!!!”

He hurled his phone across his cardboard box of a home. And it simply hit a wall of cardboard a few feet away and clattered onto the cardboard floor unharmed. Still playing that damn music.

Protein sighed, reaching for his trusty cup. This was so frustrating, whatever idiots were at the company spilled the gods’ nectar and ruined it. Not only that but his nonexistent money’d gone to waste. And they had to have the worst sounds of all time play while they made people wait.

But his buff paws hit empty air.

He froze, muscles no longer jiggling. No. This couldn’t happen. He flailed at his back, he tossed the few things he owned out of his home (except for the phone because he’d already screwed that up), he climbed out to mug a passerby for their glasses and he climbed back in to look more carefully at the place but nope, there was nothing and his eyes hurt from wearing the glasses. He wrenched the spectacles off and tossed them outside, paler and paler tears making their way down his face.

He curled his whole body up but not in an exercise way and sobbed hopelessly into his arms, ears ringing enough to almost block out that still-playing elevator music. He shoved himself against a wall, reaching over the box’s edge to grab his pillow stuffed with protein powder (He didn’t worry about how owning a pillow might make him seem not so tough because the protein powder would make up for it.)

But it almost seemed like that horrible music was going away. He could almost hear silence, save for the eternal noise his ears gave him.

“Hello! This is customer service for Muscles R Us, how can I help you?” his phone finally chirped.

He couldn’t speak for a second, his voice cracked as soon as he began. But he forced the words out.  

“Can you fix my life?” he whimpered.