A/N: First story in my challenge. Prompt idea was given to me by ~hawk-of-the-month whom I love so very much. And I've been so wanting to write Krew.
--- Dedicated to my sister, for her ever wonderful prompt~
Disclaimer: Jak and Daxter and all its characters belong to Naughty Dog and other companies involved
Rating: T
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So Hungry
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It was nearing the end of the season. A time when most people were beginning to prepare for the fall turning to winter, and the constant impact of the holidays. People had their coats bundled up to their faces, wispy puffs of breaths escaping from open mouths as people turned to shiver and snuggle up to their friends and family on the streets.
But this wasn't of any concern to Krew. No, he had no need for celebrating holidays with friends who wanted nothing more than to come over to your house, uninvited, saying that they wanted to throw a party and eat all your food. And he could care less for the festivities of getting together and giving out gifts. If it wasn't food, or something to aid him in his already stunning good looks, then he couldn't give two craps about it.
There was something about October, however, that always lifted his spirits just a little every year. And it wasn't Halloween, quite the contrary. He found no joy in having to give away his candy to people who merely walked up to the door of his run down bar, saying "Trick or Treat!" in their shrill voices. No, this just did not make any sense to him in the slightest. In fact, he found it down-right rude that a meek looking mother had scolded him one year for responding with a very happy, "Treat!" before taking the young child's candy and eating it in one disgusting bite. Wasn't that the game? If he wanted to be tricked or be given treats? He remembered Torn had tried to explain it to him once, but he was a bit famished from not having eaten in about ten minutes, so his concentration was lack luster.
But it wasn't even this realization that he could get all this candy that served Krew's fancy. Instead, it was the promise of a seasonal item that stayed but once a month and then left him to fend for himself the rest of the year until it's return. And this particular item, the object of Krew's fancy, was nothing more than merely … a cereal.
Yes, Count Chocula was what Krew had been craving. Unfortunately for him, he had run out of the first 100 boxes he had purchased within the first week, and this always proved a problem for him. But that's why Krew was prepared this year. That's why he had loaded up en mass so that he could enjoy his delicious chocolate-y goodness all year round. Unfortunately for him, his last box had just been emptied by a small orange creature, always complaining about wanting pants, and about to meet his end.
Foam and spit fizzled from Krew's snarling jaws, his pupils contracted as he watched Daxter lift the spoon to his furry little mouth and take bite after bite, not even enjoying it, Krew surmised to himself. As he watched the milk drip from the corners of the small animals mouth a little, his palms began to get sweaty, causing him to flex his finger and his arms to tense. And had it not been for the ginormous amount of bulky fat Krew had gathered in place where arms should be, there would have been tendons stretching and veins popping.
His mind was going fuzzy; he wasn't sure how much more of this he could take. Watching Daxter chew and swallow and indulge in his little piece of heaven? Surely he knew this meant war! Shaking the sagging skin of his face around in a fluster-y humph, Krew floated straight towards Daxter, his face turning a dangerous shade of purple. If one were to come across this scene, they might think that the poor man was suffocating on his own rolls of skin. But when Krew was hungry and there was an obstacle in his way, the man never moved faster. Never fought more for his goal. And while the strain on his heart was immense, the intense hunger of his stomach was even worse.
"Daxter," Krew spat, his mouth parting in a sickening splat as saliva stuck to his mouth sickeningly, giving off a grotesque shine, "That's my cereal you're eating there."
Daxter, not as easily phased by Krew's massive size any longer, turned to the colossal ball of lard and snerked, "Pfft, I don't see your name on it Krew ol' boy. And besides," Daxter emphasized with a kick to Krew's stomach, "I really don't think you need it, Big Boy."
Shaking around violently, Krew lunged forward as best he could toppling Daxter's Count Chocula to the ground, bowl breaking in the process. "What do you mean you didn't see my name on here?" Krew questioned, body convulsing, "I wrote it right here!" He emphasized this last remark by jabbing a pudgy finger at the top right hand corner of the box, where a surprisingly neatly written "Krew" was written in bold, permanent marker.
"Well, uh—I…," Daxter tried, not really knowing what to say considering it was just a cereal and he could always go buy more. But before he could even attempt to explain himself, Daxter heard a loud slurping sound coming from below his feet.
He watched in slight horror as Krew's little legs dangled in front of his face as the rest of his body was flipped upside down trying to retrieve what he could of the cereal with his tongue, lapping up bowl parts and dirt from the floor alike.
"Krew, dude," Daxter gagged, desperately wanting Krew to stop in his pursuits, "It's only cereal, man!"
"It is not only cereal, Daxter," Krew sneered, spitting milk and cereal bits onto Daxter as he spoke, "This is a way of life! And I need more of it, so much more of it. I must have it!"
And with that Krew sped off, his little chair that was beginning to creak with his sheer size and mass. Without even bothering to use the door, Krew smashed through the rotting wood that he really had been meaning to replace someday, and ran over an unsuspecting patron whom he didn't even through a half-asses apology at as he sped off down the streets of Haven City to the nearest grocery store.
Whipping the particles of food that Krew had flung at him off of his body, Daxter gave an intense shudder before stuttering out a loud, "Why do I even come here, anyway?!"
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His cheeks undulated in the wind, almost smacking him in the eyes, now in slits, eager to get to his destination. Drying them out slightly, the slightest bit of pink began to creep it's way onto his vision, causing his normally yellowing eyes to be stained with little red patched of veins. His few teeth hung dangerously from his rapidly decaying gums, constantly red and puffy. The wind causing them to bleed a little and mix with the spit that ran from the corners of his mouth and down his chin into the abyss of neck fat. His tongue lolled out of one side of his mouth, joining the trip in the wind along with his cheeks, now becoming pinkish from the force of the air pushing on him.
His already un-clean shirt showed signs of fatigue as Krew sweat inhuman amounts. Staining the area around his chest, armpits, and even his belly, the greenish color of sickness turning into a deeper shade of vomit-y spinach. His stomach heaved up and down, twisting this way and that and causing the acids deep inside of it, slashing in hungry and desperation, to slash violently against their housing organ.
Krew's arms pumped back and forth, again and again, obviously causing some kind of strain as they began to show veins hanging against skin, pushing as hard as they could against the surface, trying to pump sufficient amounts of blood to their necessary destinations. The stale breath flew from his open mouth quickly, leaving large puffs behind him as Krew wheezed from the strain of trying to make it to his destination faster.
The little things he called legs swung dangerously this way and that. It was a wonder that they hadn't been snapped from his body yet. But as they scrapped along the ground and, sometimes, the ceiling of some of the inner roadways and bridges, Krew's supposed pain was forgotten, the obviously numb feeling in his legs not a huge concern.
Random passerby's were jumping every which way, doing all in their power to get out of the way of the out of control locomotive made purely of skin. Some dove into buildings, others into the street. Taking their chances with some of the lower hovering vehicles and even the Krimzon Guard. Children cried as Krew's shadow covered them in a deep, dark void, seemingly sucking away all light.
It just so happened that, around this time, Jak had been flying back to the Hip Hog to retrieve Daxter. He had only left him there to do a couple of errands, so he didn't think he was going to get in too much trouble. But as Jak flew along, using his precise maneuvering skills to avoid other vehicles in his way, he was suddenly in direct view of one very pissed off looking Krew, flying like a meteor in his general direction. Try as he might to escape the obvious gravitational pull that Krew had surrounding him, Jak just nicked him enough to clip the side of one of his engines, causing the flying car to go into a tumultuous spiral, ultimately crashing into the water next to some of the streets, and exploding into a fireball and mushroom cloud of destruction.
Surfacing, Jak let out a gasp for air and shook what little water he could from his face. "Damn it, Krew!" he hissed to absolutely no one in particular, now making his way to the bar that was now only a few feet away.
-xox-
Krew continued assault through the town caused many buildings to be set a flame as well as some of the citizens. The Krimzon Guard had the best intentions to stop Krew, but the man was far too enraged to notice the mass amount of destruction he was causing. Of course, he would surely look back on all this and lick his fingers in evil delight, but not right now. Time was too crucial an element.
But he finally arrived; the grocery store. He had been to this particular one many times. And not for it's pleasant atmosphere and friendly associates, no. He came here for the free samples, which he never failed to indulge on as best as he could. Yet even today, when he could easily smell fresh chocolate chip cookies being removed from the oven, smell the juicy fried chicken, popping and sizzling in the grease it had been cooked in, these things, amoung others, did not sway him. He needed to hurry to the cereal isle, lest something become wise to his ingenious mind and take all the Count Chocula for themselves.
Knocking a stroller over and causing a poor baby to topple over into a display of cameras, the cries of the child and mother echoed behind him only for a second until he rounded a corner rather abrasively, and there he floated: In aisle 5; the cereal isle.
Krew's eyes shifted nervously around in his skull, looking longingly for the treat which he madly wanted to retrieve. But … there were other people here. Other people wanting to take his cereal. He could see it in their eyes. One man, standing in the healthier section of the isle, chanced a glance at Krew, only to be met with a vicious set of little beady eyes, staring at him, challenging him. The man immediately grabbed a box of Raisin Bran and fled the section of the store. The gargantuan man merely laughed a throaty gurgle in the retreating man's direction. That would show him to mess with Krew.
Then, a young mother and her three children rounded the corner. Mother on her cell phone, two of the kids where chasing each other around the shopping cart, while one lad, jumping around in the cart seat, briskly started reaching for some sugary cereal. And even though this wasn't the cereal Krew was longing for, he still grunted loudly at the child, causing the mother to pause her conversation and the two playing children to cease in their activities.
A timid, "I'll call you right back," was heard as the mother turned off her cell phone with a click and did a 180 with her cart, scooting her kids with her hands, a frightened voice saying that they'd come back another time.
And now it was just Krew and his isle. Oh, how he enjoyed the conveniences of having a whole isle to himself. Starting from end, Krew's eyes scanned up and down, looking everywhere for the chocolate-ly goodness that was soon to depart. But, to is dismay, he could only find blasted Boo Berry and Franken Berry.
"This is not what I came here for!" Krew shouted, his mouth beginning to foam once again, as he raced back for the front of the store, demanding to know where his cereal was being kept.
Backhanding a little old man out of his way, ring slashing the poor man across the face, Krew floated up to the cashier and began to demand his cereal. "Where is it?" he demanded, slamming his fat little fist down on the cash register, sparks now flying out from the machine, dowsing people in it's fiery rain, "Where is my Count Chocula?!"
The clerk merely gave him a look before replying, "Uh, it should be right next to the Boo and Franken Berry's, dude."
"Well, it's not, dude!" Krew emphasized with a nasty snarl, effectively showing off his few teeth and scarring the young man behind the register a little.
"Dude, I don't know then, dude!" Even his voice began to shake as Krew's massive form began to float it's way up and over the register to grab the poor boy's shirt and hoist him in the air to his level. As Krew's dripped over his face, the cashier began to feel his heart rate increase as the terrible odor of sweetness and decay entered his nose.
"It's in the back, dude!" was all the boy could think to scream. But it had proven effective against Krew who was now zooming to the back of the store.
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"Phew, they never give us breaks."
"Aw, c'mon. We're almost done for the day. Just gotta unload a few more boxes."
"You know, I think it's about high time I took a vacation."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah, me and –"
The wall and door burst open, barely allowing enough room for Krew to pass. But he tugged himself through, bringing the wall along with him. Spinning around fiercely, the bits of the wall and door stuck to Krew flew off in tiny pieces, cutting the faces, arms, and torsos of the two workers in the back who were just trying to unload boxes.
"Count Chocula! I need some! So hungry!!" Krew's voice echoed in the tiny hallways between the store and the outside. The men hovered together in fear up against the freezer, still in shock over the large man who had just crashed through their store.
"Count … Chocula?" one of them dared to repeat, only to be flung into the far wall by Krew's massive arm. He wasn't in the mood to play games any longer. It had been far too long since he had last had anything to eat, and he was sorely craving some chocolate heaven, marshmallows included.
"H-here man, here!" the other guy spoke up much more wisely, holding the shield of cereal in front of his body.
Krew's assault immediately stopped as he bent forward to sniff the box. Eyes glazing over in what seemed like joy, he immediately stretched his grubby fingers out to the box, taking hold of it and caressing it lovingly.
-xox-
"And then I calmly wandered up to the lad and asked quite calmly, 'I'd like to know where your Count Chocula is, my good man,' but he was so obstinate about it, calling me a fatty and other terrible things of the like."
Krew, upon returning to the Hip Hog with his treasured box of cereal, had been regaling Jak, Daxter, Torn, and even Sig about his adventure today, stretching the truth just a little.
"And then I said back to him, 'Sir, if you please, give me that cereal and I'll forget your indiscretions this day.' Well, he was so taken aback by my pleasantness, that he immediately surrendered the box," Krew finished his story with a hearty laugh, taking a bite of his cereal.
"Are you sure he wasn't taken aback by your supreme girth?" Daxter jabbed, resting comfortably on Jak's shoulder. Krew chose to ignore that question and continue eating.
"But you know," Jak spoke up, chin resting in his hand, "You only got one box. What happens when you run out of that?"
Krew's head shot up suddenly, milk dribbling down his chin as his pupils contracted into a small circle. His hand began to shake, causing the cereal and milk in it to go flying to the floor. And, in a great rage, Krew flung the bowl to the ground, spilling contents everywhere, as he flew back out through the doorway that Sig had been trying to repair. His screams, along with other residents of Haven City, could be heard floating through the air once again that day.
Looking after him, Torn shook his head, "Way to go, Jak. Now he's going to cause even more destruction."
"I know, but," Jak replied, pouring himself a bowl of cereal, "I just love me some Count Chocula."
And the group of four in the run down bar chuckled heartily to themselves, each passing each other the milk.
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The End
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A/N: I had fun describing something so awful. Too often I describe pretty things or whatever, so this was a nice change of pace. I hoped you liked it! Reviews are always appreciated, and thank you so very much for reading.