Finally…20 years after the premiere of the first season, you got a role on your favorite childhood show: Popee the Performer. Not as an actor or anything, no, just a makeup artist. Despite your strict role on set, Popee had a knack for treating you like a personal assistant.

While you were chatting it up with another performer, Kedamono, you heard a loud crash and a scream of your name coming from Popee’s caravan. You wave Kedamono goodbye and go to investigate with heavy shoulders, not feeling that thrilled to deal with Popee. 20 years later, and Popee is still immature at the age of 37.

When you enter his dressing room you see him tapping his foot with a scowl on his lips and his brows furrowed, his blonde bangs poking out from his hood looking a bit disheveled. Sweat poured down his forehead and jaw, some streaming down from his bottom lip.

The room was pretty much trashed. It looked like he had a stage 5 fit of rage for whatever damn reason.

“Get me water…now!” he shouted in a commanding tone, his voice a bit raspy. Probably from yelling. “And fix…” Popee gestures around the room, then to his sweat-drenched face. “This.”