Chapter 3: The Presidential Dinner Disaster

Jake had survived press conferences filled with insane questions and strolled through cities that looked like they were designed by someone who took too many mushrooms. But tonight? Tonight was something else entirely.

He found himself sitting at the head of an overly long dining table, stretching so far that it seemed to have its own horizon. The **Presidential Banquet** was supposed to be a formal affair—a "meet and greet" with various dignitaries. But clearly, nothing in this world followed normal expectations.

To his left, **Gralgor the Unshaven**, an ambassador from the **Kingdom of Barbariania**, was currently holding an entire roasted turkey in one hand and dipping it, like a doughnut, into a giant vat of molten cheese. A huge chunk of cheese dribbled down his beard, splattering onto his furry chest, but he didn't seem to notice or care. He gave Jake a toothy grin, his yellow tusks gleaming. "Good eats, yeah?"

"Uh, yeah... great eats," Jake mumbled, not sure whether to laugh or be concerned that the guy's arteries would clog before dessert. He looked around at the rest of the table.

To his right, **Ambassador Finflop** of the **Merfolk Union** was delicately chewing on seaweed sushi… while wearing a bubble helmet filled with water. Every now and then, she would blow bubbles out of the corners of her mouth, causing her eyes to bulge out like a pufferfish. She blinked at Jake, and for a moment, he wondered if she was drowning in there.

"Everything okay?" Jake asked cautiously.

"Blub-blub! Perfectly delightful!" she gurgled, waving a fin and making a small fountain of water shoot out of her helmet.

Jake nodded slowly. "Right. Delightful."

Across the table sat **Count Snuzzlepuff**, the dignitary from **Flufftopia**—a kingdom entirely ruled by sentient teddy bears. He was a 3-foot-tall plush bear dressed in a tiny tuxedo, sitting atop a stack of pillows so he could reach his food. He was currently stabbing a roasted carrot with a tiny golden fork, glaring at it as if it had personally wronged him.

"Everything alright, Count Snuzzlepuff?" Jake asked, trying to maintain some form of diplomacy in this mess.

The teddy bear dignitary's eyes gleamed with menace. "Carrots," he said in a high-pitched voice, "always too crunchy. You think you can out-chew me, you orange fiend?" He took another vicious stab at the carrot, growling under his breath. Jake wasn't sure if he should offer help or call a therapist.

On the far end of the table, Jake spotted **Sir Bubbles**, the representative from **Cloudtopia**. He was literally a giant floating cloud with a monocle and a bowler hat perched precariously on his fluffy head. As everyone else ate, Sir Bubbles was blowing bubbles into a goblet filled with sparkling rainwater.

Just when Jake thought it couldn't get weirder, **General Grimlock**, a 9-foot-tall Minotaur warrior from **Bullgardia**, banged his fist on the table. The impact sent the floating plates spinning faster through the air, and a bowl of soup flew past Jake's ear, splattering against the wall.

"President Jake!" Grimlock boomed. "This banquet is weak! Where are the battles? Where is the bloodshed?!"

Jake coughed, nearly choking on his drink. "Uh, it's just dinner, General. You know, food… conversation… peaceful stuff?"

Grimlock snorted, steam billowing from his nostrils. "Hah! Weakling nonsense! In Bullgardia, we fight for our food. The strongest gets the best portion!"

Jake shot his assistant a pleading look. His assistant, **Bob the Unfazed**, stood calmly in the corner, sipping what looked like a neon pink smoothie. He gave Jake a thumbs-up. Great help.

Suddenly, a loud **cluck** echoed through the hall.

Jake turned his head slowly, half expecting a regular chicken. But of course, this world didn't do *regular*.

A massive, three-headed **Fire-Chicken** strutted into the banquet hall, flames licking at its wings as it pecked at the floor, leaving scorch marks in its wake. One of the heads squawked at Gralgor's turkey-dunking spectacle, clearly unimpressed. The other two heads looked ready to roast someone alive.

"What the hell is that?" Jake whispered to Bob.

"Oh, that's the **Official Presidential Poultry**. They bring it out for special occasions. Tradition, you know."

The Fire-Chicken flared its wings, and one of the heads let out a stream of fire that singed the tips of Jake's hair. He immediately ducked under the table.

"I don't care about traditions!" Jake yelped, patting his head to make sure it wasn't on fire. "Why is everything here trying to kill me?"

From beneath the table, Jake heard **Count Snuzzlepuff** grumbling. "The carrot's still crunchy, Mr. President. I demand satisfaction!"

Above the chaos, General Grimlock stood from his seat, pointing at the Fire-Chicken. "I challenge you, bird! For the honor of Bullgardia!" He grabbed a giant steak knife from the table and charged at the beast.

"Bob, get me out of here!" Jake cried, crawling away from the incoming firestorm. Just as he popped back up from under the table, a **plate of flying mashed potatoes** hit him square in the face.

He wiped the potatoes from his eyes, muttering, "I'm going to need so much therapy after this."