Foreword: LOOK GUYS I'm early again. :) And considering I was late last update, this is like...crazy. I mean sure, I had some bits written for the next chapter in advance, but that's still awesome with tests and all.
I really don't love this chapter. However, it has one of my favorite (and riskiest) sections in here...and in order to understand that section completely, you need to read mariosonic's Muted Malicious Mutterings of Malcontent. He had a request long ago for bit in the ball that timing couldn't work out, but we both loved. And being the brilliant author mariosonic is, he wrote it himself and I loved it and promised to canonize it. So here we go! The second bit in this chapter refers to this now-canon but unseen scene.
And now for the Disclaimer: I literally own nothing in this chapter. Not even some of the ideas. ;)
The koopa king was grossly enjoying himself as he danced on the arcade's dance-mat. Peach wasn't the only one watching him as the crowd gathered around his dance-pad, cheering with every trick. He spun on his shell, bounced from hand to hand, and his feet flew under him faster than the other people at the arcade had ever seen. The arrows on the screen flew by, blurring with each other to the point that it seemed impossible to follow.
Compared to the way he danced at the ball, Peach wasn't surprised, and was almost disappointed. But somehow it still caught her off-guard and she was gasping and screaming just like his new little fan-girls.
Bowser finished his song dramatically, landing on the left-and-right arrows so hard they cracked under his weight. His claws were raised in devil-horns and his still volumized hair made him look even more intense, if it was possible. The crowd broke into roaring applause, in addition to the screaming DJ on the game.
"Alriiiight!" The game cheered, flashing Bowser's ridiculously high score. "Das a new record! Ca-ca-ca-caraayzy!" Bowser grinned, ignoring the crowd for just a second as the game flashed a second phrase on the screen and his tickets began to stream out. Greedily and boastfully, he rolled them as they came and soon had a bundle that was almost hard to carry.
"I know you're all so excited to see someone with so much talent," Bowser roared, "but do you really think I should do another song set?" The audience went bezerk, and many at other game systems around the arcade (including the boyfriends of a lot of the fangirls) groaned. Bowser's eyes looked through all the fans to meet Peach's. She grinned and nodded. At her signal, Bowser swung around and put in two more tokens.
It made Peach much happier than it should have, watching Bowser dance so well and requesting her specific approval. She knew that he just wanted the okay to extend their stay at an arcade instead of going somewhere else for that bit of the day, but frankly, watching him was more fun than a lot of things he'd suggested. Besides, she didn't have to worry about his romantic advances if he was busy dancing…not that that was completely a positive.
The attention was still refreshing as it had always been.
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"…and, as one final note, I would like to commemorate Kamek on his quick-thinking and the fastest organization of a large and legitimate ordeal ever used as a cover-up since Area 15's carnival." The lakitu leading the meeting clapped, nodding in Kamek's direction.
Under the eyes and applause of the conference room full of high-ranking officials, Kamek beamed. "It wasn't much, really. Nice to be back in the ol' saddle."
"'It wasn't much' is right," Kammy sneered, almost unheard under the polite applause.
The lakitu looked at Kammy with interest. "Excuse me, did you have something to add, Miss Kammy?"
"Oh, not much. Just that I'm not sure Kamek deserves the attention he's getting from the board. It's just one event, after all."
The lakitu opened his mouth to politely reply, but Kamek put up his hand. "Jambel, I highly doubt Kammy's comments are a board matter. We can handle the dispute privately once the meeting is adjourned."
Jambel the lakitu nodded respectably, looking down at his notes. "Actually, Kamek, that was our final piece of business. It looks like you and Miss Kammy have the conference room to yourselves. Meeting adjourned."
Jambel buzzed out of the room, followed by the rest of the board members. They left slowly; talking amongst themselves about whatever the elderly officials thought was interesting. Kammy avoided eye contact with Kamek across the room, while her magikoopa 'friend' busied himself with the hem of his robe.
The door shut, leaving them very much alone. The silence prevailed for a few awkward moments until finally, Kamek said, "What's your deal lately, Kammy?"
"What are you talking about?" she mumbled, ignoring Kamek's piercing stare.
"This week you've been particularly horrible, and I've let it slide. It's hard when Peachy comes and steals your shine."
"What are you talking abou-"
"And yesterday, at the dance," Kamek pushed on, "you were more disgruntled than I've seen you in years. I tried to help you, but-"
"Help? You did nothing but-"
"And now today you're captain of the witch squad, and that is not a compliment on your sorcery in the least! I'm not the only one who's noticed it, Kammy. If all of this has to do with-"
"Oh, don't you start!" Kammy hissed, her chair jumping back as she stood.
"Don't start?" Kamek replied.
"You don't even know what you're talking about."
"Oh, I don't? So you're not moping about your beloved king and the attention he's getting from the person he actually loves?"
"Now, that's not fai-"
"You get yourself some crazy hope that he'll love you back even though he's obviously in love with someone else, and when that doesn't happen, you get mad! And lash out on others!"
"Kamek, how mature do you thi-"
"The koopalings, Kammy! The koopalings are still in pain from whatever anger you released on them. The cleaning crew is mentally scared from just your glares. And you just-"
"Now, you stop, Kamek!" Kammy cried, her wand tip exploding. "You stop this and listen to me! You have no idea what you're talking about."
"Oh, you'd be surprised how close to home this hits, Kam-"
"SHUT UP!" She hollered, blasting wraps from her wand around his mouth. "You're right, okay? I do have unrealistic feelings for Bowser, and my feelings did get hurt when he stopped paying attention to me. Is that so unreasonable? Yeah, I got angry. But I should have expected that. I've always known Bowser doesn't really love me; he doesn't even like me half the time. But Kamek, you have NO IDEA how much it hurts to be…to be pushed aside by everyone.
"I'm not just talking about Bowser, Kamek." She walked over to the magikoopa, trembling under her wraps as Kammy's firey eyes scorched his own. "Since that twit waltzed in here, she's been everything anyone cares about. Bowser, the koopalings, the servants… no one has time to even hate me! Bowser's fawning all over her, the koopalings are always adoring her, the servants are always bothering themselves about her…I shouldn't miss it, but I do! I miss being pushed around by Bowser, being teased by the koopalings, being honored and simultaneously hated by the servants. Even you! Even you, for Bowser's sake, are paying more attention to that beautiful, frilly excuse of a woman than you are to me!
"Maybe I'm an ugly hag and a completely witchy woman. Yeah, I know that. I revel in it. But I have emotions! And I freaking hate being ignored. Did you know I spent almost the entire night sitting at a table watching other people dance last night? While she was out dancing and flouncing around like the social butterfly that deserves to be squashed. I've never tried so hard to drown myself in koopale as I did last night, and I still woke up in the morning. I had a splitting head-ache, but nothing much worse than that woman has given me all week.
"And you come in here, accusing me of being obnoxious and witchy. And claiming to have tried to help!" Kammy stopped her insane tirade to cackle hysterically. When she turned her glare back to Kamek, her eyes threatened tears. "You teased me with your stupid dances, giving me promises you knew you couldn't keep, and call that help? I sat there, watching her dance with her fawning idiots; watching Bowser lose IQ points, ferocity, and self-respect every second her was with her; watching those stupid koopalings run amuck and being blamed for everything they did wrong; watching you enjoy yourself while I was miserable.
"Kamek, you did everything but help last night! And then…oooh, and then…" she had been circling him like a shark for awhile now, and situated herself behind his back where he couldn't see the tears make their way down her cheeks. "And then you danced with her. The woman who I hate more than I've hated anyone or anything. The one who thinks she has the right to turn my world upside-down. The woman who stole the only attention I ever wanted from the only people who have ever mattered to me. You did help, Kamek. You helped her break my heart."
Kammy sat down in a nearby chair, wiping her face with wrinkled eyes. She avoided Kamek's eyes, feeling emotionally drained, dry, and bare-naked in front of her closest colleague. That colleague looked on her sympathetically, capable of magically removing the wraps around his mouth, but unsure what he'd say if he did so. The silence that started as awkward soon became more reassuring. Kamek sat himself down next to Kammy, trying to tell her with his eyes what he couldn't figure out words for.
She sat still, looking straight ahead as she tried to ignore the tears that still fell. Kamek put a comforting hand on her back and around her shoulder, letting her head actually fall onto his shoulder. She shook, fighting back more tears. Kamek rubbed her sleeve, wishing she would stop crying, but loving that she seemed to finally release herself to him.
Her head was quite comfortable on the shoulder of his blue robe, her grizzly grey hair draped down over them both. He put his head onto hers, giving her all the attention she'd missed so much. The magic bands had worn off by now, but they remained in silence except for Kammy's occasional sniffle and the scritch of Kammy's fabric against her scales with each of Kamek's comforting rubs.
After a few moments of silence, the old magikoopa opened his mouth. "If it's any consolation," he said, "I think you're much more beautiful than Peach." Kammy looked up at his face, just over hers. He looked dead serious, and she smiled. "And I'm sorry if you ever really thought I was ignoring you," Kamek added. "I'm just afraid if I let too much of myself out in the open, I'll lose everything. It's easier to pay attention to the new and unthreatening than risk your heart with the one who could actually manage to break it."
"Yeah, well," Kammy's croaky voice seemed more strained than usual. Whether it was from crying or from fear of the unknown, it didn't really matter. "That was pretty stupid. But I shouldn't expect anything less from you." She snuggled closer into Kamek.
He quickly reciprocated, holding her tighter. "You're pretty dense yourself, hag-woman. We're just a couple of old, haggard dolts with bad timing." With Kammy's head fallen to a place so tenderly on Kamek's chest, he was afraid she could hear his racing heart. She could. She really didn't mind.
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"How do you think I did, Peachy?" Bowser asked with a smirk, leaping off the game platform with a pile full of tickets.
"You know exactly how well you did, Bowser. You're just looking for me to feed your ego!" She helped him pile the tickets in his arms comfortably, picking the loose strands off the floor.
"Maybe I am, maybe I'm not," Bowser answered. "But I still like hearing you tell me I did awesome."
Peach laughed, pulling the tickets apart to see Bowser's face as she added more, answering, "Alright, fine. You did…pretty well."
"Just pretty well?" Bowser roared, almost falling over as he moved to see Peach better.
"Yeah," Peach answered innocently. "I hear the real Bowser is amazing at that kind of dancing, and that's probably nothing to him. He wouldn't need to be pandering for compliments."
"Still, what kind of friend are you saying I just did pretty well?" They had reached the ticket desk by now, the goomba behind the counter quivering at the sight of Bowser's pile.
Peach opened her mouth to answer, but then shut it as she looked around, considering Bowser's question. "Actually, it's your turn to decide that."
"Decide what?" Bowser asked gruffly, dropping the tickets onto the desk. He watched in silent amusement as they cascaded onto the squeaking goomba.
"What kind of friend I am this time."
"Really?" Bowser chirped, his eyes bright when Peach nodded. "I love it when it's my turn. I think…I think it's always good for it to be the boyfriend's turn…especially when it's their six-week anniversary."
"Six weeks?" Peach repeated, laughing. "Aren't we the specific couple!" she laughed, latching onto his arm.
"Exactly how I'd describe us," Bowser cooed, playing with her hair. "You're my poochy-poo who always watches the calendar and celebrates each time we have a milestone of love and tenderness. Aren't you, poochy-poo?"
Peach laughed, always amused by Bowser's variation on a couple. "That's right. And that makes you the sucker…I mean muffin… that puts up with me!"
"I'm the muffin that loves you too much for his own good, actually. Plus, you're pretty hot. And wer're only seven wee-"
"six," Peach quickly corrected.
"six weeks in. Still getting the honeymoon heat."
Peach smiled, scanning the prize wall. The goomba had managed to get out from under the tickets and was running them all through a tally machine…the numbers were already high enough Bowser could afford almost anything on the wall.
"So, Muffin Man, do you love your poochy-poo enough to get her that teddy-bear over there?"
"Which one?" Bowser asked, his eyes moving to the giant stuffed bears, threatening to beat Bowser out in size himself.
"That black one," Peach answered. She pointed on the opposite side of the wall to the little black bear nestled between Superkoopa action figures.
"That dinky one? Peach, I could get you anything you want and you want that puny little excuse of a stuffed animal?"
"Oh, woe is me!" Peach dramatically slapped the back of her hand to her forehead, gasping, "I work so hard to keep my muffin frugal and protect his best interests…our best interests as a couple…and he never listens! Men are so impossible!"
"What? That's not what I was trying to do! I just don't think you should bother with such cruddy little prizes when you can have the real deal. I think it's a better idea to pick something better then that."
"That's the problem, Muffin! You always think that what you think is best!"
"Because it is!" Bowser answered honestly, almost breaking out of character. Running with it, he added, "Picking Scrawny the Bear over…say...that remote-control airplane is like picking a fat little plumber man over the coolest, hottest, manliest creature on the planet."
Peach sputtered a laugh, then immediately tried to cough. She ended up looking like she was going to hurl, which just made her laugh harder. Gasping for air, she added, "You sound jealous, muffin."
"Maybe I am," Bowser affirmed, smirking down at Peach. The look between them was warm enough to confuse the goomba even more. They seemed like they really did love each other, as fake as the rest of their display seemed to be. "So, you still want Scrawny the Wannabe-Bear?"
"Yes please!" Peach chirped, making herself look as sincere and innocent as possible with raised shoulders and a popped foot.
Bowser rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling. Just Peach's presence made him smile, poor choices or not. "How many Scrawnies can we get with those tickets?"
The goomba's eyes widened. "Much more than we have in stock," he whimpered.
Bowser sighed, planting an elbow on the desk and examining the prize wall. "How many tickets does the entire stock use up? Can we afford the plane and that wagon to carry them in, too?"
"Bowser!" Peach barked, trying not to laugh. "I don't want all of them!"
"You can hand them out to little children. I know you like little children. Maybe even give a few to the koopalings."
"I didn't think of that," Peach said, leaning against the desk. She looked past Bowser, a small smile appearing at the corner of her mouth as she imagined it. "You know, tough guy, you thought of that before I did."
"One of my hidden talents," he grumbled as he compared prizes the goomba had brought out to choose from.
"Kindness? Or Ingenuity? Or Charity?"
"Ingenuiwhat?" Bowser asked. "Is that awesomer than the other two sissy options?"
"Sissy options? Kindness and Charity are sissy?"
"Yeah, like being 'sweet'. It's not very…awesome."
"In that case, you'd probably say so," she answered honestly. "But I think all three are pretty good to have. And I do think you're sweet, Bowser…in a really good way."
Bowser was glad he was turned away from Peach, because he couldn't help his mouth from smiling like some goofy teenager. It was a compliment Bower really shouldn't have appreciated at all…but he definitely did. As soon as he was certain the blush faded, he spun around to reply. He smiled cheekily and grabbed her cheek. "You're pretty sweet yourself, Poochy-poo."
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Lemmy wandered into a large room, the big-screen television taking up an entire wall, and sighed loudly. He'd been looking for his brothers for what seemed like hours, and hadn't found hide nor hair of Iggy or Larry. And his tail still hurt from when he 'found' Roy.
Wendy seemed occupied in front of the television, her toe-claws propped between little white separators as she painted them a luscious pink. "Lemmy, would you like not moan when you walk in the room? Like, totally ruins the atmosphere."
"Sorry, Wendy," Lemmy grumbled, walking over to sit by her. "I'm just sad."
Wendy rolled her eyes. "I, like, figured that out from the melodrama."
"I can't find Larry," Lemmy complained, staring at Wendy's toe-claws.
"Then go bother Iggy, and like, leave me alone. I'm busy."
"I can't find Iggy neither!"
"Freelz?" Wendy asked, turning to actually look at her brother. Her nail polish brush was held daintily in her claw, threatening to drip. "Are they, like, together or something?"
"I dunno…" Iggy groaned, running his hand through his Mohawk. "I think they're in trouble or something."
"Well, it's not like Iggy and Lemmy would choose to, like, spend their free-period together. Did you check their classes?"
Lemmy seemed almost bored of the conversation, as his good eye wasn't even focusing on Wendy anymore. "Whatcha watchin?"
"Kamek's Cause-Play contest. Duh, Captain Change-the-Subject."
"What's that?"
"What does it look like?" Wendy snarled, pointing a little too fiercely at the television with her nail polish brush. A pink drop flew towards the television and landed squarely on the face of an unsuspecting competitor. "A bunch of freaks and geeks who, like, actually think they're awesome as King Dad and Mama Peach."
"That's stupid!" Lemmy roared, standing up angrily. "Is that why they're dressed up stupid?"
"Well, some of them are, like, actually good. But pretty much, yeah. It's, like, the only thing on right now, and I totally heard that Christian Pale is going to be in it. He's, like, gonna be the best Bowser evaaaah!"
"Isn't King Dad the best Bowser ever?"
Wendy rolled her eyes, returning to her toe-claws. "Well, I guess. But Christian Pale is, like, totally hot. And King Dad is like, totally not." She looked up from her nails for a second. "Well, I guess Mama Peach is supposed to think he's hot. Speaking of Mama Peach, have you seen Junior? He's, like, done nothing to help me in the bet today. Total sluff."
"I haven't seen him, either. I think maybe he's with Iggy and Larry."
"Now that's just weird," Wendy drawled. "They must be in trouble somewhere…Junior's supposed to be in class all day today."
Lemmy was quiet for a bit, thinking quite hard. "Hey Wendy," he began, narrowing his eyes at his sister. "How come you're not in class?"
"Lemmy, duh! I already said!"
Lemmy's furrowed his brow. "No you didn't."
"Yes, I did. Christian Pale is gonna be on the TV!" She grinned at Lemmy, looking quite love-struck. "That's, like, totally worth missing Old Mr. Fennslee's class. It's not like I actually need algebra in life."
"I thought Mr. Fennslee wasn't here today!" Lemmy shouted, probably a bit too loud as Wendy was right next to him. "He wasn't here for my math class."
Wendy looked up from her nails for a second. "He wasn't? Who…who subbed for him?"
Lemmy shrugged. "Uh, that guy…that koopa with the black shell. Mr Garlic or something?"
"MR. GARCIA?" Wendy shouted, jumping up and knocking over the open bottle of polish.
Lemmy looked up at her from his spot sitting on the floor, and smiled. "Yeah, that's it."
"OkaythanksLemmybyegottago!" Wendy rattled, running around as she picked up her belongings and took off for the door.
"Wendy, wait! Why are you going to math?"
She fumbled with her stuff, attempting to open the handle quickest she could. "Because, Lemmy," she grunted, "Algebra is, like, totally important."
"Oh," Lemmy replied, still staring at her blankly.
"Besides," Wendy added as the door swung open. "Mr. Garcia is, like, twice as hot as Christian Pale. Plus, I can touch him."
"That makes more sense," Lemmy muttered as the door shut, leaving him alone in the giant room. He looked at the TV, staring blankly at the interview with two Peach fans, one with Wendy's nail-polish spot conveniently located on her own claw. They giggled and spun around to show off their dresses, floating up a bit higher to reveal a bit more than Peach would ever want. Lemmy smiled. "Maybe I'll just sit here and wait for Iggy and Larry."
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"Remind me why we're here again," Bowser growled, looking around. The atrium of the Rizz Hotel was full of more Bowser and Peach copycats than he had realized were even in town.
"Oh, shush, Bowser. Kamek did a lot of work to put this thing together; the least we could do is support it."
"It's not like he'd know if we ditched!"
Peach took another step forward in the registration line, her finger pointed emphatically in the air. "Integrity!"
"Meh, I've gone my whole life without integrity. I could stand another hour or two."
"Bowser!" Peach laughed, smacking his stomach. "Besides, it could be fun. I've never done one of these things, and I'd like to see if I win."
"Well, duh you'll win. You're flipping Princess Peach. At a Princess Peach wanna-be contest. You win so hard, you don't even need the 'wanna' part."
"That's not necessarily true," Peach chided. "Did you know Charlie Chaplin Comma T. placed third in his own look-alike contest? And even if you're right, it's something else you can say you won!"
Bowser still had his arms folded, but his bushy eyebrows raised a bit. "Good point, Peach. I do like winning things. I hope the prizes here are better than the crud at the arcade."
"Those bears aren't crud! You saw the look on those kiddies faces just as easily as I did. They thought we were Santa Claus in the middle of summer!"
"I also saw the look on the faces of their parents," Bowser chuckled, "which actually made it even more fun. Nothing like creeping out overbearing parents! And that coat-check clerk!" Bowser laughed loud, gaining a few admirable and envious glances from those around them, impressed by his 'Bowser Impression'. "He looked like he thought we were the craziest coots in the world."
Peach giggled modestly. "I guess I'd be pretty surprised to see a giant wagon full of teddy-bears showing up in the coat check."
"Excyuuse me," the high-pitched voice behind the desk interrupted. Bowser and Peach had reached the front of the line and hadn't really noticed. They seemed to be doing that a lot lately. "You'll nyeed to sign heeya, heeya, and heeya. And pay heeya."
The clubba desk woman, awfully matched to her voice, watched them suspiciously through her tiny glasses. They filled out the information, talking and giggling as they answered various questions with answers that, while truthful, were most likely unappreciated. The woman took their sheets back, looking them over. She sighed dramatically, glaring at the two of them. "I'm sure you tyoo think you're soo funny. I've met more so-called 'Bowsahs' and 'Peaches' today than I yever have. But as long as you pay in full and accept your number, I don't cyare if you are the reyal deyal."
"Fair enough," Peach politely chirped as Bowser handed over the koopa coins for the both of them, trying not to grumble.
"Heya are your numbers. Keep them close. You, suh, to the left. You, myiss, to the right."
"Wait, what?" Bowser growled. "You mean I have to leave her?"
The clubba peered intensely through her tiny glasses. "Unless you both are entering the 'Peach' competition. Or mayabe the 'Bowsah' competition. But I highly doubt it."
"I don't want to leave her!" Bowser snarled, grabbing Peach's arm.
"Bowser, calm down and just do what she says," Peach chastised. "We obviously can't compete in each other's competition."
"But I don't wanna!" Bowser whined. "It's bad enough that we have to go to Kamek's weirdo convention; I don't wanna go alone!"
Peach rolled her eyes, getting an idea as both the desk lady and the line was growing impatient. "I guess you're too much of a baby to go alone. You need me to hold your hand because you're not manly enough. I get it. It's okay, Bowsy-Wowsy. You probably wouldn't do well in the competition with that whiny attitude anyway."
"What?" Bowser roared, looking at Peach in outrage. "That's not true! I just…I just…I was testing you! I'm the most Bowesery Bowser here. I'm so manly, I'll beat this thing in minutes!" And without so much as a beg for a goodbye kiss, Bowser stormed off to the left.
Peach giggled at his shrinking figure before skipping off to her separate line.
Bowser was still grumbling about Peach's taunt, not to mention upset he couldn't be with her, when he got in line. The 'Bowser' in front of him was about two feet too short, but had excellent masking-paint shellacked across his face. The giant spiked shell seemed to be too heavy for him to hold up, and Bowser snorted in laughter.
The 'Bowser' turned around, glaring at the real Koopa King. "I'm gonna win this thing. You see who's laughing then!" he taunted, following with his best rendition of an evil laugh. "I bet you won't even pass the preliminary pass-by test."
"The what?" Bowser asked, still visibly amused by the stumbling participant. But his competition chose to keep silent. That is, until a mouser judge walked by.
Catching onto the judging process wasn't hard. Especially since a lot of the competitors decided the best way to impersonate Bowser was to yell at the top of their lungs. The snifit judge would walk by each 'Bowser', make a few marks on his clipboard based on first impressions, and then ask a simple question. Immediately after the 'Bowser's answer, the snifit tallied up the preliminary score and nodded towards the exit or the advancement.
Bowser was in a foul mood that not even dejected expressions on the losers' faces could raise. And when the 'Bowser' in front of him answered "Who do you want to rule by your side" with a smug "Princess Peach, but only if she keeps her mouth shut and her lips puckered", he turned on him with a feeling of hatred he hadn't paralleled all day.
A thousand insults, retorts, and curses were flying through his brain, and Bowser surprised himself when he said nothing, and threw no punches. The snifit tallied the score and nodded towards the advancement.
"What the crap!" Bowser roared, unrestrained. The other 'Bowser' stuck his tongue out smugly, and then attempted to swagger away.
"Please keep quiet until I ask your question," the snifit said, dead-pan. He quickly looked Bowser over, completely indifferent that his subject was quivering in anger and impenitentness. "Thank you," he said, scrawling on the clipboard. "Now. Who would you like to defeat most?"
Bowser did not appreciate the question, especially in his sour mood. "Mario. That's what you want to hear, isn't it, hose-face? But y'know what? Right now, I'd like to defeat you, with your stupid little judgey-hose-face and that idiot you just let go who doesn't even deserve to think about Peach's lips. This contest is frickin' stupid and you're letting stupid idiot faces like him through. OBVIOUSLY only one Bowser can win, and you're wasting your time. So yeah, I wanna defeat Mario. But I'm going to defeat everyone in this stupid contest, especially all those freaks who think they can pull off being me."
Bowser was practically roaring in the snifit's face, but the judge didn't care. He just looked down, tallied the score, and nodded towards the door to continue in the contest. His mouth was still open from preparing to roar, and he let it hang for a few stupid-looking seconds. Quickly, he stood straight up and shut it, muttering "well, I guess that's good," before marching into the next room.
This next room was full of activity. Far more than one judge bustled about, four judges to a 'Bowser'. They carried measuring tapes, photo references, and even magnifying glasses. The teams seemed to swallow each 'Bowser' as they moved through the lines, picking at their hair, scales, costumes, make-up, and shells. The judging was much stricter in this room, and the process seemed quite long for most 'Bowser's.
It didn't help the judging process that this room forked in all different directions… "Koopa-Creature: high score", "Non-Koopa: high score", "constructed costume", "make-up work", "Exceptional-Over-All", and, of course, "Exit". Once a team of judges had finished looking over their Bowser, they hit a small bell and a final judge reviewed the clipboard and the subject before directing the 'Bowser' to their appropriate door.
Bowser's eyes were wide as he watched the commotion. At least these judges seemed enthused. But their enthusiasm wasn't appreciated when a team suddenly rushed at him. A parakoopa collided with the side of Bowser's head, a raven ran into his leg, and the other koopa and shy guy were yelling before they even got to Bowser.
"What the crap are you doing to my hair? Hey, get off my foot! Don't touch that! Leave my tail alone! Stop it! Stop it! You freaks!" Bowser stomped around, swatting at the judges as they chattered, trying to measure best they could. "Get away, wouldja? Stop it!"
"Okay!" the parakoopa chirped, fluttering away from Bowser's head. He chimed their little bell, and the team looked at each other with pride.
"Wait…really? You're done already?"
"You pretty much fit all our measurements," the parakoopa explained. "I haven't seen a copy-cat as good as you all day, sir!"
"Um…thanks?" Bowser commented, looking down at the bright-eyed judges. He looked back at his tail, whipping it away from the koopa still stroking it. "I told you to stop it, freak!"
"Sorry, you just have awfully accurate scales, sir! Not many people know King Bowser has triple-ridged scales with a line of double-ridged scales right down the middle of the tail."
"I do?" Bowser asked, not exactly surprised these judges knew more about his physical appearance than he did. Luckily for the confused and a bit creepy judge, the final judge, a dry-bones, walked over just then. He reviewed the clipboard, and suspiciously glanced up at Bowser.
"Impressive," he muttered, circling Bowser. "I'm actually proud of this one, Team 4. Exceptional-Over-All, please."
All the judges, including Team 4, left Bowser to attend their next competitor.
Bowser pushed his way through the bustling room, knocking into a few sad copies of himself and almost tripping over a wiggler. "Freaks," he muttered, just loud enough for a few participants to hear. One 'Bowser', clearly a female even under her mask and costume, burst into tears. This looked like it might be a long day.
Author's Note: I hope you liked this chapter more than I did. :) The contest I mentioned last time isn't going to be this boring for long, I promise. So that's something you can actually look forward to!
Speaking of which, NEXT chapter...that's interesting. Even with a bit of boringish stuff and some backstory for that shadow spectre, it has a longish scene that I can't bear to give away because I love it so much. SO much fun to write. Plus, it's a better balanced chapter than this one. If you felt this one was kind of cut-and-pasted together...hahaha good job you guessed right.
Anyway, here's to another early update, and to the most awesome readers a story could have!
-Razzi