Lil C. chimed in:
— Or an ice cream brand. I'd eat it.
GrandMami snapped back:
— I am not a hotel and not a dessert! I am reason and discipline! And also… a master conductor! — She flipped on her hoverboard in outrage.
Pestichida Carbonara clearly didn't like her advisor's sudden betrayal, but she had an ace up her sleeve.
— I was already planning to replace you. Too greedy, too lazy. Instead, I summon my noble allies — Viscount Pete and Baron Bas!
The moment she said it, out of the hut walked two old men — one short, bearded, sharp in a tailcoat and top hat, cane in hand…
The second one — tall, braided ponytail, barefoot under a soft robe dragging down to his heels. In one hand he twirled a monocle, catching sunlight and flashing it straight at the princess, which clearly annoyed her.
— My advisors are top professionals! — announced Pestichida with pride, and the two old-timers fixed their gaze on Pom-Pom.
— Bruv, — said Viscount Pete, tapping his cane. — I've been thinking… this muffin's got no flow.
— Facts, fam, — added Baron Bas, snapping his fingers. — His punches? Just crumbs, bro. Nothing but crumbs.
Pom-Pom blushed deep red, like he'd been left too long in the oven, and huffed:
— That's too harsh. — He cracked his knuckles, sighed, and muttered — Looks like I've got competition. Let's battle!
The candy-cane forest began to hum, pitbull statues breathed fire in sync, and the dandelion guards started waving their spears to the rhythm. Pestichida clapped her hands with glee, beckoning the twins and Mami to sit beside her.
— Come now, don't be shy. This is gonna be a show.
Pete and Bas stepped closer to the muffin.
— Ready, man? — Pete asked, reaching for the high collar of his tailcoat like he wanted to pull up a hoodie that wasn't there.
— Always ready, fam, — Bas replied, his cane now tapping out a beat.
Instead of shrinking back, Pom-Pom pulled his cap down low and, dead serious, declared:
— I'm a muffin with filling, a pie with a twist,
While you rhyme your weak lines — I'm cookin' , like the beast!
Pete shot a worried glance at Bas and fired back:
— Bruv, your punches are dry like toast with no spread,
We ride the beat proper, we're always ahead.
Bas chimed in:
— You're sweet but you're hollow, like a market éclair,
Our bars hit harder than rockets through air!
Meanwhile, Mami, bouncing on her hoverboard, put on her strictest face as if she didn't care. But suddenly she broke into an operatic refrain:
— Gentlemen, stop, the children are watching! —
Though it was clear even she was holding her breath, waiting for the next punch.
Pete and Bas rapped in chorus:
Don't trust a crown that melts in the rain.
If the pitbull barks, you feed it again.
Brains are sweets, but don't rot 'em, mate.
Just when everyone thought Pom-Pom was finished, he bent down, tugged at his spur as if drawing strength, and whispered:
— I am not Geezer. I'm the one who knows… you're just lizards.
Gasps all around. The old advisors shimmered and — poof! — turned into two tiny reptiles. One in a comically small tailcoat, the other flicking her long braid like a whip. They stood frozen for a second… then bolted in opposite directions!
— Great. — Pestichida jutted out her bottom lip. — Now I'll have to invent new advisors.
— Maybe you don't have to. We could be them. — Yuki offered. Her brother jumped in right away:
— Yeah, and your kingdom's already cool as it is, so we wouldn't even have that much work.