Better Ingredients, Better Criminals; Papa Shauns (Open) Jul 25, 2018 16:47:17 GMT -6
Post by Majin Mumbo on Jul 25, 2018 16:47:17 GMT -6
Thread PL: 40,000 | Dai Majin (x1/x3P) Active! Current PL: 40,000/120,000
Mumbo strolled down the bustling city streets of Badman. It was a beautiful sunny summer morning, and things in the city couldn't be better. People were arguing over what gangs had jurisdiction over which mugging alleys, children were stealing cash from those same arguing thugs, and a nearby dog panted happily as he walked away from a fresh puddle of urine he'd left near an open wire. It sparked dangerously, but a nearby disgruntled construction worker kicked the wire out of harms way.
It'd been a month or two since things had gone well in that first battle, and Badman was all the better for it. Construction on Badman Jerkwad Park's new statue, that of the Stargoons giving a unified middle finger, was nearly completed, and from what the Majin could tell, commerce had actually gotten better since Chamil's aggressive takeover.
People were assholes now thanks to her magic, sure, but they weren't barbarians. Stores were still being run, there was an (admittedly rigged) election going for a new mayor, and most major public services were still in working order. Of course, the police were more than happy to arrest people for a lack of crime nowadays, and the local firemen's only work in the last month was setting a fire themselves. All in all, it was paradise for the Goons, most of all Mumbo. It felt like they'd really fixed something, and the Majin was glad to be part of that first step.
Passerby's waved happily at the Stargoon, who was wearing a more casual pair of black slacks with a dress shirt rather than his battle attire. He adjusted his rolled sleeves ever-so slightly, and plucked a chocolate cigar from the trio in the pocket on his chest. He chomped down eagerly, and a little puff of chalky stuffed poofed out the front to imitate cigar smoke.
"Hey Mumbo!" a street vendor called from the opposite end of the street. Mumbo turned, and hopped across traffic, leaning on the counter of the cart with a curious look.
"Howdy, Papa. Still waitin' on yer place to be renovated, eh?"
The beer-gut-toting Brenchian nodded with a sneer, flicking his thumb behind him at a dilapidated building. Egg yolk rolled down the side of one of the windows, and stray bits of pizza dough lay strewn about the edges of a blackened hole where the kitchen used to be. "Yep. Damn do-gooders snuck in and accidentally blew up my experimental radioactive pizza toppings, so I'm stuck with this damn thing for a whole month!"
Mumbo checked his phone while Papa talked, nodding every so often to confirm he was still listening. Where was everyone? Today was supposed to be their hangout day. Up til' now, the Goons hadn't even talked outside of work hours. Maybe the lot of them were getting cold feet. Hopefully Maple would show up, at the least.
"You's got's a permit, Papa?"
Shaun smirked. "You know I'd never, Mumbo."
"Good man! I'll take da usual, with extra sugah."
Without another word, Shaun got to work, cooking up some 'za in the surprisingly large oven hidden behind his cart. Where the hell was it plugged in, anyways?
Sando-itchi Chamil Maple Amber Cross