A Dudeski of the People

Julie 'mew' Beeblebrox #comedy #anti-fascism #fan-fiction

Funky Kong

Amidst a dimly lit chamber, the Arditi del Popolo sat with a determination etched upon their faces by the tools of war, their eyes bright like gunfire with the fervor of revolution. One amongst them, a tall man with shoulders like a battle cruiser brought his fist down upon the table with a thunderous crash, the cups scattered around the table shaking with resounding force.

“We can’t just wait around, pants down,” he declared. “We must strike while our iron is hot, and take the fight to those who seek to crush the people beneath their boots!”

His comrades nodded in agreement, their gazes aflame with the same intense determination. They knew full well that they faced a formidable foe, one that would walk the ends of the earth to crush their dream of liberation. But they had a bond of brotherhood forged in the fire of courage, a courage that you could see burning in their eyes.

They debated and deliberated for hours, weighing the various options with utmost care, often punctuated with loud debate, but all the while they maintained a deep and abiding respect for their comrades.

The opening and closing of a door was heard by them distantly, the door knob latching gently. Instantly, their hands went to the rifles at their sides, prepared for any potential danger. But as the door opened, the hawk-like focus of their eyes stopped, and they widened with confusion.

Funky Kong, the laid-back and easygoing ape of Kong Island was standing before them, boombox in one hand and a carcano rifle in the other. His entrance was met with a stunned speechlessness from the resistance fighters, who looked on in confusion as he strode confidently into their midst.

Funky grinned broadly as he walked before them. He wore a pair of sunglasses and a red bandana on his head. A true son of the resistance, he radiated an impenetrable aura of cool self-assurance that was at odds with the serious business at hand.

“Hey, dudes and dudettes!” he exclaimed, his voice full of enthusiasm. “Whatcha up to? Planning some serious monkey business, huh?”

The Arditi del Popolo stared at him in bemusement, minds racking what to say to the kong before them. They had never seen anyone quite like Funky before, with his modern clothing and carefree attitude.

But then, the broad shouldered man held up a hand, saluting Funky, and slowly but surely, the others began to relax.

Funky brought a sort of chill vibe to the resistance that fascists didn’t quite like.

Funky took a step forward and extended a hand in greeting. “Name’s Funky Kong,” he said. “and I’m here to lend a hand, if you’ll have me. What do you say?”

And just like that, the Arditi del Popolo became one greater. They may have been confused by Funky’s sudden ape-earance, but they had to admit the sense of goodwill and positivity that he brought with him. Perhaps, they said, there was room for a little bit of funk in their fight for freedom.