(Untitled)

[squeakersqueak]

The door swings open, revealing jungle foliage of almost cartoonish lushness, and a young man sticks his head into the bar.

He looks very puzzled. However, if you grow to know him better, you will discover that this is not much of a departure from his usual expression.

"... Huh," he says, with a degree of thoughtfulness usually reserved for

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[mothpapa]

Not far away is a girl of the female persuasion... one of those kinds with more flauntable assets than most people have brain cells.

Especially Kronk.

"Lost, muscle boy?" she asks, simperingly, from her spot at a nearby table.

[squeakersqueak]

Kronk looks.

"Uhhhh ..."

Note that although he is currently fixated on an undeniably foxy lady, his expression fails to change in any discernible way.

Nevertheless, after a moment he seems to snap out of it.

"I didn't know Mudka's was remodeling," he says thoughtfully, stroking his chin. "Will you look at the wood finishing? That's incredible."

[mothpapa]

Kronk has failed to pay adequate attention to her.

She sliiiiides up out of her chair and does an Invisible Slow-Motion Hula Hoop walk to him.

"Mudka took a hike," she informs him, poking one of his biceps. "And the wood finishing's not the only incredible thing around here."

[squeakersqueak]

That is a really, really impressive walk. Despite the fact that it is, in fact, a slow-motion walk, Kronk still does not have time to react to the poking with anything other than a blank, jockish sort of expression.

"Uhhhh."

Get used to that sound, Meg.

Kronk looks around, scratching his head. "That's funny ... I thought Mudka was doing all right for herself. Admittedly it was a setback to lose her short-order cook ... I wish I could've filled in a little longer."

Woe!

[mothpapa]

Woe! Woepuppies and woekittens FALLING FROM THE SKY! Buckets and buckets of woe!

Meg flings her arms up over one of his arms, which probably weighs about as much as she does.

"Oh, the poor, poor woman," she sighs, watting her woeful lashes and tossing her woefully shiny hair into his face. "She was... dare I say it? She was... eaten! Yes. Devoured by wolves."

This section of the post was sponsored by your local friendly Woecakes Company. And now, a word from our other sponsor, This Girl Means Business:

"Where ya from, sweetheart?" she asks, dropping the woecakes.

[squeakersqueak]

Kronk is promptly STRICKEN WITH WOE.

"Oh, Mudka!" he exclaims tearfully. "Just when you were explanding your menu!"

His lower lip trembles, and he wipes tears from his eyes.

"You may have been digested," he declares solemnly, putting a hand to his heart, "but your mug of meat will never be forgotten."

He bows his head.

[mothpapa]

Kronk will have to forgive Meg any vague, lingering hint of smugness.

She's a coldhearted bitch with no soul, that's all.

"Aww." She pats his hand. "She went peacefully, and for a good cause. To feed the little baby wolves! Who were starving, for lack of rabbits!"

Yes, she's enjoying this. Playing muscular men like slots and getting a jackpot every time is her specialty. And also why Hades thought her soul was worth enslaving.

[squeakersqueak]

Kronk wipes his eyes, sniffling away residual tears.

"You've got to wonder," he says thickly, "what wolves were doing all the way down here."

It must have been the lack of rabbits. It drove them south in search of new food!

[mothpapa]

"Possibly they were forging a new path. A new way for all wolves! Building their future out of the very soil!" She strikes a pose any sculptor would kill to have his models attain and hold. But Meg doesn't hold it. She drops it almost instantly.

"What's your name, pookie?"

[squeakersqueak]

Kronk sighs.

Building a brighter future is all well and good, but you'd think they could do it without devouring anybody.

"Oh-- uh," he says. "I'm Kronk. It's nice to meet you, even under these ... really tragic circumstances."

[mothpapa]

"I'm Megara." He red lips spread in an oh-so-charming smile. "You can call me Meg. So where'd you wander in from, pookie?"

Pookie is preferable to Kronk, which, she imagines, is a name he earned based on the sound his head makes when it runs into a wall.

[squeakersqueak]

"... Meg. Uh."

Kronk rubs the back of his neck, a sheepish, schoolboyish gesture more appropriate for someone actually a schoolboy.

"Well, I was showing the Junior Chipmunks how to earn their Cartography Badge, but I guess my map just wasn't up to snuff."

He glances around thoughtfully. "It's that or I was reading it upside-down. Which ... given where I ended up, might make sense."

[mothpapa]

"Junior Chipmunks, huh?" She TOTALLY BY ACCIDENT bumps her hip against his as she sidles next to him. "So where are the little kiddies now?"

[squeakersqueak]

Kronk turns just. A little. Red.

"Uhhhh," he says suavely. "Well, I guess they're just wandering around in the jungle unsupervised and totally defenseless."

Beat.

"... In hindsight, it may not have been the best idea to send them out in groups of two."

[mothpapa]

Meg puts on her very BESTEST ohgod what about the CHILDRINZ?? mommy look the only way a woman can.

"They're out there with the wolves? The very desperate pack that devoured poor, poor Mudka?" This is true Greek tragedy, folks. He face falls into a resigned expression. "They've probably been devoured by now." She lays a gentle hand on Kronk's shoulder. "Perhaps... perhaps we should mourn them over a glass or three of wine. You're buying."

[squeakersqueak]

Kronk straightens bolt upright.

ZOMG OHNOEZ.

"Chaca and Tipo!" he cries. "I have to find them! Chicha will never forgive me!"

Kronk turns, hurtling towards the door in a speeding blur of maternal instincts--

THUD.