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Post by Majin Mumbo on Feb 16, 2018 23:02:15 GMT -6
Thread Power Level: 8,500 | Dai Majin Active! Current PL: 8,500 OFF/ 25,500 DEF
It was a cold night in North City. Nights were usually cold in this part of the world. They were far enough from the frigid reaches of Yunzabit that it wasn't constantly snowing, but it was still near enough that frigid winds passed through the streets. Mumbo didn't mind the cold. His skin was tough enough that all the winds did was blow his antenna to and fro.
Mumbo slipped the phone out of the pocket of his pinstripe slacks, typing out a text to a dear friend. It was a bit hard to see due to the dim lighting; he had to pump up the brightness on his screen, which made his eyes go squinty. Slowly and carefully, each of his massive thumbs clicked out the message. It was an invitation, of sorts, to a get-together Mumbo was having with a new friend.
The new friend whimpered in the corner of the room.
"Ey Pal, can you keep it down. I'm tryna tink here."
He typed out a few more letters, before turning to his captive. Tied up in the center of the worn-down fire station was a tubby Kabochan. His mouth was gagged by a wad of Mumbo's forearm, and the unnaturally spiky hair of his was being used as a coat rack for Mumbo's suit jacket. Slowly, Mumbo pointed the phone at the older gentleman.
"Do you's tink I should say, "its time" or "come here"? I ain't really sure which sounds coolah, yknow?"
The Kabochan whimpered again.
"Yeah. I'll go wit its time. Sounds cool."
The text was sent across digital space, racing through the cosmos to reach its target. Maple would be arriving soon, and they'd get what they needed from this big fat fool. Though, Mumbo wasn't sure what it was they needed, exactly. Mumbo and him had already rented out a place upstairs for pennies a day, and it wasn't like anyone would stop them if they set up shop down here. Maybe Maple liked the formality of an actual ownership of this worn-down place. It'd keep the nosy lawyers and cops out if they had ownership papers, after all.
For now, Mumbo simply waited. He rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt, let his suspenders hang off the side of his pants, and took a sip from his chocolate milkshake.
And damn did that chocolate go down smooth.
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Maple
Administrator
PL: 80,000
Stargoon (x2P); Sparkling(x4P)
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Post by Maple on Feb 16, 2018 23:38:59 GMT -6
(Thread PL: 8,500)
Maple had a productive day. First, on his shift at Gobblers, he helped the milkshake machine get a proper flavor by pouring in copious amounts of used cooking oil until they received a healthy amount of stomach sickness complaints and a phone call from the county food inspector. Next, he cast a curse on his boss Miss Spachula who dementedly screeched “Happy Monday!” at Maple every week, as if Mondays were good at all. Maybe she thought they were, but she wouldn’t like them for long. The curse would make his boss have a feeling of doom whenever he saw Maple. It seemed to be working, as her once perpetual smile was now a cautious frown, and she rushed away to her office whenever Maple made eye contact. And on the next Monday, she would find herself without a voice. Acute pharyngitis for the next hundred Mondays. Is that happy enough for you?
On his way home, Maple stopped by Bao Foods and transmogrified every toy in the bottom of every cereal box into rotten eggs.
By these lights Maple was feeling good already when he got his minion’s text. But this was like, icing on the cake. There was nothing Maple hated more than a bunch of down-and-outers, a bunch of scrabbly underdogs doing acts of goodness despite their sad situation. And that’s exactly what the firefighters of Ladder 13, his downstairs bunkmates, did on a daily basis. They were all pretty poor, as far as he could tell. They only made a little more than a Gobblers worker’s scant wage. But they went on helping anyway, sometimes risking their lives to save the lives of others. They’d rush into burning buildings, they’d even risk their necks for some rich brat and their thankless parents.
Basically, they were the worst.
Maple arrived quickly, buoyed by a thundercrack.
The double doors of the firehouse burst open with a shriek of wind. Maple appeared in this shriek, a blur too fast for the Kabochan’s eyes. The demon surveyed the firehouse, all closed and quiet at this hour save for the chief.
"Yo!" Clapping his hands together and summoning his Rod of Rainy Days, Maple grinned widely. His pearly fangs gleamed in the dim. “Nice to meet the neighbors! We’re the new tenets upstairs.” Maples teeth seemed to sharpen on their own accord, rows of razor sharpness. “And we don't mean to be rude. Do we, Mumbo?” He lowered the boiling cloud of blackness on the staffhead periously close to the Kabochan's face. "But we'd really like it if you goodies piped down and found somewhere else to wail your stupid hopemobiles."
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Post by Majin Mumbo on Feb 17, 2018 4:24:17 GMT -6
It hadn't taken long for his dear employer-slash-creator to arrive on the scene. Wreathed in magic and bad mojo, Maple exuded the essence of a bad guy. It was enough to make Mumbo smile, and their captured friend to frown. It was hard to frown with gummy magic flesh in your mouth, though, so the best he could manage was some eyebrows raised very high in worry.
Mumbo ripped his forearm chunk out of the Kabochan's mouth, to which expelled a great gasp. Sputtering and spitting out some few chunks of Mumbo still left hanging in his teeth, the old Kabochan glared daggers at Maple, trying in vain to move the hands that were bound up with some of Mumbo's antenna.
"Bastard! You think you can stop our cause? The Ego Soldiers will never succumb to villainy!"
Mumbo socked the Kabochan in the jaw, spraying a squirt of blood onto the nearby wall. It clashed well with the faded stones. Maybe Maple would keep it there.
"C'mon Pal. We don't hafta do dis all night. Jus' hand us the keys, hang up ya badge or ya helmet or whateva da hell you's got, and we can forget it evah happened."
But the Kabochan was having none of it. He shut his eyes tight a moment, and when he opened them again, twin beams of Ki emerged! They sped toward Mumbo's face, but his hand was too quick. He caught the beams with his palm, squishing them flat with ease. Lenti, the Kabochan Ego Soldier, lost the color in his face. He really was outmatched here.
"You want I should gum up his eyes, boss? Might be bettah dat way."
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Maple
Administrator
PL: 80,000
Stargoon (x2P); Sparkling(x4P)
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Post by Maple on Feb 18, 2018 1:24:32 GMT -6
“Egooo Soldiers?” Maple demanded, squinting his eyes. They flared like twin candles behind his lashes. “Who are they?” He sent a small scroll of lightning through the chief to shock some manners into him. It had just occurred to Maple that this man was some strange variety of alien. He sent a second shock more out of curiosity than anything. He looked like a human, but when Maple flared his snakelike nostrils and breathed in deep, he didn’t smell at all of Earth. This planet was in this Age awash in outsiders and travelers from afar.
“What sort of… thing… are you?” He asked, kicking at his ribs after Mumbo delivered the punch.
As if in answer, the fire-chief’s fighting spirit suddenly ascended to absurd heights. Maple slinked back instinctively, raising his Rod in a warding stance. The attack, though, came against Mumbo. Maple caught the eye-beams as easily as a North City Narwhal outfielder caught a pop fly. Maple sniggered, sending the Rod of Rainy Days away in silent flicker of lightning. His creation was more than a match for this alien, wherever he was from.
“Not yet, my Gummy Guardian.” He knelt to the large alien, trembling in Mumbo’s grasp like a frightened animal caught in a snare. Maple’s long-nailed – nearly taloned – fingers spread out over the man’s broad face, an inch away.
The demon closed his eyes with a small frown on his face. “You’ve come a long way to this planet,” Maple said slowly, his fingers wavering ever so slightly, as if delicately strumming invisible cords. “You’re from a world named Kabocha.” Maple’s frown deepened, and his eyes clenched shut. Suddenly, he took in a sharp inhalation of air, gasping, dark eyes opening wide.
Maple gave Mumbo a light slap on his humongous arm.
“Have you ever heard of the Saiyans? They turn into giant monkeys!” Maple threw back his head gave a laugh of pure glee at this notion. “And apparently they rule a big space kingdom.” He shook his head, still grinning in amusement. “They weren’t big fishies in my time. But they rule his homeworld, too.”
Maple lunged down, squeezing the man’s throat. “The Ego Soldiers,” He snarled, “are this man’s pathetic little band of goodies. Some of them are on Earth, doing acts of kindness.”
Rearing back, Maple hurled the man against the wall, denting bricks and knocking a few loose. “Goodies like this cannot be reasoned with or bribed. Kill him, Mumbo. Make him suffer for being a good little Zookeeper.”
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Post by Majin Mumbo on Feb 18, 2018 18:04:21 GMT -6
"Tch. As if you don't know them already! The Ego Soldiers are-- GURAHH!"
The lightning cracked through his body, sending Lenti's body into a convulsion. Mumbo's jacket plopped off the Kabochan's head, crumpling to the floor much to the dismay of the large brute. When the bolt ended, and the next surged, Lenti nearly retched from the pain. Maple was really giving him the works!
Mumbo watched curiously. He'd never gotten to see an interrogation up close, let alone be a part of one. This was exhilarating! Maybe they'd get to do the whole 'good-cop bad-cop' thing, or maybe if Mumbo was lucky, double bad-cop.
As Maple stepped in closer, Lenti flinched back, trying to keep his own face away from the demon's as best he could. This thing made him sick. And not just because he smelled foul.
Then suddenly Maple knew where Lenti was from, and sweat dripped from his forehead. What was this guy?
Mumbo felt the slap and instinctively chuckled. "Aw yeh, I fought one of doze Saiyans once boss. Ripped his tail off. Didn't taste so good gotta admit."
Maple's hand flashed towards the Kabochan's throat, gripping it tight and constricting airflow. His vision was already dimming. Before long, Maple tossed the old man across the room, indenting one of the walls with the force. Was this the end of the Ego Soldiers proud leader?
The demon gave the order, and the Majin stomped forward.
"Heh. You got it, boss."
Mumbo's thick meaty antenna pulled up and around his shoulder, shooting into the man's mouth and down his gullet. He tried to scream, but there was too much Majin in the way. The tentacle wormed its way around the man's insides, ripping things that should never be ripped, and twisting innards around one another. If one looked closed enough, you could see Mumbo's antenna digging around from inside the stomach. Wriggling and poking and prodding and gripping. It would be a mortician's worst nightmare, but Mumbo was laughing all the way.
Lenti's muffled plea's eventually stopped, and his eyes dimmed. He was dead.
Mumbo retracted his antenna, wiping some of the blood and viscera off on the Kabochan's shirt. For the first time in his life, Mumbo's nose wrinkled at the smell of death. Most times it was pleasant, but this one was fouler. Maybe the faint stench of stomach acid pooling on things that it should never touch tainted the smell.
"Godda admit; not my cleanest kill."
The hulking Majin pulled a rag from out of his jacket pocket, and began to wipe Lenti off of his antenna. "So wat's our plan now, boss? Do we just uhh... take his keys and run da joint?"
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Maple
Administrator
PL: 80,000
Stargoon (x2P); Sparkling(x4P)
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Post by Maple on Feb 19, 2018 0:09:00 GMT -6
Maple’s ironclad stomach nearly rolled at the sight of the Ego Soldier’s grizzly death. He made a face, then grinned widely as a thought came to him. “I guess he found our terms hard to swallow!” He yuked a laugh and chortled, snorting loudly while gave Mumbo an appreciative clap on the back. “That was good, but next time play around with your food a little more. Make it a show.”
Hopping over the corpse, Maple agreed. “Basically. When I was rummaging through Mister Lenti’s raggedy sack that passed for his brain, I found where his articles of incorporation were. Won’t take much genius magic to forge our names on there.” He reached a broad desk, and jiggled the drawer. The latch opened, revealing a small metal safe. With a flicker of magic from Maple’s fingertip, the dull silver metal turned into a heap of sand. Wiping grains away, he pulled free the documents.
“Presto,” He grinned, dusting it off for good measure. “In a jiffy I'll write the proper runes for mimicry. But there’s something else I want to tell you. If you and me are gonna work as a dastardly duo, we have to be completely honest. It wasn’t the giant monkeys that made me gasp.” His smile faded. “The Ego Soldiers think they’re something called Z-Fighters." He pointed a finger at the corpse. “This one did, anyway. He’s even been to where,” He shuddered violently, closing his eyes, “where the Guardians of Earth lived. Ever hear of the Timeless Lookout? A disgusting place, Mumbo.” Maple’s eyes grew wide as saucers, and at the same time, his black irises shrank into snakelike slits. “It’s where that idiot who sealed me away was trained. It’s where he was raised up play god. It’s where these Z-Fighters go. Wonder why their called Z-Fighters? I don’t. They defend the Zoo, Mumbo. This whole Universe, all of it. It’s the Zoo.”
He clenched his fist. A subtle vibration thrummed through the building, then a crack zigzagged along the brick wall. “The Kaioshin. They watch from on high. You’re nothing but a wind-up toy to them. They broke my Tribe, but they didn’t get us all. Big mistake on their part. You’ve met one of their little boogers already, that banana-peel freak in slumland. But he’s just an errand boy. You’ll meet the real Kaioshin one day.” The crack splintered, forking like lightning. “And these stupid little Z-Fighters -- we’ll trash them just like we trashed the Ego Soldiers.”
The shaking stopped all at once. Maple's eyes changed back to normal. “Let’s finish this spell.” He clapped his hands together then began drawing the forgery runes with a quill that popped into his hand. “We have to think up a good name for our little operation.”
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Post by Majin Mumbo on Feb 19, 2018 7:04:12 GMT -6
Mumbo couldn't help but laugh at his boss' pun. Maybe he was created with the same sense of humor as this guy, but it didn't change the fact that it was a damn good joke. With good delivery too! It had that evil smarm that Maple excelled at.
"Right. I'll take da advice for da next Ego Whatevah we pummel."
For a time, the Majin simply listened. He rolled down his sleeves and slipped on his suit jacket slowly, nodding as he shook the last bits of innards from his antenna. Mimic magic seemed incredibly useful. He had to learn how to do it himself one day. Maybe Maple would teach him! Mumbo opened his mouth to ask, but Maple was busy pulling out the ownership papers and working his mojo, so he refrained.
His attention was on full alert at Maple's explanation. Lookouts and Guardians and alphabet fighters; it was a lot to take in, but his brain wasn't completely useless.
"Zoo, eh? We oughta pay da Lookout a visit some time. Maybe we can find the keys to the zoo cage, know what I mean?" Of course, Mumbo himself wasn't sure what he meant, but Maple could probably glean some idea from it.
Suddenly, Maple's anger rose from the pits, as his explanation of the Kai's began. It was a dark and foreboding anger, like the kind you might see a villain in a movie have. Mumbo's old self would have recalled reading about some religious cult who followed the Kai's, but this Mumbo hadn't the faintest idea. In fact, when he brought up the kid from last week, Mumbo sighed in realization. "Ahh. Y'see, I thought dat he was uhh.. One a' dose Brench tings. With the bright skin, y'know? Saw 'em at a club once."
So that was their goal, then. Beat the Z-Fighters. Whoever they were, and wherever they were, Maple and Mumbo would crush them. It sounded like a swell plan, but if they weren't already at the Lookout, then perhaps it'd take some time to work up to the right level of strength. If guys like that Namekian fanatic are just waltzing around, maybe the Z-Fighters are even tougher than that.
Maple refocused on the task at hand, opening up to suggestions for a brand name. Mumbo's eyes lit up. He used to be good at naming things!
"Oh! I got a few of da top of my head. We could go wit Zoo-Breakers maybe. Cuz yaknow the whole zoo ting. Or uhh... The A-Smashers? Reverse of Z? That kinda ting. Or uhh... Oh! Goodbusters! Cuz they tink they're so good and all. We'll bust em up; show em who really runs the show!"
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Maple
Administrator
PL: 80,000
Stargoon (x2P); Sparkling(x4P)
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Post by Maple on Feb 19, 2018 20:03:12 GMT -6
Maple chuckled with evil impish delight at Mumbo’s suggestion. “Yes… Good Busters.” He stepped to the long and tall window near the firehouse double doors that looked out over this workaday area of North City. Not quite penny town, not quite comfortable either, Ladder 13 was in a neighborhood sliding on a knife edge. It could swing one way, he could sense it. Oh yeah, this could be a place with neatly lined flower gardens and front yards full of kids and toys. Or it could be a place with bars on the windows and no trespassing signs. A place where even the World Police was afraid to go.
The tired old forest surrounding North City gleamed silver with winter snow. It was waiting for Maple, he imagined. Flinched and drawn, the trees knew he was here.
The firehouse stood on the hem of an old logging road, long-since transformed into a tavern trap which slung lazily down towards the city core. The Jingle River was here, a cold green band that struck through this corner of North City as straight and flat as a bronzen blade. It reminded him of the moat in his king’s old castle.
Maple turned back to his minion. “That’s exactly what we’re gonna be, Mumbo. Good Busters.” He drew his Rod of Rainy Days back with a silent lick of lightning and twirled it as a conductor twirls his baton. A couple of rumpled fire suits danced out of their closets, moving to an unseen music. With a clack of the Rod against the tiled floor of the firehouse, two black shadows broke away from the wall and ran into the suits, turning into a fine inky mist as they splashed into the fabric. The suits warped, turning into something like pragmatic war regalia.
“This will be our work clothes, how's the fit?” Maple grinned, transmogrifying one set of clothing onto Maple and then another onto him. They looked very much like soldiers in uniform with the beige battle raiment.
Maple drummed fingers into the stormy staffhead of the Rod, making it purr with thunder. “Something missing,” He hmmed, before his eyes flashed yellow. “I know!” He whipped the staff at the toylike North City Ladder 13 Volunteer Fire Department truck, shooting a blazing ring of pink energy into it. The truck seemed to absorb the color, turning from fire-engine red to the glow of coal in a piping hot furnace. The tires bulged, the hubcaps sprouted deadly spikes. The metal grill suddenly took the appearance of a shark’s toothy grin, and the headlights became cat’s eyes. The truck came to life, the engine roaring gustily.
“Our very own Badmobile,” Maple gleamed, watching as the muffler turned into oversized thrusts and the water cannon became a flamethrower. Gleaming like a demented porcupine, the Badmobile now sprouted more than a dozen laser cannons and heavy machine guns.
“We’re going to be working hard, Mumbo. I don’t want the goodies to win. We’re going to be teaching these Z-Fighters a lesson, and help anybody we can who agrees that everything is awful. We won’t be mercenaries who fight for coin. We’ll be Evil’s little helpers.”
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Post by Majin Mumbo on Feb 19, 2018 23:38:07 GMT -6
Mumbo simply smirked at his boss. Maybe he wasn't just a dumb mook after all. Maple wouldn't have made him brainless, right? Couldn't have if he could come up with good names on the spot like that. Hell, maybe he could figure out this whole magic thing on his own if he just kept watching the boss do it all fancy-like. Then he wouldn't have to be just muscle. He could help with the harder stuff too.
The Majin's daydream was interrupted when he felt a suit of clothes magicked onto him. He blinked rapidly, before inspecting himself. It looked pretty fashionable, all things considered; like something those space-faring warriors would wear.
"Fits perfect Boss. Feels very... Mumbo." He chuckled, before growing silent again.
As the demonic magician did his thing, Mumbo simply watched. It was hard to not enjoy such a spectacle. He could even hear some spooky, cartoony music playing in the back of his head as the firetruck transmogrified into the Magic Death Bus. Mumbo almost spoke, but the flame jet forced his sentence to devolve into a simple "Oooooohhh~"
With the peppiness of a child on Christmas morning, Mumbo hopped at the side of the Badmobile, and clung to the door. It shuddered at the added weight, but stayed firm in its position. As Maple spoke, Mumbo's hand rooted around the front seat, before smashing down on the horn. It blared out an ominous wail, which made the magic Majin smile.
"Sounds good ta me boss. Let's show these Zookeepah's who really runs tings!"
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Maple
Administrator
PL: 80,000
Stargoon (x2P); Sparkling(x4P)
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Post by Maple on Feb 20, 2018 21:34:48 GMT -6
Maple hmmed at the Badmobile. It looked pretty good. But it didn't have the pop and snap that his Turbo 2002 did. It was still missing the wow factor.
Reaching in his pocket, he took the shrunken sports car out, wound it up like a pitcher, and flung it into the fire engine of death. Both vehicles took on the consistency of gelatin as they smacked together. Growling out words of power in a tongue that no magician on this side of the galaxy knew, Maple ensorcelled the qualities of the sports car into the Badmobile. Its boxy frame shrunk into something with muscle and curves. Over-sized fins grew out the back, and though the car crouched lower to the ground now, the rear wheels seemed to double in size. Striped black and red like the bands of some deadly snake, the Badmobile now had the look of some billionaire play-tank.
An emblem now shone on the doors and back of the Badmobile – a Z crossed by a No symbol.
"Think I outdid myself." He flung a set of keys at Mumbo. “You can take it for a spin whenever,” He said, before throwing himself into the driver’s seat. “Wanna go out and get started working tonight? I’m sure there’s someone out there who needs the help of professionals.” He asked, pressing a button on the dash that said MEGA DRIVE. The car purred to life. The siren wailed, eerily similar to a nuclear plant melting down, or a bombing raid. The lights themselves glowed red – and, quite impossibly, black. In one moment the inside of the firehouse was washed in crimson from ceiling to floor, the perfect tint of blood. In the next, when the black lights strobed, the inside of the firehouse might as well have been a black hole.
A digital ticker, like the kind wrapped around the side of a stock exchange, flipped up on the roof, running along the rows of emergency lights.
“Whaddya say?”
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Post by Majin Mumbo on Feb 21, 2018 5:30:48 GMT -6
Mumbo hopped away from the car just as Maple had begun working his demon magics again, transforming the Death Bus into a slicker ride. Now this was something that looked like a treat to cart around town! The logo was just perfect, too. Maple really knew style for someone who was stuck in a jar for a few thousand years.
The towering Majin caught the keys in his palm, a delighted smile on his face. This was gonna be a blast!
With a simple nod, Mumbo hopped over the car, and shrunk himself down to fit in the passenger seat. The rumble of the engine brought another laugh from the Majin, this one more of excitement than delight. He was pumped to go for a ride. They'd get dozens of customers just by going around the block ONCE. Mumbo clicked the radio, and some heavy metal crackled to life.
"Let's bust dose goodies, boss!"
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Maple
Administrator
PL: 80,000
Stargoon (x2P); Sparkling(x4P)
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Post by Maple on Feb 21, 2018 23:59:26 GMT -6
Maple revved the engine, peeling out the double doors of the firehouse. Turning the banshee siren on, he flung the Badmobile into Turbo Mode and shot out into the air, aiming for the people in those dweeby little scooter bikes. He got a couple of them, and even managed to turn a surprised looking patrol officer into a fireball by heaving a green bolt of flame out the window, over his shoulder, nonchalantly.
Mad skills.
Weaving madly between the lanes, Maple revved the engine harder. A dark laugh escaped his throat. This was living.
“Where do you wanna go, Mumbo? Anywhere, anything. You pick.”
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Post by Majin Mumbo on Feb 23, 2018 3:34:11 GMT -6
The Majin stared out the window as they tore through the streets-- and a few of the people on them-- at high speeds. He had always dreamed of owning something this high-intensity.
His attention turned back to his boss, a curious brow-ridge raised. Where did Mumbo want to go? It was a hard question to answer, weirdly enough. His new self would enjoy just about anywhere, and his old self had no desires besides going home to watch movies or cartoons. He placed a finger to his chin thoughtfully, as a memory bubbled to the surface of his muddled mind.
"On uhh... Thirty Fowath Street. There's this little bagel place. Mind if we stop by? It shouldn't be far."
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Maple
Administrator
PL: 80,000
Stargoon (x2P); Sparkling(x4P)
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Post by Maple on Feb 25, 2018 12:15:29 GMT -6
Maple looked at his minion in askance, then lifted a shoulder in a shrug. If that’s where he wanted to go, I guess they could. Maple himself always had a fondness for sweets over anything else. If he wanted a toroidal-shaped bread, he’d buy a donut, okay? Better yet, a powdered jelly donut. Maple licked his lips at the thought, stomach gurgling in retort. Yes, a baker’s dozen of powdered jelly donuts, chocolate eclairs, and maybe even some maple-glazed.
It would be his luck if he’d made minion of the only Majin in the world who didn’t like sweets above all else.
Wheeling through air, dodging buildings and picking out targets for his laser cannons at whims, Maple flew on to the 34th Street, where this grand bagel place supposedly was. He had no trouble finding it – the snake demon had a keen sense of smell, and the rising of bread was something he could pick out with no trouble amid the normal city background smells of grease, grime, and garbage.
"Here we are," Maple said, forgoing finding an empty spot and landing atop someone’s brand new luxury hovercar, crushing the machine into a pancake of shrieking metal.
Hoping out of the Badmobile, Maple looked up at the establishment curiously before walking to the door and holding it open. “Servants first,” Maple said with a little grin.
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Post by Majin Mumbo on Feb 25, 2018 18:39:21 GMT -6
The Badmobile screeched to a halt outside the bagel shop, and Mumbo gave a soft, somber smile. He slowly squeezed out of the car, and stared up at the sign. It was an old, small little place, with a neon sign that said -GREY'S BAGELS- in bright red. A little cartoon bagel emitted steam just below the name, comical eyes blinking happily as the sign flashed.
"Tanks, Boss."
Mumbo opened the door to a dull chime, and the Majin working the counter waved apprehensively. "Evenin' kids," the older gentleman said as he wiped down the counter, "New faces are always a pleasure. What can I do ya for?"
For a bit, Mumbo simply stared, drinking in the scenery. The small shop was quaint and empty, with only a few tables sprinkled around. It brought back a few good memories for the burly Majin, but the biggest, happiest memory was the store owner. The wrinkly dull-pink Majin had a big bushy antenna-made-mustache, and a large white apron covered his hefty gut. Mumbo shook his head, chuckling as he approached the counter. He didn't skip a beat, and simply ordered an old favorite:
"I'll take da choco-deelite bagel with chocolate filling and uhhh... Chocolate Milk." he turned to Maple, a thumb aimed up at the menu hanging idly above the counter. "You want da same, boss, or should I get'cha sometin else?"
He waited for his boss' response, ordered for them both, and found a seat near the large front window while he waited for his order to cook. The wooden seat creaked in surprise to the new weight added, and Mumbo sighed happily.
"So? Whaddya tink of the place? It's a uh... Old favorite."
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