Posh Princess Nene ploughs through the Competition [engsub/hololive]
1,031Nene Momosuzu plays Mario Kart 8 Deluxe.
Original stream: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AwzhNlbk59k&
@MomosuzuNene
Thank you to @kusogaclips for the QC help!
After a long day of blowing raspberries, screaming, and troubleshooting her tech issues, Princess Nene turned off her stream and retired to her chamber. There, with the help of her loyal retainer, Sir Shishiron, she alighted the peach-shaped dais, upon which her pink throne sat, and took her seat. She leaned with her elbow on one of the armrests and rested her weary head upon her hand.
“Sir Shishiron,” she sighed.
“Yes, your Royal Fragrance?” was the Knight’s obsequious reply.
“After so many hours of entertaining the masses, I, myself, wish to be entertained.” She plucked a single strand of pinkish-blonde hair from her mantle and deposited it in a jar to later sell for a depressingly large amount of money. “Do call my jester, will you?”
“At once, your Flatulence,” replied the Knight with a courtly bow.
Princess Nene perked up. “I believe you misspoke just now, Sir Shishiron.”
The Knight paused and tilted her head in a thoughtful manner. In a slow, measured tone she replied, “No. I believe I spoke correctly, your Floralness.”
Nene sat back, somewhat deflated. “I must have misheard you, then. My apologies, dear Shishiron.”
The Knight strode across the chamber toward a golden cord which dangled from the ceiling. “No apologies needed, your Royal Filthiness.”
Jumping to her feet, Nene roared, “Hey!”
The Knight snickered behind one hand as she yanked on the cord with the other. The ceiling cracked open and the sound of a thousand rubber chickens, screaming in unholy unison, sounded out like the clarion that would mark the end of times. As the din died, another was raised. The voice of someone, rising in timbre as if hurtling toward the ground from a great height, sent comically cadenced screams juggling around the chamber below. In a blurry streak of red, blue and sandy brown, a foxlike young woman fell out of the ceiling, travelling fifty times what maximum velocity would allow, and hit the ground with the sound of a thousand whoopie cushions barking all at once, before bouncing at an angle, hitting the ceiling, and falling back to earth with a wet splat.
Forgetting her fury, Nene clapped like a pinniped with a shiny new red ball. “More, more!” she screamed.
The Jester stood up like someone stepping on a rake. She doffed her hat, which jingled merrily, and made a low bow. Two ostrich eggs fell from her corset and splattered all over the floor. She stood up straight, hovering a hand over her mouth in mock embarrassment.
“AHAHA!” guffawed Nene, pointing with one hand and holding her stomach with the other. “The boobs were eggs!” She slapped her knee and doubled over. “EGGS!”
The Jester rubbed the back of her head and mimed a self-effacing chuckle.
“What a clown,” grumbled the Knight from the back of the room.
Like a dog to a whistle, the Jester spun around and ran toward the Knight as fast as her size 17 clown shoes would allow. Reaching the Knight, she inadvertently kicked her in the shin from a good three feet away. The Knight, however, remained stoic, allowing herself only a slight frown at her bruised shin.
“What?” she asked curtly as the Jester beamed up at her in expectation. “I’ve no time for your buffoonery, Clown.”
A light bulb flashed above the Jester’s head. She reached behind her left ear and drew out a wristwatch and offered it to the Knight.
The Knight merely scowled. “I’ll have no part in it.”
The Jester turned around to face the Princess and let her face droop into a picture of ridiculous melancholy.
“Sir Shishiron!” fumed Nene, stamping her foot. “I hereby command that you put that watch on this instant!”
“But your Fragre—”
“This isn’t a joke!” She lowered her voice. “This is serious.”
The Knight looked down at the Jester and bared her fangs and snatched the watch and slapped it onto her right wrist. The Jester clapped delightedly and then pantomimed the question: What time is it?
But the Knight merely crossed her arms and rolled her eyes.
“Sir Shishiron,” Nene crooned, “Pray tell, what is the time?”
The Knight looked to the ceiling, as if expecting the hand of God to pluck her out of this living hell. When divine intervention seemed unlikely, she heaved a heavy sigh and looked down at the watch.
“It’s—”
The watch blasted her bare eyeballs with concentrated lemon juice, and she arched her neck and
roared at the ceiling in agony.
Taking this as her cue to skedaddle, the Jester kicked the Knight in the shin, intentionally this time, and then waddle-sprinted back toward the throne. She made a deep bow, stood up straight, and then ascended back into the ceiling in an attitude of beatitude.
Against the backdrop of the Knight flushing her eyes at the chemical relief station, the Princess clasped her hands together and said, “Oh, what a clown.”