Cracking the Ice
"Fat. Fat. Fat. FAAAAT. FAAAAAAAAT!" The Ice King howled, poking Gunter's plush sides. The penguin regarded him with an icy glare, tired of being referred to as such, especially considering he was just as heavy as all of the other penguins, and ESPECIALLY because his master was only calling him that to coerce him into—
"Common! Be my work out buddy! We'll get rocking abs and score so many chicks!" The monarch pleaded, smacking his head into the ground again and again.
"Wenk! Wenk. Wenk, wenk wenk," Gunter explained patiently, patting the old man on the back.
"But I don't want to swim in freezing temperatures! My beard gets frozen," Ice King muttered with a groan for good measure, but then suddenly snapped his fingers and rose. "BUT, then I could cover it in sugar syrup, and disguise myself as a snowcone so the Princesses would lick me!"
"…Wenk?" Gunter asked abrasively, the Ice King glaring at him before patting his abdomen hesitantly.
"Oh, poo on you, you little tuxedo fiend," He barked, lifting himself off the ground, dusting himself off, and walking over to his telephone. "Do you even lift? No you don't, because you have little fin-things for arms. So there!"
Gunter narrowed his eyes, peed a little on the floor, and then sulked away, already having received more than his usual daily dose of non-senscial insults.
"…Er, hmmm, I could just call the emergency number, but I'm saving that for our surprise halfway blind-date… er, would that be a one eyed date? Anywho, maybe I'll just call Finn and… Oh, wait!" The frosty old fool exclaimed, snapping his fingers. "I think she's on that radio thing now! I'll just call that. The number was… uh… oh yeah, BUB-BLE-GUM1… Glob I hate when they put the letters in phone numbers…"
He hummed the Fionna and Cake theme he had been working on while the phone rang, and Gunter began making paper mache dragons in the corner of the room.
Eventually (after at least fifteen minutes of waiting, and the Ice King growing very disgruntled as a result), his call was picked up. "Hello! Welcome to Princess Bubblegum's weekly hotline, who are you and what would you like to ask me, sweety?" Came the sweet voice from the other end, and the monarch's eyes grew wide and bubbly and he giggled lightly for several seconds before he could work up a reply.
"Hello! Um, this is… drat… er, Ice K. Ing," He began, and from a few miles away Princess Bonnibel Bubblegum sighed in exasperation. "I was wondering where I could procure a tub of candy syrup so I can turn my frozen beard into a snowcone? Perhaps bubblegum flavored syrup, and maybe, say, since you're the Princess of the Candy Kingdom, you probably have some, you could drop it off, uh, alone, and you know, stay a little while… oh, let me give you my address…"
"….Ice King, I know where you live you lumping butt, you kidnap me every other week for Glob's sake," The Princess sighed, and immediately the old man had a bad feeling about where this was going.
"That's, uh, Ice K. Ing, not Ice King, even though boy, he's sexy huh? If only I was a hot, pink princess looking to settle down," The frosty elder continued, pausing suddenly. "Wait, does the term 'hotline' mean this is like a dating line or some—"
The line went dead, and he muttered, "Oh, pity, time must have been up, or maybe she accidentally hit the disconnect button… where's that emergency number…"
He began to pour through the small drawer the phone was placed on, finally pulling out a scrap of wrinkled, yellow paper and glossing over it. "Okay, let's take a looksie," Ice King muttered absentmindedly as he scratched his armpit, Gunter shaking his head in despair at both his master's tomfoolery and his own inability to create suitable wings out of paper mache.
"Er, no, it's not that number Jake and Finn gave me for when I want to hang out, "YUR-BUT-SMLS, jeez, with the letters for numbers again! Ah, here we are, let me—
DING DONG
The Ice King leapt onto the ground, the paper and phone flying into the air, screaming, "MARCY DUCK, NUKES!" After a moment he vaguely realized that might have been the doorbell he hadn't heard since the avalanche that had covered the front door. "Oh. False alarm. Don't worry Gunter!"
"WENK!" Gunter shouted in anger, having been hit by the phone when his master had tossed it in the air.
"Don't know what came over me, but at least I didn't soil myself. What's a nuke, anyway? Sounds like some kinda Mexican food," The monarch muttered, almost losing his train of thought and gaining a craving for a burrito before a pat on the back nearly made him fall to the ground all over again.
"Hi there!" Came a nice sounding, yet off voice from behind him, and he turned amidst heavy breathing to see a pale greenish man garbed in torn yellow clothes and a kind of cool looking hat. "Magic Man here with an exciting offer! I let myself in because you have a terrible short term memory and I have no social etiquette! How dandy!"
"Uwah?" Ice King muttered, scratching his butt. "Erm, you're not from Jelly-Donut's Witness, are you? Because frankly, I'm not overtly religions, and I thought taking the last three prisoner would kind of send the message… oh Glob. I completely forgot about those guys. When was the last time I fed the—"
"Wenk wenk wenk, wenk wenk," Gunter sounded from across the room, now proudly watching his dragon drying.
"Oh, nevermind, my little angel has been making them pasta every day apparently," The monarch muttered in relief, wiping sweat from his brow.
"How quaint! I probably would have left them to die!" Magic Man replied jovially, giggling menacingly as he finished. "And the only god I worship is our Lord and Defiler Hunson Abadeer, but I really don't observe the rites. Sacrificing, you know? Such a hassle!"
"Ooookay, well, we just went off the deep-end, huh?" Ice King said in a small voice.
"Don't worry about it! I'm just here to offer MAKE-OVERS!" The last word he said in a delighted trill, leaping up and smacking his feet together before farting out a purple cloud that flew out of the palace and began shooting lightning in every direction.
"Um, wow, really? I mean, sure—"
"Oh, no no no no, you handsome salmon! I was talking about your penguin," Magic Man said with a wave of his hand, rushing over to Gunter, who eyed him with distrust.
"Whoa, handsome salmon? Thanks buddy! And sure, knock yourself out!" The monarch said with a thumbs up, blushing and reminding himself he needed to right this down in his diary later.
"Oh, hi you little black and white goon, do you want me to make you look pretty?" Magic Man asked, whipping his head around rapidly like a pinwheel.
"…Wenk?" Gunter asked suspiciously, and Magic Man smiled.
"Of course I'm not serious! I'm a rabble rouser, doofus!" He chortled, then snapped his fingers magically, yellow sparkles filling the air.
There was silence, where both the Ice King and the dickish prankster stared at Gunter, the prior's face blank while the latter wore his trademark asinine grin, but the penguin did not move.
"Welp, you killed my only friend," Ice King muttered sadly, and before Magic Man could admonish him for jumping to conclusions, and assure him that death would come later, Gunter spoke.
"I'm still kickin' you frosty old piece of—WHAAAAA?!" The penguin clamped his fins over his beak in surprise, his master gasping while Magic Man jumped for joy. Gunter's voice was now (besides also speaking English) deep and heavy set, thick like dark-chocolate with a small undercurrent of honey running in its center.
"Oh my Glob, my voice sounds like sweet love-making," Gunter said, slowly getting to use to how irresistibly hot the noises his vocal chords were making.
"Oh! Me next! Me next!" Ice King shouted, falling onto his knees and kissing Magic Man's feet.
"Oh, silly, I only gave Gunter a deep, alluring, and manly voice because he's on the list of six and a half people in Ooo that I don't want to disembowel!" Magic Man replied, and then kicked the monarch straight in the nose. As his master rolled in pain, Gunter waddled up to the trickster.
"Hey man thanks for the solid, you need anything, let me know," Gunter said, the two bumping fists.
"If I were you, and I'm not, and you're definitely not me because you don't like watching people cry, I'd steal that Candy Princess right out from under his broken nose," Magic Man said with a smile, cupping his hands together and then producing a rainbow out of thin air. "And now this rainbow will never see its parents again!"
"…Right," Gunter replied with a nod, used to crazy rambling to the degree that he could more or less wade through the speech of the bipolar sad wreck of a Martian in front of him.
"I heard all about his plight on the radio, and decided to kick him while he was down, both literally and figuratively!" Magic Man said, slamming his foot into the whimpering wreck to his side who cried out in more pain. "And now I'm going to turn his buns into a snowcone maker! Bozow!"
Ice King tried to evade by rolling on the floor, but was too slow, and sure enough, his buns twisted into a very cheaply designed snowcone machine.
"Karma sucks! I'm glad I can outrun her!" Magic Man continued, turning back to Gunter. "You need anything else? Maybe a nice big chocolate for that Bubblegum lass, if you know what I mean?"
"Whoa, I'm kind of in a relationship with this chick from the Water Kingd—" The blushing penguin began, but didn't get far before more insanity interrupted him.
"HERE, TAKE THIS GIANT BAR OF CHOCOLATE ANYWAY!" Magic Man whooped, pulling a seven foot tall chocolate bar out of nowhere and dropping it on the Ice King. "But don't eat it," He whispered into Gunter's ear, "because it's made from the stuff! Toodles!" And with that, he leapt out of the window, leaving Gunter and his master alone.
"I really thought he was going for some innuendo with that chocolate bar thing, you know?" Gunter asked, looking down upon the monarch and then wincing.
"You sad, sad loser. You're lucky I've got Aqua, or I would be smacking some bubble-butt tonight. 'Do you even lift?' my beak, go do some crunches you tub o' lard," The penguin continued before shaking his head in pity and leaping out the window himself.
After ten minutes of crying, having little to no clue what had just occurred, and wondering if he should call the Princess's hotline to ask for more advice, the Ice King pushed the bar off of him, and stood up.
"Can't eat chocolate or my blood-sugar will burst… hmmm, oh, I'll give it to Jelly-Donut's Witnesses! It'll be a nice treat." He paused, scratching his beard, and absentmindedly playing with his newfound snowcone machine-of-a-buttocks. Finally, he asked quietly to no one in particular, "What smells like stool?"
AND LET THIS BE A LESSON TO DOOR TO DOOR SALESMEN TO CUT THE CRAP, AND ALSO TO YOU, THE READER, THAT YOU SHOULD BE A MUTHA-LUMPING PENGUIN, BECAUSE THEY GET THE BABES AND SOUND LIKE THE GUY FROM THE OLD-SPICE COMMERCIALS, MANG.
YOU HEARD?
Completely sober when I wrote this, too. Crack-a-lakin'.