Well Well Well, lookie who's here.
Out for a stroll with a small entourage of waddle dees, Dedede stops in his tracks when he hears a very unwelcome voice. Oh boy, this guy. He turns around to face his alternate, arms folded.
"Shouldn’t that be my line? You’re on my turf here, buddy.”
"Oooh, lookie here, now who’s losing his tempah? Maybe ya’ll outta think twice ‘fore ya make fun o’ me."
His eyes narrow and he takes another step forward. He tenses his arms, fighting very hard against the urge to simply let the hammer swing without another word. At this point, the only thing keeping his temper in check is laziness; he came out here for a peaceful stroll, not a fight.
"You say that like you just taught me some kind of lesson. I’m telling you I’m gonna teach you one if you don’t turn around and go back where you came from right now, creep. Go on — I’m being generous, here.”
"Y’all ain’t gunna run me outta town without a fight boi! All I wanted was ta get some grub, but den y’all’s got ta gull ta insult mah kingdom!"
"I warned you," Dedede growls, shifting into a more battle-ready stance. The waddle dees skitter away to watch from a safe distance, huddled together nervously.
With a battle cry — he’s been working on those lately, hoping to up his intimidation factor — he charges toward his foe.
