Quick Note: Although this wasn't written with the Kirby anime in mind, Dedede's dubbed voice was who I imagined saying the lines, so keep that in mind.
"I HATE THIS DARN TV SHOW" The Prince of Dreamland, King Dedede exclaimed to nobody in particular. He was flipping through the TV channels to see if anything of interest was coming on, but unfortunately, there was nothing but dumb soap operas. "How's anyone supposed to be entertained at… 9:00 AM on a Tuesday?"
Suddenly, one of Dedede's guardsman, Abraham the Waddle Dee, said "Sire, didn't your father mention something about going on a walk today? I wouldn't risk it with his temper… ". The Waddle Dee made a good point, his father could get… angry when things didn't go his way.
"Fine" Dedede grumbled.
As he was going about the stroll on the courtyard, Dedede stumbled on something small. "Was that a present for lil ol me? Making this walk worth it?" Dedede vainly stated. It later turned out it wasn't a present. Not at all.
"Hi, my name is Kirby! Who are you?" said the 'present". Dedede jumped back in shock.
"Well… I'm Prince Devilish Dennis Dexter, or Prince Dedede, for short! Also, you do realize this is Private Dexter family estate, If I wasn't such a generous person, you'd be flattened like a panca-.
"You want to see something really cool I can do?" Kirby rudely interrupted. He then started inhaling Abraham, who was near him to protect Dedede in case of an assassination attempt.
"Sire, save me, Sire, Sirrrrreee" Abraham yelled as he was mercilessly devoured by Kirby. After that, a Parasol popped into Kirby hand.
Dedede was mortified. "You- you murdered innocent ol Abraham in Cold Blood! Get ready for the clobbering of your-" Dedede stopped his sentence as he realized Kirby was dashing away at a swift pace- There was no way he could catch him. Dedede accepted defeat.
Two Years Later
Dedede couldn't believe it. After all this time, he would finally be king! His first law he would implement is funny cartoons on 24/7.
"Devilish Dennis Dexter, you are now officially the King of Dreamland! Take your Royal Robes and Hammer!" The Knight of highest degree, Meta Knight said. The small crowd applauded.
Suddenly, the doors busted open. "Hey, Triple-D! Long time no-see, good job on becoming King!" Kirby said.
"…Who are you again?" The now King Dedede said.
"Don't you remember? I'm Kirby, we met about two years ago, and I showed you my really cool Copy Abilities!"
"… You were the one that killed Abraham. Worse, you made me trip! You there!" King Dedede pointed at Meta Knight "You're my knight, right? Go and clobber that there Kirby!"
Kirby had to think quickly. He then saw the concession stand. Out of desperation, he ate all the Iced Tea. He also ate Ice.T, Dedede's favorite musician and the guest of honor. He felt a microphone in his hand that was very cold. He was an amalgam of the Mike and Ice copy abilities!
Meta Knight went in for a swipe with his sword, but Kirby just dodged by a non-existent hair. Taking advantage of the open window of attack, he sang a song… horribly. Meta Knight and everyone else in the room was encased in a box of ice. He then stole Meta Knight's Galactia and started hacking at the block of ice that encased Dedede. Very coincidentally, it was cut into a perfect likeness of Dedede.
As the effects of copy abilities only last so long, everyone unfroze. Kirby had discarded the Chill Mike for the Sword. He was trapped.
"For…. ABRAHAM" Dedede yelled as he slammed Kirby with his hammer. He had been thrown nearly twenty miles before he crash-landed in a field.
Kirby tried to say "Ouch", but it came out as "Poyo". Dedede's hammer had crushed his vocal cords; Poyo was now the only thing he could say. When not going on adventures, he goes to the best doctors in Dreamland, to see if his voice could ever be repaired.
If you made it down here, I figured you've read it. Thanks! Please leave some constructive criticism, this is my first fic and I know it's not perfect.
Also, thanks to LukerGMRZ! He beta read it, and without him, this would be... far worse than it is right now.
