Videoland was a great place. Anything and everything could happen here. It's what King Hippo loved about it. Oh sure, Gameshark had annihilated this and that, but as long as there was hope...as long as there were dreams...there would be happiness.
And as the enormous boxer flew through the air aboard his oversized Go-Kart made completely out of Twinkies, he knew what happiness was. The other racers stared in awe, overshadowed by the mighty king. His shadow blotted out the sun, and his loud cry of "Yeeeeeeeeehaaaaaaaaawwwww!" echoed through the stands. It was a glorious finish. He'd hit the ramp just right, the momentum propelling him forward, above, beyond!
And boy, was Little Mac pissed off, his little pasty face scrunched up in obvious agitation. He'd been so close to securing the gold cup for himself. But it was King Hippo who claimed the prize, his car breaking the frail white ribbon while the Koopas cheered and Lakitu snapped the checkered flag back and forth. Everyone was happy.
Except Little Mac. Ha ha!
A silk ribbon with 'GRAND CHAMPION!' embroidered in gold thread was draped over his shoulder, a bouquet of chocolate roses placed within the cradle of his tender arms. And on his head a marzipan crown. People threw candy into the air, cheering, chanting his name.
"Hip-po!" "Hip-po!" "Hip-po!"
He just waved a boxing glove in the air, pausing to take a bite of his delicious sponge-cake go-kart.
And spat out ash.
The cheering faded into the sound of wind whistling over the plains. The Koopas disappeared. So did the candy. But ah...it was a nice dream. One of the nicest he'd had in a while. So he wasn't going to complain.
Yawning, King Hippo rolled onto his side and reached a gloved hand back to scratch at his behind. That felt pretty good too. So he kept scratching and yawning, ignoring the hunger pangs that gnawed at his belly. He saw a Burger Time hot dog dash to the left out of the corner of his eye, but he paid it no heed. Gameshark had expected King Hippo to resort to eating them eventually, as well as the Mushroom People that he'd banished to this particular Prison Zone.
But he never did.
There was plenty of food lying about, but it was all just a ruse. Whatever King Hippo put in his mouth turned to ash, just like the old curses of Egyptian days. Oh sure, it was enough to survive, but it tasted worse than moon cheese. And that stuff was pretty bad. Yes, there were times when he wished for a wandering pickle or mushroom to NOT be animated and alive and possessing of a face or other human characteristics. But wishing got him nothing. Not once had he even been tempted to devour one of these creatures. It was one thing to eat a hamburger made from a cow. It was another thing to eat a hamburger made from a talking civilized cow. Such was the case here.
"Death is too good for you," Gameshark had sneered. "You killed my couch...486 times. I want to see you suffer."
So here he was. Hungry. Always hungry. He was FAMISHED. He plucked up a candy cane from the ground, shoving it quickly into his mouth. It crumbled, the sticky candy texture dissolving into gritty sand that tasted of smoke and ick. He had to eat fast in order to stomach it, and it took every ounce of willpower he possessed to swallow. But hey, he was alive, so he wouldn't complain.
Not anymore, that is, being as he'd whined a good two months straight the moment he'd been dumped here.
Rolling to his feet, his mighty shoulders heaved a sigh and sagged again. Welp! Another day, another donut. Even if it did turn to ash. He gave his mouth a couple of dry smacks and plodded towards the river. At least water didn't change into anything nasty, and he could drink his fill.
"I'm goin' to the dogs..." he grumbled, Mushrooms skittering quickly out of his path. "I musta lost two pounds already..."
And as the enormous boxer flew through the air aboard his oversized Go-Kart made completely out of Twinkies, he knew what happiness was. The other racers stared in awe, overshadowed by the mighty king. His shadow blotted out the sun, and his loud cry of "Yeeeeeeeeehaaaaaaaaawwwww!" echoed through the stands. It was a glorious finish. He'd hit the ramp just right, the momentum propelling him forward, above, beyond!
And boy, was Little Mac pissed off, his little pasty face scrunched up in obvious agitation. He'd been so close to securing the gold cup for himself. But it was King Hippo who claimed the prize, his car breaking the frail white ribbon while the Koopas cheered and Lakitu snapped the checkered flag back and forth. Everyone was happy.
Except Little Mac. Ha ha!
A silk ribbon with 'GRAND CHAMPION!' embroidered in gold thread was draped over his shoulder, a bouquet of chocolate roses placed within the cradle of his tender arms. And on his head a marzipan crown. People threw candy into the air, cheering, chanting his name.
"Hip-po!" "Hip-po!" "Hip-po!"
He just waved a boxing glove in the air, pausing to take a bite of his delicious sponge-cake go-kart.
And spat out ash.
The cheering faded into the sound of wind whistling over the plains. The Koopas disappeared. So did the candy. But ah...it was a nice dream. One of the nicest he'd had in a while. So he wasn't going to complain.
Yawning, King Hippo rolled onto his side and reached a gloved hand back to scratch at his behind. That felt pretty good too. So he kept scratching and yawning, ignoring the hunger pangs that gnawed at his belly. He saw a Burger Time hot dog dash to the left out of the corner of his eye, but he paid it no heed. Gameshark had expected King Hippo to resort to eating them eventually, as well as the Mushroom People that he'd banished to this particular Prison Zone.
But he never did.
There was plenty of food lying about, but it was all just a ruse. Whatever King Hippo put in his mouth turned to ash, just like the old curses of Egyptian days. Oh sure, it was enough to survive, but it tasted worse than moon cheese. And that stuff was pretty bad. Yes, there were times when he wished for a wandering pickle or mushroom to NOT be animated and alive and possessing of a face or other human characteristics. But wishing got him nothing. Not once had he even been tempted to devour one of these creatures. It was one thing to eat a hamburger made from a cow. It was another thing to eat a hamburger made from a talking civilized cow. Such was the case here.
"Death is too good for you," Gameshark had sneered. "You killed my couch...486 times. I want to see you suffer."
So here he was. Hungry. Always hungry. He was FAMISHED. He plucked up a candy cane from the ground, shoving it quickly into his mouth. It crumbled, the sticky candy texture dissolving into gritty sand that tasted of smoke and ick. He had to eat fast in order to stomach it, and it took every ounce of willpower he possessed to swallow. But hey, he was alive, so he wouldn't complain.
Not anymore, that is, being as he'd whined a good two months straight the moment he'd been dumped here.
Rolling to his feet, his mighty shoulders heaved a sigh and sagged again. Welp! Another day, another donut. Even if it did turn to ash. He gave his mouth a couple of dry smacks and plodded towards the river. At least water didn't change into anything nasty, and he could drink his fill.
"I'm goin' to the dogs..." he grumbled, Mushrooms skittering quickly out of his path. "I musta lost two pounds already..."