!!!ICHI BAN!!! KATAMARI FAN FICTION (PART III) !!!ICHI BAN!!!

Howard "Sludgy Puddles" Jameson, a renowned blues guitarist from Detroit, America, was playing a gig at the Blue Lotus House of Despair Happy Blues Club in Kyoto when the sirens began blaring, or as he would have put it in one of his songs, "a-blarin'". As the sound of the city's emergency alert system whirred to life, partially overpowering the down-and-out croonings of the man and his guitar, the audience began to murmur and shift worriedly, no longer mesmerized by his bluesy melodies. After about a minute the commotion had risen to such a point that Sludgy had to stop.

"Now, see here," he said, his mustache wobbling, "what's all this here noise all 'bout?" The stage manager rushed out and addressed Sludgy in as conciliatory a tone as his broken English could allow.

"Sorry Mr. Pudders... Emergency, big trouber coming. We must put down to cerrar right now!"

"Whah boy? I have no idea whatchu tryin' say to me, 'dis here guitah ain't no universal translatah, ain't no Scotteh gonna beam mah ol' ass up. Now whatchu tryin' say son?"

"Emergency, Mr. Pudders, cerrar is prace to go, right now!" The stage manager tugged insistently on Sludgy Puddles' arm.

"Now son, doan go pullin' an ol' man's arm that way!" There was a problem. Sludgy, in the face of his everlasting musical prowess, was a slightly demented old man, and the stage manager was no pro when it came to English.

"Sludgy, it's time to go." Mike Greenjeans, his manager, had finally managed to elbow his way up from the back row through the rapidly dispersing patrons.

Sludgy turned to his manager. "Now tell me Michael, what'n God's name's all this hull' bloo?"

"We need to move down to the cellar, it's not very big, but it's the safest place for us right now. Something bad is coming this way." said Mike.

"Is it the Japs? I ain't goan end up like one them Pearl Harbor boys. Where's mah carbine?"

Mike glanced sheepishly at the stage manager for a moment before saying, "We're in Japan, Sludgy. Let's just head on down stairs, okay?"

Mr. Puddles still resisted slightly. He stared up at Mike for a moment with that far away, rheumy-eyed look of his, that old mind working to fully ascertain the situation. "They got mo' them big titty girls down there?" Mike did not know to which big titty girls the aged blues musician was referring. Not having any clue what Sludgy was talking about outside his music was pretty common. Still, Mike knew an opening when he saw one.

"Yes, Sludgy. At least a baker's dozen. Shall we go?"

"Hells yes, son!" said Sludgy, creaking out of his seat with youthful gusto. He took the amplifier jack out of Spicywings (the name by which he referred to his guitar), but left the instrument hanging around his shoulders. Steadying his guitar by the neck in one hand, and scooping up his cane in the other, Mike helped him as they slowly made their way to the club's wine cellar. Mike would have offered to carry the instrument, but nobody- nobody, but Sludgy Puddles ever laid a hand on Spicywings.

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Two Hours Earlier....

King's private Gulfstream jet touched down at Kansai International Airport as dusk began to swallow up the day. It was still an hour's drive into Kyoto. A limo from the branch office was waiting. "Mr. King, what a most pleasant surprise." said the manager who had come out to meet him. "We're all very honored that you could make it out here."

"Mm." grunted King, gazing nonchalantly out the car window, his tight clad legs crossed effeminately.

"All of us at the Kyoto branch are quite confident your leadership will play a paramount roll in bringing this crisis to an end." King did not respond. "Sir... if you don't mind me asking... how do you plan on stopping this thing?"

"We have our ideas." responded King, blunt and dismissive.

"Oh, okay." said the manager. There was an uncomfortable half-minute of silence as the manager worked up his courage. On one hand, he did not want to incur King's wrath by interrupting what was sure to be a very brilliant train of thought, on the other, he really wanted some self assurance that they'd be able to stop that rampaging genetically engineered ball of junk from destroying civilization. He took a chance. "Like what?"

King slowly turned his face away from the window and looked over at the him, his expression completely neutral. "Aw fuck, this is it." thought the manager. He had pushed too hard, and he knew the stories of people who had before him. It was typically nothing pretty.

Then, shockingly, King's countenance reconstructed itself into a wide and cordial grin, and he chuckled jovially. "Why, my good man! We have something most splendiferous up our sleeve! Something fab to bedazzle the senses! Something full of brightness and color! We love it!"

"Oh?" said the bewildered manager.

"Indeed! A fantastical, coolerific thing! Something shiny and fun!"

"Really?" said the manager, getting excited, "What is-"

"Ask me more!" said the King, grinning manically.

"What is it?" asked the manager.

The twinkle in King's eye burst like a light bulb that had caught a bullet, his smile melted into an angry sneer, and his wrath was palpable throughout the limo. "WHY MUST IT ASK SO MANY QUESTIONS? SILENCE, FOOL, OR WE SHALL RIP OFF YOUR PENIS AND RAPE YOUR WIFE WITH IT!"

"Oh fuck me! Please forgive my insolence, honorable Kingagawa!"

King's bright smile returned. "Hahahahahahaha, naw man, We just kidding with you! The solution is right here!" King reached into his pocket and withdrew a little vibrant green man, about the height of a golf pencil. He had a body shaped like a gumdrop, and a tiny cylindrical head running lengthwise along his shoulders, with an even tinier square face in the center.

"Wow... look at that." said the manager. "What is it?"

"Why," said King, "He's our prince!"

"I see..."

"Remember how the Katamari project was top secret, which is why you didn't hear about it until it got loose? Well, the project to design this little fellow was super, super duper top secret! We were really the only ones to know about it! What does he do, you ask? He's the master roller of course! He controls the Katamari, and he's completely nonstick! We thought we'd need to train him, but he seems to think he's ready."

"Wah wah wee wah..." said the manager, astounded.

"Yes, and what we plan to do is to set him loose in Kyoto when the Katamari shows up, and he'll take control of it for us. Very slick, very simple!"

"We knew you'd have a solution, Mr. King. You always d-"

The passengers were thrown about violently as the car's momentum was drastically altered and the limo began lifting off the ground. It took King only a moment to realize what happened: The Katamari had rolled them up right off the highway. Now the car was gradually moving up along the Katamari's circumference as the creature rolled steadily along the ground, slowly turning the passengers upside down. King hadn't even seen it approach from behind, though he realized it had to be huge at this point.

King knew his only option was to jump out, but if he did at the wrong moment, he'd land on the Katamari and become stuck himself. No, he'd have to wait for the exact moment before the limo finished a full rotation around the creature, and jump out just before he and the car were crushed between the monster and the ground it was rolling on.

But where was the Prince? He was so small and the limo had nearly been turned completely upside down at this point, reaching the highest part of the Katamari. He was nowhere to be seen. King tried to search his pockets, see if the Prince had managed to hop back in, but he felt nothing. Had he fallen on the floor somewhere? No, the floor was the ceiling now. Had he been crushed? No way of knowing. The car was descending, and King's one chance at escape had nearly arrived.

King took notice of the manager- he had been knocked unconscious with the impact. He sat slouched in his leather seat, tethered there by his seatbelt, a small line of blood trickling down his forehead. "Well, he looks comfy!" thought King, genuinely believing it. "Time to go!" The trunk of the car was just being crushed as he kicked open the back door and leaped from the doomed vehicle.

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Since its escape, the Katamari considered itself very well fed. But now, rolling along with a circumference of about 30 yards, it was ready for a feast. A feast of earth and metal and flesh and bone! Not to mention several random plastic Japanese gadgets and toys.

As it approached the city via the main highway, just having gorged itself with impunity upon the human contraptions that rolled along it, the creature noticed a line of curious vehicles and devices waiting in its way. Seeing no reason why it couldn't proceed to consume them as it had everything else of such puny size, it did not slow its advance.

Surprisingly, a series of projectiles was launched from the little clutter of machinery, smashing into the Katamari. The impact kicked it back slightly, but ultimately this had little effect. The creature simply found itself adorned with an array of undetonated shells and missiles. More sustenance. The little machines began retreating, but it managed to catch a few of the slower ones as it resumed its course into the city.

The Katamari began its rampage. It ripped up trees and jungle gyms as it rolled through parks, tore out fire hydrants, and made an all-you-can-eat buffet out of the cars which lined the streets. Some of the ordinance it had picked up earlier exploded and blasted a couple of high rises apart, starting a fire. Siamese cats and golden retrievers were consumed, school children absorbed, hordes of fleeing business men devoured, stupid American college girls visiting a foreign country on their daddy's paycheck so they can gorge their vaginas on huge Japanese cocks.... all of them sucked into the Katamari's unbreakable gravity well and eaten. My God I hate American college girls.

The city of Kyoto had become a bonanza of edibility for Katamari.

To Be Continued...