At last, the dirty green and blue smog was beginning to clear. Gruntilda stood at the topmost window of her Lair, grinning wickedly down on her latest world. “Tiny creatures far below,” she cackled, “which of you’ll be the first to go?” The witch rubbed her hands in glee at the prospect of putting her favorite invention to good use. It was her pride and joy: a machine that could suck the physical beauty from its victims for Gruntilda to absorb like a sponge! And it would certainly teach her cutesy sister Brentilda a lesson. How dare that interfering do-gooder inherit the family good looks and leave Gruntilda, well… slightly disadvantaged in that department? Hah! Not any more, gloated the witch, picking her nose smugly. Not any more. Turning back to her bubbling cauldron, Gruntilda began to cast the spell which would reassure her that she was, of course, the most wonderfully attractive creature in this bright new world…
Meanwhile, Tooty was skipping home through the sunny green fields of Spiral Mountain. As she reached the garden gate, a pair of blurry eyes that could only belong to her good friend Bottles popped up from a nearby molehill. “Morning, Tooty,” he blinked, uncorking himself from the hole. “And what are your plans for this fine day?”
Tooty jumped up and down excitedly, remembering Banjo’s promise. “Oh!” she squealed. “When my lazy brother gets out of bed, we’re going on an adventure!” “That’s nice.” Bottles squinted up into the sky. “Hang on, isn’t that your brother up there?”
Tooty turned, and saw an odd shape swooping down towards them at high speed.
“No, that can’t be Banjo,” she said, frowning. “I wonder who it is…”
“Sweeter than me? Prettier than me? Impossible!”
Gruntilda was so furious at the cauldron’s words that she could barely control her broomstick, screeching with anger every time her boots clipped the treetops.
“As cute as me, you stupid pot? For her own sake, I hope she’s not!”The witch sped recklessly on until her target finally cam into view: staring upat her from a field far below was the innocent young Honey Bear she’d seen in the depths of that trecherous cauldron.
Gruntilda cackled. “I need those looks far more than she, and finally perfect I shall be!” she cried, and sent the broomstick into a steep dive.
Kazooie popped out of the backpack as noise erupted just outside the window.
“Banjo!” she squaked in alarm. “Banjo, wake up!”
The Honey Bear groaned and pulled a pillow over his head. “Aww, Kazooie, it’s too early,” came his muffled voice.
“This is no time to be lazy, furface!” trilled the Breegull, swinging anxiously to and fro. “We’ve got trouble!”
Banjo yawned, rolled over – and fell out of bed in surprise as Kazooie’s struggles suddenly toppled both the backpack and its stand onto the floor with a crash.
At the same time a sudden gust of wind blew open the curtains, and beneath the peals of manic laughter fading into the distance, Banjo heard the helpless cries of a voice he recognised…
The bear gulped, realising that this was definitely going to be one of those days.
“Uh, Kazooie, what are you doing down there?” he said in confusion, grabbing the backpack as he bolted for the door. “This is no time to be lazy – we’ve got trouble!”