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Kronk In Wonderland | White Rabbit and Kronk
Harold rushed through the thick forestation, as he made his way back to the rabbit hole. Someone was chasing him, but the white rabbit was too scared to look behind him. When he finally reached his rabbit's hole, Harold dove down. He hoped whoever had been following him, didn't follow him any further.
Kronk & Yzma || KROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONK!!!!!!!!
Yzma was in her lab thinking up new plans on how to kill Kuzco, the thought of ruling the empire and stealing it from that little brat's hand was pure heaven to her ears. Trying to find the right vile for her newest evil plan, Yzma got frustrated tearing through each one trying to find the precise potion. God were is that blasted bottle?! She thought, soon becoming too overwhelmed and throwing everything on to the ground into a smashing pile of glass.
Rubbing the tight skin of her temples she grumbled, thinking that maybe Kronk knew where it would be. "Kronk?" she called from her spot in the lab. Not hearing a response she called him again with another unanswered reply. Blood boiling she was starting to get annoyed. "KROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONK!!!!!!" she screamed, only to be ignored once more. She stormed off to his room, bursting through the door and finding it empty, with just a note left on his bed.
After she finished reading the note, she crumpled it in her hands, her purple skin turning red in anger. "He's in New Orleans?!" Yzma grumbled, ripping the paper into a small bits, she threw it in the air, groaning. "Why is that boy never here when I need him? UGH! Looks like I'm taking a trip to New Orleans."
-
Once in New Orleans Yzma searched the city streets for Kronk looking everywhere for him but to no avail. She had no idea where he could possibly be and she started to get a bit worried, though that feeling was soon overcome by anger as the day drifted by and there was still no sign of him anywhere.
Sitting on a bench in a nearby park, she pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration and began going on how he was never there when she most needed him. Thoughts soon interupted by the familiar scent of those spinach puffs he was always making. She followed the scent towards a rather large looking mansion over in a different part of the city.
"What in the world?" she mumbled. Yzma walked up to the large door and knocked. "KROOOOOONK ARE YOU IN THERE?!" she called, repeatedly knocking on the door til he finally answered the door, apron and oven mitts on. "KRONK! WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? I'VE BEEN LOOKING ALL OVER FOR YOU!"
~Scrumptious Spinach Puffs~ ((Kronk!))
His stomach rumbled fiercely. Eric did not restrain from rolling his eyes, feeling slightly defeated and exasperated. Since Chef Louie, had to take an immediate leave for France due to family issues, Grimsby strongly requested a replacement chef to cook for the royal family until Louie's return. Eric never agreed with Grimsby's proposition. Carlotta's cooking tasted just as delectable as Louie's dishes and it wasn't like the family could prepare their own meals. Yet the adviser persisted upon awaiting for the arrival of the chef from a far away land. If anyone was caught by the dignified adviser munching away on some food, Grimsby would surly go into an enormous fit that no one dared to encounter.
Eric couldn't stand the inevitable hunger that relentlessly taunted him. The kitchen was merely a few steps away. It's not like he hasn't snuck by Grimsby before. Eric stood abruptly and strode hurriedly toward the door. Just as he was about to leave the room a portly guard, clad in the protection garments, stood in his path to the kitchen. "Your Majesty!" he bellowed in a deep voice. Eric jerked back in shock, not expecting for the guard to have such a booming voice. "The chef that Sir Grimsby had requested is in the palace, highness!" The sailor prince rubbed his temple and closed his eyes. "Alright." Eric exhaled deeply as he reopened his eyes and glanced up at the man. "J-Just send him in here." The guard saluted to the weary prince. "Very good, your excellency."
He nodded his head towards the guard as he marched away. His leather boots shuffled against the polished tile floor with his head bent low. Oh, how he wished that a platter of food was in front of him. He solemnly plopped back into his towering chair and straightened his form, patiently waiting for the chef to come bursting through the doors.
