A gentle breeze swept over rolling knolls as tranquility was in the air. Rotund shapes called Dream Landers lazily rested about the hills, under trees, in the trees, in houses, on rocks, while walking... they rested everywhere, actually, since they were Dream Landers. Sloth and gluttony were their pride. That's three out of the seven without even trying, which they never did, either. The fourth meal of the day had just been wrapped up, so the citizens were resting up for the next five. Those were the big ones, after all. On this day, the residents should not have been so lazy, however. It was the dawning of an annual tradition: the race to the place to feed your face, Rumbl-o-Rama.
Every year, the grand contest was held to seek out one of the Legendary Dairy Products of Lore from the Hairy Dairy Fairy that was sent away to some unknown location in order to crown a new champion. Hundreds of contestants from all over Dream Land would gather for a shot at the title and the cheese, ready to dash, battle, struggle, cheat, and do whatever it took to win, but that was a matter of the past. With as much as the Dream Landers loved competitions, times had changed. These big, yearly events were less spectacular when the same individual won each time. But, like they did before, they were about to change again. As a psychotic clown dreamed peacefully up in the branches of a sleeping tree, he was abruptly awakened by what came over the horizon.
"Hurry!" a shrill shriek echoed over the mounds and through the plains. The noise startled the young Poppy, tumbling him from his resting place and landing him atop a cyclops. Only the bomber and the Waddle Doo were awakened by the cries. Some others may have been stirred but did not care enough to remain so. Looking for the source to direct their anger, they saw a brown pudge running over the top of the hill. ... Well, waddling. The Waddle Dee's feet frantically sped faster than the ground was moving beneath them. He quickly lost his footing and tumbled down the hill, which fortunately was relatively free of any sharp rocks. Unfortunately, he seemed to perfectly seek out each one on his descent.
"Huh, that's odd," the junior Poppy pointed out. "He seemed to skip that one up there." No sooner than his words were spoken, the Waddle Dee somehow catapulted back up near the top of the incline to crash into the missed stone before falling all the way down to their feet.
"What are you doing screaming your head off at this hour?" roared Doo. It was not particularly late, but "this hour" tended to refer to any hour in Dream Land.
"I'm sorry guys," he squeaked, "but something awful has happened!"
"Yeah, big surprise," yawned Poppy, covering his mouth with a floating hand. "When is there not a problem? What is it now? Did the King get greedy again? Was the Dream Fountain drained? Were the Dream Stars stolen? Heart Stars? Rainbow Drops? Crystal Shards? Dream Hearts? Crystal Drops? Dream Shards? Heart Crystals? Dream Drops? Dream Pez Dispenser Collection?"
"You know, with so many things regulating our dreaming, happiness, and Pez supply," Doo felt like mentioning, "it's a wonder why we can't go without one or two of them."
"No, nothing's been stolen, and there's no time for Dream Debates," rushed the panicked squirt. "But we have got to hurry! The Rumbl-o-Rama is about to start, and no one is at the starting line yet! We can't miss it."
"But... why?" demanded Poppy.
"I don't know," confessed Dee, sweating more than ever. "It'd be wrong?"
"Why should we even bother?" chuckled the clown despite his sincere tone. "We'll just get beat by the usual and still reigning champion of countless years. I mean, he wins all the contests, all the time."
"Curse that pink, round, inflatable blob!" shouted Doo, waving his flipper fiercely in the sky, or as fiercely as he could. The act itself was rather adorable.
"Wait a second... Did you just say that no one is there?" Investigating the thought, Poppy led the two quasi-spheres in merry bounds down to a little hut and peered through the star-shaped window. There he spotted the pink cream puff fast asleep on his star pillow with drool hanging on his lip. "Oh, sweet smeg. He's asleep!"
"And?" questioned Waddle Dee, growing more nervous. "Wake him!"
"Are you mad, man?" yelled the cyclops. "Do you remember what happened last time we woke him up?"
The three drifted off to the memory of barging into the little house and shaking the pink blob awake. Slightly stirred from his rest, the hero stared at the trio through sleepy eyes, distorting their true images into tasty visions. Waddle Dee was replaced with an apple, Poppy Brother Jr. became an ice cream cone, and Waddle Doo transformed into a Waddle Dee.
"Hey!" protested the real and imaginary Dees. Despite the disagreements, the zombified globe swallowed all three in a single breath before slipping back into slumber.
"Oh, right," recalled Dee. "That was pretty bad, but what happened next was worse..."
"Kirby's Intestine!" a mysterious voice called out as a logo of the words fell down, ushering in the three tumbling through a wave tube as familiar music played in the background.
"I don't know," corrected Doo, "I think the last part was the worst..."
"Kirby's Colon!" the mysterious voice spoke again, but, this time, the logo read "Kirby: Right Back At Ya".
"I think you two are missing the point," stated Poppy as the memory sequence came to an end. "If he's going to miss the contest due to be taking his usual month long nap after saving the day yet again, then that means-"
"Someone else could actually win!" realized Doo with glee. "This is great! Er, wait. What exactly did he do? I don't remember Dream Land being in peril lately..."
"Yeah, it wasn't exactly a dire situation, but vital nonetheless," explained the younger bomber brother. "He set out to vanquish an army of clones." The brown cousins gave puzzled stares between their three eyes. "Apparently, there was a lot of cheap knock offs claiming to be him with slight modifications to their look and name. So, he had to dispose of them."
"... so," started the cyclops, "that means he-"
"Ate them, yes," reluctantly answered the cap topped madman. "I don't even think he's resting, really, just sleeping it off."
"Oh, yeah," laughed off his brown buddy, "I'd be tired, too, after choking down that much imitation me."
"Oh, no, I didn't mean he sleeping off the weight," self-corrected the jester, "just the illness."
"Illness?" simutaneously asked the pair.
"Yep. You know how he takes on abilities?" questioned the clown. "Yeah, each of them had the ability to suck."
"Well, that makes two sets of great," commented the cheerful Dee. "There won't be any pink posers and, best of all, not even any competition for us since no one else knows-"
"Hi there, guys," a squeaky voice chirped. The eyes of the three were directed to a green, horned lump with a tail. "Check out m' new kicks," he boasted. "I just got 'em color sprayed today. Grape!" He smiled a fanged grin as the others looked among themselves. "... Okay, eggplant, but they still look nice considering that I did 'em m'self... er, with a marker. It was a scented marker, however! ... and, trust me, it was scent only. Blah, I can't get rid of that taste." Choking on his earlier folly, a tongue marked with purple zigzags protruded from his wincing face. "I guess this really brings into question why I even said I got 'em sprayed in the first place, but let's just not go there, ey?" The demonic smile on Poppy's face grew just a little wider, signifying that he was actually frowning before, as he figured out the passerby would be no threat.
"Say there, buddy," he soothed, hopping over to his new "friend" and throwing an arm- er, hand around him, "you didn't hear any of that, did you?"
"... hear what, Poppy?" the green Dream Lander, Bogg, inquired with a slant of his brow.
"Nothing," fabricated the bomber. "Nothing happened. Okay?"
"Um... sure?" Bogg agreed with severe confusion.
"And just remember that nothing suspicious is going on or being planned," additionally lied the cyclops.
"Yeah," added the biclops, "and Kirby isn't sleeping through this year's Rumbl-o-Rama." The goblin's jaw dropped as Doo and Poppy smacked their faces. "Yep, he sure isn't asleep... right behind me... just through that window... drooling away."
"Kirby's missin' this year's Rumblo?" boomed the green globule whose voice echoed throughout the town, waking everyone with the message. Soon, a stampede of ball-shaped beings flooded from out of houses and over hills to the starting line. Dee began sweating more profusely under the harsh gazes of Poppy Brother Jr. and Waddle Doo.
"What? I said he wasn't sleeping. Wasn't!"
Bogg somehow managed to get through the crowd of people to reach the starting line, largely since he ran over them, bouncing off of heads. It was packed with hopefuls, and the numbers only grew. The word spread fast, apparently. Horribly cutting in line, which was neither single file, uniform, or evident, he was able to get registered rather quickly.
"Rumbler #121: Bogg," Mr. Tick-Tock shouted to rise above the crowd's commotion, jotting down the entry before accepting five more sign-ups. Seeing the growth of the swarm, he set back his clock hands to allow more time for the last minute registrations, an act he would be repeating several fold. After officially registering, the Rumblers could barely wait until the hour would strike and the contest began.
"This Rumblo will be different," the green one told himself. Here, Bogg would show everyone in Dream Land just what he was made out of. Then, the countless times of rejection would all melt away, he assumed, rather than leave their ever throbbing scar on his psyche.
"Dedede stole all our food? That monster! Do ya want any help with gettin' it back, K-ball?"
"What? And lessen the glory all the fine ladies will shower me with? Dream on, loser!"
"Hey, check out this ticket, Pink Meister! I entered the Ghost Trap contest, too!"
"Not any more. Yoink!"
"Are ya sure ya don't want any help this time? I mean, ya got enough pets that more than one could be saddled at a time."
"Ha ha h- no. Besides, I got myself a better partner. He's dumb as a brick, does as he's told, and won't realize that I'm hogging all the credit. Isn't that right, Gooey?"
"I like cheese!"
Now, of course, Bogg was not the one offering the help. That was some other smuck. He was privy to the conversation, however, since he was using the distraction to raid the hero's pantry.
"Man, those were some goooood non-generic brand chips," dreamily reminiced the horned one. "Heroes get all the perks."
"I bet they do," a voice croaked. The lunatic was startled.
"What the- ya heard that?" he questioned. Sir Slippy nodded. "I was sayin' that all aloud?" The toad nodded again. "Well, ... damn. Did... did I mention anythin' about m' problem..."
"Yeah, that's some sick stuff," grumbled the frog. "I think they make a cream for those types of problems."
"I was talkin' about m' doll collection comin' up," squeaked the frightened goblin. "Why, I bet ya are just messin' with me, ya jerk!" Slippy snickered devilishly as he had pried out a juicy secret anywise.
"Hey-hey-hey! Hey! ... Hey!" butted in a humanistic figure. "I know what sorta stuff you were trying to pull before with your innuendo! That doesn't belong here. Can it!"
"And a person-shaped person does?" countered Bogg.
"... Point taken," the human agreed before vanishing in a flash.
"Sooo... we aren't questioning that, right?" inquired the amphibian.
"Question what?" obliviously questioned the maniac. "No, seriously. I saw somethin' shiny and zoned out." Fortunately, deliverance from the awkwardness came from above, or, more precisely, a blimp located above. Kaboola soared overhead with a flashing side panel, detailing the race's course and rules, which were announced over ringing megaphones.
"The Rumbl-o-Rama is no-holds-bar. You will not be disqualified for hindering an opponent. Teams of any size are allowed, but only a single individual can claim the prize. The objective, the Legendairy, is hidden somewhere within the Dire Mire. In order to reach there, you will have to cross such dangerous terrains as the jagged peaks of the Cotton Mountains, the torrential Caramel Rapids, the burning Cinnamon Desert, the..." The listing of ridiculous locations went on, but they did not worry Bogg too much. The goblin was more focused on sizing up his competition. He gave them all a good look over as the countdown till the start neared minutes. "... The initial course will start off through the perilous Cookie Dough Dale," sounded the speakers. Peering over, the green one saw the landscape make the drastic change from lush grasses to gooey batter.
"There is a cookie land right outside o' town, and no one told me?" snapped Bogg. "What is up with that?"
"It is also important to note that, as the announcer and a participant, I am not violating the start line rules in my present position," voiced Kaboola as she drifted further and further away, nearly becoming a speck. "Also do not question my influence on the rules being seated at the board of the Rumblo's rule makers while equipped with a large cannon. It is perfectly ethical." Some one did happen to question her, but no one else dared to bring it up again after her explosive rebuttal. "At this time, will all Rumblers please register. All contestants must sign-up before the race's start. Do so now."
