Chowder Just Can't Wait To BakeKing

by Kartoonfanatic

What kind of an argument can Chowder and Mung get into? A cooking one, of course. Song Parody Story/Tribute, if you want to call it that.

Author's Note: This is my very first story for this site. I got the idea while listening to the song that this parodies, "I Just Can't Wait To Be King" from Disney's The Lion King (my best friend's favorite movie, by the way). Chowder isn't actually one of my favorite shows, but the reasons why I started with a short story from this series is because it does have quite the fan base, and with it nearing the end, I'd figure this would be my tribute Chowder: a series that has arguably been the very last decent one on Cartoon Network, possibly being the last thing that older fans tune in to watch anymore, and just maybe the channel's last leg to stand on. Also, I figured Chowder might be an easy one to start with, since most things in the show appear to be the definition of random (or it could be the exact opposite, I don't know). Seeing as Chowder is a show that loves to parody famous songs, I thought a little musical story would fit anyway. With inspiration from Chowder stories that others have made on Fanfiction, I hope that I've made something worthy of a tribute to Chowder fans. My only regret is that I couldn't find a place to squeeze Ceviche in, and that's a shame considering that he's one of the only four kids on the show. When you see text written in both bold and italic, that's the words being sung.

Just for the safety of saying it whether it matters or not, I don't care enough to find out, I do not own Chowder or any related characters, nor do I own anything relating to The Lion King including the song used in this, bla bla bla, I own nothing whatsoever.

The sun was high on mid-day in Marzipan city. Good weather, clear skies, no angry pedestrians on street corners yelling at snail-car drivers, saying "Hey, you dummy head! Yes you, with the head full of stupid! Get a move on before I file a suit-thing! Cause I've got an important job-thingy to get to! He-he, dummy head," just because they're late for work and can't drive … and everything else that stinks in their life.

Wait… okay, those people were still there that day. Sorry Gazpacho.

"HEY!"

Anyway, on this perfect day, in this improbably odd town, you'd think that every child would be out enjoying themselves, playing with their friends, and having a good time, right?

Your wrong, pal.

A perfect example of one of these children could be found right in the center of town, at a place called, "Mung Daal's catering," where a very familiar young apprentice is hard at work with his eccentric cooking master's orders, while his master was hard at work… well… giving orders, mostly.

Chowder felt sweat run down his face as he ran back and fourth across the kitchen. One moment shelling smeggs, another tearing-up bread, and stopping to clean up his messes here and there so he wouldn't get in trouble for a gigantic mess later. His constant soiling of the company being the sole reason for his new responsibility set by Truffles of tidying up after himself.

"Come on, Chowder, we don't have a split second to lose!" bids Mung Daal for his close assistant to hurry.

Chowder, panting uncontrollably, took a second to breathe as he removed his heavy, wet hat from his head and twisted the sticky cloth, unleashing a puddle of sweat on the floor.

"If we don't take a break soon, I'm gonna split…in half!"

"Aw, Chowder, we can't slow down when we're doing so good," Mung persuaded. "And we still have so much more to get done!"

"But Mung, we've been cooking, slicing, shelling, molding, filling, milling, squeezing, sneezing, and deep-frying all-day!" he objected, replacing his hat on his head."Haven't we, Shnitzel?"

The kitchen sous-chef was calmly stirring a pot at that moment, but glanced up from his work for a second.

"Ra, radda ra," he agreed to some extent.

"Aw, come on guys," Mung encouraged. "Where's your chef spirit?"

"RADDA!"

Mung and Chowder turned around to see Shnitzel gripping his rock-like fist with his other fist. One of his claws-which had appeared out of nowhere-broke off while mixing ingredients in the pot.

"Radda," Shnitzel sighed and shook his head. He headed out of the kitchen door to the bathroom to clean up his injury.

"Hurry back, Shnitzel! We're on a tight schedule!" Mung called.

"Mung," Chowder asked. "What did you mean when you said 'where's our chef's spirit?'? I have a lot of spirit!"

"Well, of course you do, Chowder. You love cooking! It's in your endless gut."

"Then what did you mean?"

Mung shook his head. "Oh Chowder, I just meant that you're a little too young right now."

"Too young for what?"

"Chowder, it takes many years to gain the honor and loyalty that comes along with being a great chef. It doesn't happen overnight! I can understand that a boy your age isn't so excited about cooking than a man my age."

Chowder was shocked. "Wha-what are you saying? That I don't really care about cooking?"

"No no! I'm just saying that you may not understand the commitment that this job requires."

"W-well, what about Shnitzel?" Chowder asked.

"He's different. He has to do this stuff because he's, like, a totally ancient adult!" said Mung, sounding like a stereotypical teenage girl.

"Radda…" started Shnitzel, who had heard his boss from the bathroom.

"I'm not committed? I've been trying my best all day! I don't know how more committed I could be!"

"Then why did you keep asking for breaks every ten minutes?" Mung asked, speaking the truth.

"When I ask for breaks, it's only for good reasons. Either I'm really tired. I'm really hungry. Or I need to see a toilet about a poo. And anyway, cooking practice can't be good for you all the time! I can still be a great chef with some playtime!"

"Really. Then what's the downside of all this useful practice for when you become a real chef?"

"Because I'm wasting my youth?"

Mung snapped out of his self-glory from that remark, but proceeded as if he didn't. "Nonsense! And besides, this isn't just catering for any old customer. This is Marzipan's fifth Centennial bash! Every citizen in town will come to the square near City Hall for fun, games, and a speech by the city founder at the end! The best thing is that, by rare public permit, many major catering teams will be taking part in making and delivering their own culinary bests, which everybody can try! It's the perfect advertisement, and it only happens every two hundred years!"

"Don't you mean one-hundred years?" questioned Chowder.

"No, I mean two-hundred years."

"Oh, then what happens at the in-between centuries?"

"Something that would turn any cook mad. Something… horrible."

The scene cut to a black-and-white clip from the last Centennial Bash. Hundreds of people were gathered at the square, enjoying the food and games. Then all of the sudden, thousands of wirbs fly across the square, squawking up a terrible racket.

"It's the Wirb's mating season! Everybody, run for your lives!" one man screamed.

The citizens took shelter in City Hall, leaving the wirbs to feast on the abandon food, and leave "gifts" on everything else.

Back in the kitchen, Mung groaned.

"And who knows why those long living burdens of nature only mate every two-hundred years or seem to need to do it here…" he mumbled to himself. "But anyway, this is a very important event for the town, and I want to make sure that we have only the very best food to present to the Marzipan residents. The better our performance, the more customers we're sure to have coming to our establishment for all of their divine cuisine needs."

"Uh, Mung," Chowder asked bewildered. "You sounded like Endive when you said that."

"Blast that woman and all her distasteful big-booty being. Years of her persistent criticism against my creations with that repulsive voice has left me to sound completely like her!"

"Do you think she'll be making food for the bash?"

Mung sneered. "No question. It definitely wouldn't be like her to try and show me up." He checked the clock on the wall. "Which reminds me, we need to get back to work. It's already past noon and we have so much more to finish!"

"Alright," Chowder sighed.

Reluctantly picking up where he'd left off, the lavender boy grabbed a mop from the corner of the room and cleared-up a spill he made about an hour ago. In an event which he would soon regret, Chowder continued mopping into the center of the kitchen from the corner of the counter where the mess had happened.

"Chowder, why aren't you-GHAAA!" Mung cried, slipping on the wet floor and landing on his backside.

"Mung, are you okay? Is your butt broken? I hope it's not the left cheek. That's Truffles' favorite!"

"Chowder, I thought you were finishing the forenge pies!"

"But Truffles yells at me when I don't clean up after myself anymore!"

"Well, you wouldn't have to deal with Truffles or cleaning or me if you were more cautious with spills and where and how you put things," he replied, standing up.

"I'm starting to get the idea you think I'm useless," said the inquiring apprentice.

Mung bent down to Chowder's height. "Listen, in times like this, I need my helpers to be at their best pace. I can't mess around with some dilly dallying kid all day."

"So you do think I'm a nuisance."

"No, you said useless before."

"What?"

"Before."

"What before?"

"What?"

"What?"

"What?"

"Well, I don't care what you say. I don't have to wait forever to become my dream. MY DREAM I TELL YOU!"

"Oh please, it takes years and years and ton of hard work and-"

Mung stopped short. From out of nowhere, a bright sounding music filled the room.

"W-wh-what is that?" Mung asked. "Where's it coming from?"

Chowder bubbled. "I-I don't know but I suddenly have the craving… the craving to SING!"

"Huh," Mung spun around to his jittery assistant. "Wait, wait, wait, Chowder, we don't have time for-"

"I'm gonna be a A-grade chef, I'll make food in a flash,"

The cooking master, now amused, decided to take part.

"Well, I've never met an A-grade chef, without a great mustache," Mung smiled, twirling his facial hair with both fingers.

Chowder picked up a spatula. "Someday soon, it's not to far, competing with the pros," he swung it around like a sword. "Everywhere, I'll be the star, defeating all my-"

PHUTTTTTTT! Chowder grinned awkwardly up at Mung after he suddenly let one rip.

"Yes," he fanned his hand in his face dully. "Very appetizing."

Chowder jumped onto the counter. "Oh, I just can't wait to bake-king!"

Mung snapped back to his serious tone as he began chasing a very hyper Chowder around the kitchen.

"Chowder, the chorus doesn't even make any sense!"

Chowder stopped running, whipped around and looked up at Mung. "It doesn't have to, as long as it rhymes!"

The music slowly faded out as the kitchen door opened and in walked Panini, as chipper and love-struck as always.

"Hi, Mung Daal, Hi, Chowder," she said, saying Chowder in a passionate tone as she batted her eyes.

"I'M NOT YOUR BOYFRIEND!" automatically answered Chowder right after, pointing down his finger at the pink girl, as if her very presence was enough to destroy him.

Mung gripped the tip of his nose with his finger and thumb and shut his eyes. "What are you doing here, Panini?" he said to the girl in annoyance.

"I came to ask num-nums here to a walk in Marzipan City park before the crowds move in for the celebration," she explained as she squeezed Chowder in a death-hug. "Since it's such a nice day and all."

Chowder struggled to breathe but managed to answer her anyway. "As gross as that sounds Panini, I'm already spoken for."

"Already spoken for?" Panini's eyes shot open as her expression changed from affection to that of pure evil. She let go of Chowder by the waist and gripped his entire neck in her hands. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN, ALREADY SPOKEN FOR?" Chowders face shifted to blue from lack of air as she began shaking the Thrice Cream out of him. "WHO IS SHE, HUH? ARE HER FLARTS BETTER THAT MINE?"

Mung sighed. "No, Panini. What Chowder means is that he actually is too busy to go out today."

Panini's face returned to normal as she slowly released her grip, allowing Chowder's neck to expand to it's normal size. "Oh."

Chowder, his color beginning to come back, narrowed his eyes at Mung. "Yeah! I've wanted to go do something all day, but Mung says I can't!"

"Now Chowder, we've already discussed this today. To be a great chef, one must put his cooking and costumers before playtime. He must know the importance of-"

"Bla, bla, bla," Panini interrupted, making a puppet mouth out of her hand and repeatedly opening and closing it. "Miss Endive says the same thing all the time. But where's the fun in never having fun? Sure, cooking is a blast, but not taking breaks to smell the roses and allow for inspiration can damage creativity!"

"But-but…" Mung stuttered to find fault with what she was saying.

"Yeah! I like being inspired!" Chowder joined in. "In fact, I think I already am!"

"Oh no," Mung whimpered as the melody returned in the background.

"When I'm a chef, I won't have to take orders from anybody!" Chowder imagined.

"No one saying chop this,"

"Now when I said that, I-" Mung started.

"No one saying clean there," played in Panini, liking where this was going.

"What I meant was-"

"No one saying add this," continued Chowder.

"Look, what you don't realize-"

"No one saying see here," both children sang.

"Now see here!"

Panini leaned in Chowder's face. "Eeee! I knew we'd singing together someday. Gimme a kiss, you fool!" she said, puckering her lips.

"AHHH!" Chowder screamed. "I'M STILL NOT YOUR BOYFRIEND!" Chowder took off running for his life with Panini on his tail, knocking over several things in his path.

"Well, that's unprofessional," Mung said to himself.

He turned to Shnitzel, who had returned from the bathroom with his bandaged fist during the last song verses. "Well, what do you think? Should we follow them or finish the food by ourselves?"

"Radda radda ra, radda ra" replied an annoyed Shnitzel as he stormed out of the room, who's words translated to, you're on your own, 'cause I'm staying out of this one!

Mung sighed. Knowing that he just couldn't leave the kids to their little rampage of the building, especially since he was determined to get his point of the story threw to Chowder, he followed them along the halls of the catering company as they ran just like cat-bear-rabbit children would.

They were still running all the way up to the business door. Mung, still on pursuit, dashed threw the front desk, where Truffles usually could be found, but was out retrieving the company's rarely used, but useful when needed, delivery truck from the mechanic for the bash. Suddenly, Panini stopped in her tracks and stared at the clock on the wall, causing Mung to halt so abruptly that he fell forward, onto his nose.

"Ohmigosh! I was supposed to meet Miss Endive at the Centennial bash ten minutes ago!"

"What!" cried Chowder.

"Oh crud, that's started already!," Mung exclaimed. "The food's not done yet!"

"The bash starts in an hour," she clarified. "But most of the caterers will be finishing up now. That's why I'm supposed to be there."

Panini looks at her supposed catering rivals with sympathy. She assumed, if they were to contribute to the event, that they'd at least have finished right now, especially since she came in on them when they didn't appear to be busy. "I'm sorry I stalled you guys. I had no idea, I swear-"

"It's okay Panini," Chowder broke her off gently. "We believe you."

Panini apologized one more time before rushing out the door, leaving Chowder and Mung to bathe in resentment.

"Great! That's just great!" Mung yelled. "Because of you and your little girlfriend's song fit, we're behind Endive and the rest of the caterers!"

Chowder turned to Mung. "You're saying it's my fault?" he asked with irritation building in his voice.

"Exactly!" Mung barked back. "If you would have just listened to me about finishing the food before doing anything else, we wouldn't be in this predicament!"

Chowder's right eye twitched. "Okay, first off: Ain't no way is this just ma fault, sista! If we had started yesterday like I said, maybe we'd be done already! Second: If you would have just let-up on the work and let us take a break, I wouldn't have broken out into a accurately placed music moment! And forty-ninth: PANINI IS NOT MY GIRLFRIEND!"

"GAHH! Fine! Whatever! Let's just get back in the kitchen and finish what we can."

Without another word, Chowder and his cooking master re-enter the kitchen, where a fretful Shnitzel was hard at work, trying his best to do what he could about the unfinished dishes of food.

"Allright, everyone, listen up!" Mung announced to his assistant and employee. "The food will be due in an hour, no exceptions! Get whatever you can done. Shnitzel, nice work so far! Chowder, come with me! We still need to finish topping the forenge pies with cream!"

Chowder sighed. He was back to where he was at the start: Taking the orders of an apprentice. Although he didn't say anything to him, both felt a tense feeling in the room as they worked on their input of the centennial deserts. When that was finished, Mung began slicing slawberries while Chowder placed them neatly on top of the pies.

Everything was silent except for the sound of a knife against the counter. Then without warning, the same tune that had appeared unprompted echoed back, just the same as last time.

"I think it's time that you and I, arranged a heart-to-heart," Mung chanted, observing his student but still chopping.

"Chefs only need advice from their teachers when they start," returned Chowder, setting down the bowl of slawberries.

Not long after, Truffle's arrived back from the mechanic with the snail-truck. Not exactly done well but satisfied anyway, the gang packed up the sufficient order for the centennial and moved it onto the truck. The head chief and apprentice were still caught into the strange debate of a song.

"If this is where the cooking world is headed, count me out! Out of service, out of Marzipan, I wouldn't hang about," Mung protests as he and Chowder load a crate of food onto the truck.

Unfortunately for him, when he went to step down from the truck, Shnitzel came on with their serving table, which hit Mung in the face in a moment where he was wrapped up in the song.

"My company was not made to sing," he sang, jumping down from the truck dizzily.

All of the goods onboard, the four cooking partners hopped into the front. Mung, who took over the wheel, pulls out of the drive way in front of the building.

"Oh, I just can't wait to bake-king!" he called to the open air with his head out of the window.

Truffles turned to Mung with a puzzled expression. "What's with all this singing?"

Mung kept his eyes on the road. "You don't wanna know, dear. Trust me."

In no time at all, Mung Daal's catering had reached the Centennial near Marzipan City hall. By now the towns people were beginning to show up, so the gang rushed to set up their table. Not too far away, Endive and Panini were all set with their booth. Their table was lined with foods that Endive believed were her specialties, although they were rarely ordered when she did have customers. However, even if her dishes weren't so popular, they had managed to pull off something almost as important: a nice presentation.

Mung growled like a dog. "Ooo, that Endive! How she thinks her food is so great. With her fancy plates, and that awning over the table-and that table cloth! Oh, how I hate her because she hates me because I hate her because she hates me because-"

"Wait," Chowder interrupted. "Don't we have a table cloth?"

"Quit your useless jabber, kid! We've got a table to assemble!"

Even with the clock running against them, they drudged on. And somehow, defying the crew's doubts, they accomplished an arrangement of food that they could actually say they were proud of.

"Okay team, we're done!" Mung announced. "Now all we have to do is sit back and hope for the best."

Chowder's smile wilted. "But what about all of the cool things out here? Aren't we gonna look around or something?"

"We can't just leave" Mung answered. "We have to wait for customers to buy something! That's the whole point of being here!"

"Well, it's not my only purpose for being here," Chowder huffed. "I'm going exploring"

As he made for the corner, he heard Mung call, "But what if we need you?"

Chowder turned around in a flash of anger "You'll do fine without my help!" he barked back as he vanished into the crowed.

Truffles eyed her husband. "Mung, what did he mean by that?"

"I-um-uh," the chef stuttered.

"What's going on?" pried the wary Mushroom-Pixie.

"I…I'd better go after him," he stalled. "Make sure he stays out of trouble."

Mung dashed out from behind the table and down the street, calling behind him, "Watch the display until I get back!" Then he too disappeared among the crowds or people.

Truffles grumbled. "We'll, that just leaves us, Shnitzel."

But Shnitzel was fast asleep on the grass next to the table.

Along the town square, Chowder wondered aimlessly, watching the citizens eat, chat, and play. When something interesting popped up, like a side-attraction, he stopped to take a look. In one, two twin hamster-like creatures made illusions and shapes with themselves. In another, some guy made a tower of cards-until Chowder knocked them over by accident.

"Uh… sorry," he said, taking off before he drew attention. "Wow, I am kinda klutzy. I could be more careful, but… Hey, there's Gazpacho!"

Chowder's long-time friend stood at the edge of a street on a box. A sign was placed over his torso that read "Come to Gazpacho's food stand: Where can be found the freshest fruit in Marzipan!"

"Hey Gazpacho! Nice meeting you here. What are you doing?"

Gazpacho smiled down at his pal. "Hi, Chowder. Everyone here's cashing in on the publicity, so I thought I could to. When people read this sign, they know straight where to go!"

"Uh Gazpacho," Chowder queried. "If you're here, who watching the stand for the customers you're promoting?"

Gazpacho gulped. "I guess I didn't think of that."

Jumping down from the box, the elephant man removed the sign from his neck. "Well, there goes my moment of commercialism." he said in defeat. "Whaddya wanna do now?"

Chowder thought. He liked being asked what to do. "Well, we could-"

"Chowder, wait!" Mung called from down the street. When he approached them, he was exhausted

Gazpacho's smile returned. "Hey Mung, how's it going?"

Chowder simply folded his arms and turned around so he didn't have to face him.

The fruit stand owner scratched his head. "I knew I should've read the whole script. What's going on again?"

Mung groaned. "It's a long story, Gaspacho."

Chowder turned back around. "No, it's okay Mung. Tell Gazpacho how you say I won't ever be a great chef until I'm as old and blue as you, even though I've been helping you out all day!"

Mung went from concern to fury. "Oh, that is it, young man!"

Gazpacho gasped. "Oh, Chowder! He dissed yo work? Oh, no, he didn't!" he spoke, putting his thick arms on his hips.

Mung gave him a glare, which made his regular ingredient supplier say, "What? That wasn't my line?"

"Now Chowder, it's time to stop all of this silly behavior and return to the stand."

"Why should I?" asked Chowder, facing him. "

"Because a great chef doesn't complain about his work and leave like a little baby!"

"How do I believe that?"

"Because I didn't when I was your age!"

"Oh, boy he didn't!" Gazpacho chuckled. "He tells me all the time! Every Thursday, Mung storms down to my stand and tells me all about how he's sick of everybody and the kitchen and how it was never like that in his younger days and…and…" Gazpacho looked at Mung with even more confusion.

"Your not helping, Gazpacho," Mung finally said.

The stand owner received an icy glare from both his friends as he said, "Ummm, I can see I'm not needed in this little spat," he giggled nervously. "I'm gonna go now."

Gazpacho dashed towards his place of business as Mung and Chowder's glare was now focused on each other.

"Say it, Mung," Chowder breathed with hostility.

"What?" the elder chef replied.

"Say it. Just say it. Say what you've wanted to say all day."

"Say what?"

"You keep telling me that being great at something comes with age and experience, but now I get it. You think I have no talent. No potential."

"What's going on over here?" asked a grumpy, rat like kid with a functional candle sitting atop his head.

"Oh, great," grumbled Mung.

"Hey, Gorgonzola," sighed Chowder, who's anger was beginning to pass.

"Why the long face, pudge?" asked the unenthused green boy, refusing to make direct eye-contact with the other apprentice.

"Like Mung told Gazpacho, long story, dude."

"And like you told Gazpacho," Mung added, "Tell him how you just said I think you have no talent. Even though that's totally-"

"WRONG!" Gorgonzola abruptly said.

"Huh?" both Chowder and Mung said.

"Chowder, even though I hate you more than anything else that a person could ever hate in the world throughout all time, nobody should be called a no-talent," said Gorgonzola in a completely flat voice.

Mung was shocked. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "But I never called-"

"Chowder," Gorgonzola said, putting two fingers on his shoulder instead of his entire hand, which he though was too gross to do. "Listen to me. All apprentices like their masters, but when they start treating you like dirt, it's time to move on. I mean, I can't stand mine, but he's never called me a no-talent."

Mung looks directly at the camera. "Is it me, or has this thing been blown way out of proportion? Please tell e it's not just me. Please. I don't wanna go back to therapy."

"Thanks, Gorgonzola," Chowder answered when he took his fingers off his shoulder. "But I think I know what's really going on here now."

"Thank goodness!" Mung sighed with relief.

"Mung's just jealous, that's all."

The famous chef's eyes cracked open wide. "WHAT?"

"See," Chowder began to explain. "He knows that in twenty or thirty years, he'll be dead and forgotten and I'll take his place. Did I mention he'll be a stiff?" He moved uncomfortably closer to Gorgonzola. "That's old fancy talk for a dead guy," he whispered in the rat-boy's ear.

Mung, now more furious than ever, chewed on his long, white whiskers to keep his teeth from grinding to bits.

Chowder was aware that his comments were only making things impossibly worse, but he was simply having too much fun to care.

"Yeah, I can see it all now," Chowder dreamed, the strange music returning for yet another time.

However, this time, everyone heard it, not just Mung and Chowder. All of the townsfolk stopped short of whatever they we're doing and listened to the music. Some began to bob their heads to the tune. Others smiled and even other clapped on tempo. Soon, everyone was wrapped up in the music, and began to dance.

Back at the stand, Truffles glanced around herself, perplexed . Everyone had begun dancing for no apparent reason, and it was just enough to creep her out.

She tapped on Shnitzel's shoulder. "Psst, Shnitzel, Wake up."

The rock monster opened one eye. "Radda ra?"

"Are you seeing what I'm seeing?" Truffles asked in a frightened voice.

Shnitzel looked around him. It took a moment, but after his eyes began to adjust to the daylight, he sat straight up, looking scared.

"Radda, radda radda ra," he said, shivering with fright.

"Yes, I think it's true," Truffles replied, "The sickness is real."

The two stared out into the crowds of happy people. Finally Truffles spoke up again.

"Come on, w-we'd better find Mung and Chowder."

"R-radda ra" he answered, taking her hand like a small child. Mostly to make sure they wouldn't loose each other in the crowds.

Things were getting even weirder back with our main duo.

"Everybody look left," Chowder, standing on the town stage, sang to the public.

Obediently, the large mob of people turned to the left in a dance move.

"Everybody look right,"

Everybody turned right.

"My food will soon be,"

By now, Mung was struggling to push forward threw the crowds to reach his student.

"Seen sitting in the spotlight!" Chowder did the splits while singing the verse.

Mung shoved his body threw the mass of dancers. "NOT yet!" he breathed lividly.

"May it be chicken, beef, or even fish," Everyone made the different shapes of the foods they spoke of from above as they danced around and around.

"The food that's always been your oddest wish," The tallest people in the horde lifted him up on a silver plate.

"Is gonna be chef Chowder's finest dish," Chowder held his spatula, which he still had with him from that morning, up to the setting sky.

"Oh, I just can't wait to bake-king!"

"Oh, I just can't wait to bake-king!"

"Oh, I just can't waaaaait…"

"TO BAKE-KING!" the chorus roared.

"EEEEEEEENNNNNNOUGH!" hollered Mung at the top of his lungs.

All of the townspeople's focus was sent directly to the seething chef with that last outburst. The aged man's sky blue face appeared to be red with rage.

Poor Chowder, his blue eyes broad with dread, was obliged to come forth of his tutor, dragging his tail all the way. It was also then that Truffles and Shnitzel, who had seen the busy conclusion of the song, finally appeared out of the mess of people to reunite with the other end of the team.

"Chowder," spoke a fuming Mung. "I would have never believed in all the years that I've known you that I would ever say this, but I am very disappointed by your actions today. I thought I had taught you better than to be as irresponsible and reckless as you've been today. I mean, look around you! Here we are, at what was supposed to be a great celebration for our city, and you've gone and turned it into…into…"

"Into the best Marzipan City Centennial ever!"

Every citizen turned to see who said answered Mung's rave on Chowder. Behold, a elderly food-like creature with a top-hat and cane stepped forward. It was none other than the founder of Marzipan City!

"My good man, your son's outburst of song has brought a new joy to our proud city's Centennial. Music and dancing is just what this annual celebration has always needed!"

Mung was baffled. "W-w-well that very nice, b-but Chowder's not actually m-"

"That does it!" said the senior. "From this day forward, every major party in Marzipan City will have the new festivities that this one has had today."

The citizens cheered for the new cause. It would be a day to go down in the city's history. The cooking team stood and watched from the center of the square as crowds of people, who had just worn themselves out, made their way down main street in a sudden rush.

"Where is everybody going?" asked a confused Chowder.

"I don't know, let's go find out," Truffles answered.

The gang followed the townspeople for what seemed like forever. When they were nearing the docks, The sun was going down, and a beautiful horizon formed out on the sea.

Mung gasped. "Oh my gosh, it's the best part! It's the best part of the day!"

"I thought advertising our food was the best part," Chowder recalled.

"Well, I lied Chowder. Sometimes the best pat of a celebration can only be the last part."

"What's that?"

SCREEEEEEEEECH! A gigantic fireball shot into the sky, followed by a far-away POP! And an explosion of color.

"Wow! Fireworks!" exclaimed a now smiling Chowder.

"And not a pesky wirb in sight," Mung said with his hand shielding the light of the fireworks from reflecting on his glasses.

Everyone in town watched the brilliant display of colors light up the sky with many oooh's and ahhh's to be heard. Sometime later, although Chowder didn't notice because he was too busy admiring the fireworks, Panini had come up behind him. Either totally unaware of her presence or just lack of caring at that moment, Panini saw and took an opportunity to lightly take hold of his hand. She waited for him to yell "THE PAIN!" or something of that sort, but he didn't. His eyes were glued to the sky and stars, and it wasn't long before Panini's eyes were captivated by them as well. As strange as it seems, neither child paid any mind that their hands were grasping for the entire rest of the show.

When Mung's catering team returned later that night, not one of them could admit they had a great time, even though the celebration was wonderful. Shnitzel wearily uttered a "Radda," and made for his home. Truffles went straight to bed, which left Mung and Chowder to talk before turning in.

"Um, Chowder," Mung finally said.

"Yeah?" Chowder replied, slipping into his PJs.

"About what I said at the square…"

"Mung?"

"Yes?" Mung turned from Chowder's doorway.

"I forgive you."

Mung placed a hand over his heart and exhaled loudly. "Oh, thank gosh! Oh boy, how awkward would that have been if I had to explain all that gushy apology stuff? Fhewww!" The head chef wiped his forehead.

"But I meant what I said in the song."

"You did?" Mung asked nervously.

"Well, sure," Chowder began. "I love cooking more than anything and I know I will be a famous cook one day, but until then, I figure I shouldn't be so serious about it, you know? Like I can think of it more as my greatest dream than my greatest job choice."

"But Chowder, we're back where we started!" Mung complained. "In order to be the best at anything, one must practice, practice, practice-"

"Well I know that," Chowder cut him off. "And I kind of already do. I like mixing up new ideas of recipes and testing them out."

"That…that you do, Chowder," Mung confirmed. "Hey, how did that whole fight get started, anyway?"

"Beats me," Chowder replied, getting into bed. "That was way back at the beginning of the episode."

"Let's just forget the blame and pretend it never happened." Mung settled.

"Okay" Chowder agreed as Mung tucked him in. "And don't worry Mung. You taught me that I have tolearn some more things before I become a great chef."

"But Chowder, my boy, you already are a great chef," Mung smiled. "You've been a great chef as long as I've known you because you do exactly what I've always said to do: Put creativity and heart into whatever you do, and it's time I practice what I preach, especially by helping out more with the boring chores in the kitchen."

Chowder grinned fondly. "Thanks, Mung."

"No Chowder, thank you. Thank you for being my inspiration each and every day." And with that, Mung gently shut the door.

Chowder yawned and snuggled deeper into his blanket. A moment later, he turned his head to face a cage where his pet stink cloud was sleeping soundly.

"Kimchi?" he murmurs.

"Phuttttt?" the pet spoke, his eyes slightly opening.

"I take back what I said. I'm glad I'm Mung's apprentice. He's the greatest guy I've ever known."

Chowder yawned again. "You know, I've known him for so long it… it seems like… for-forever."

As the young apprentice began to drift away to slumber, these were his final words.

"He'll always be… like a…"

"…like a dad to me."

And then he was asleep.

Well, that's the end. Cheesy? Probably. If you choose to leave a review or just a comment, please know that I appreciate both types, good or bad, especially constructive criticism. Anyway I can improve my writing is helpful. And please, let me know if I strayed out-of-character, because I worried more about that when writing this than anything else. I hope you've enjoyed. My next story is my version of a Spongebob Squarepants finale. With any luck, it should be done and up by, oh, I don't know, hopefully THIS YEAR!

Yeah… it's a lot longer that this…well, as my old Leapfrog interactive globe says, goodbye for now!