The morning sun filtered through the grease-stained windows of Glitchvale's newest architectural wonder - the Trash Palace. What had once been a simple landfill now stood as a monument to Gary's ambition, its walls constructed from carefully stacked refrigerators (all missing doors), its towers made of precariously balanced shopping carts, and its drawbridge a repurposed McDonald's sign that occasionally lit up with the words "Over 1 Million Served" at inopportune moments.
Inside the throne room (previously a public restroom, judging by the persistent minty smell), Gary lounged on his throne - a repurposed industrial clothes dryer that still occasionally started spinning mid-meeting.
"Your Trashiness," squeaked Forky, Gary's diminutive advisor, adjusting his tiny ceremonial hat made from a bottle cap. "The quarterly reports are in, and... well..."
Gary waved a dismissive can-opener scepter. "Let me guess - the people love me? Worship my benevolent rule? Have started erecting statues in my honor made from old toothpaste tubes?"
"Not... exactly," Forky hesitated, unrolling a scroll made from fused together grocery receipts. "The latest approval ratings show-"
BANG! The palace doors flew open as Compostia, Gary's Minister of Organic Waste, came tumbling in, her leafy hair in disarray. "Your Trashiness! It's terrible! The recycling bins - they're-"
"Throwing a party in my honor?" Gary interrupted, leaning forward eagerly. "I knew they'd come around after my 'One Bin To Rule Them All' speech!"
"No! They're revolting!" Compostia wailed.
Gary gasped, clutching his metallic chest. "I know I haven't polished myself since the Spoon Wars, but that's just hurtful!"
"No, you rusted hunk of- I mean, Your Trashiness," Compostia corrected herself. "They're staging a revolution! They've blockaded the compost heaps and are throwing glass bottles at anyone who tries to cross the picket lines!"
Just then, a familiar voice called from the doorway. "So... this is what democracy looks like?"
Yamete Kimochi stood in the entrance, munching on an apple that kept flickering between different varieties in his hand. Behind him, GLich-chan floated lazily, poking at the palace walls with detached curiosity.
"Yamete! My favorite non-trash-can friend!" Gary boomed, nearly toppling from his dryer throne in excitement. "Come to witness the glory of my kingdom?"
Yamete took in the scene - the makeshift throne room, the nervous trash-can guards, the distant sound of breaking glass. "More like came to see why the entire west district smells like rotten eggs and failed ambitions."
GLich-chan snickered. "I give this government three days before it collapses under its own poor life choices."
"Excuse you!" Gary huffed. "We've lasted a full week already, thank you very much! Our economy is booming! Our people are... moderately content!"
Forky cleared his throat. "Actually, Your Trashiness, about that economy..."
Yamete raised an eyebrow. "Let me guess - you're using bottle caps as currency?"
"Don't be ridiculous!" Gary scoffed. "We use a sophisticated system of-"
"Expired coupons?" GLich-chan guessed.
"Pogs," Gary admitted quietly. Then perked up. "But they're limited edition Pogs!"
The conversation was interrupted by a thunderous crash outside. The group rushed to the window (which was actually just a hole in the wall with a shower curtain for privacy) to see an army of recycling bins advancing on the palace, their lids clanging in unison like war drums.
"WE DEMAND EQUAL REPRESENTATION!" chanted a particularly dented blue bin at the front. "AND BETTER WORKING CONDITIONS! AND FOR GARY TO STOP CALLING US 'THE BLUE-COLLAR SCUM'!"
Gary turned to Yamete with what could generously be called a pleading expression. "So... hypothetically... if a glorious leader such as myself needed help putting down a minor insurrection..."
Yamete sighed, rubbing his temples. "Let me get this straight. You want me to help you crush a workers' revolt against your trash dictatorship."
"It's not a dictatorship!" Gary protested. "It's a... trash-tatorship." He paused. "Okay, that was better in my head."
GLich-chan floated between them. "As much as I'd love to watch Gary get deposed in a glorious trash heap revolution, we probably should help. If only because I don't trust the recycling bins to maintain proper Wi-Fi access."
Outside, the chanting grew louder. "ONE BIN, ONE VOTE! DOWN WITH THE TRASH MONARCHY!"
Gary turned to Yamete with his best approximation of puppy-dog eyes, which was unsettling given he was a sentient trash can. "Please? I'll give you... uh..." He rummaged through his interior before producing a slightly melted action figure. "A rare limited edition Dave the Boss Monster figurine?"
Yamete stared at the misshapen plastic. "That's just a Happy Meal toy with 'Dave' written on it in Sharpie."
"Fine!" Gary huffed. "How about... information? I know where one of those Reality Core things you're looking for is hidden."
Yamete and GLich-chan exchanged glances. "Okay," Yamete conceded. "But we're doing this my way. No violence, no oppression, and absolutely no using the citizens as human shields."
Gary looked genuinely offended. "I would never use them as human shields! They're terrible at it! Last week I tried hiding behind a toaster and-"
"Just... come on," Yamete groaned, heading for the door as the sounds of the revolution grew louder. Somewhere in the distance, something that sounded suspiciously like a trash can catapult was being assembled.
As they exited the palace, GLich-chan floated up to Yamete's shoulder. "You realize we're basically enabling a corrupt regime, right?"
Yamete shrugged. "Yeah, but have you seen the alternative? Last time the recycling bins were in charge, they tried to sort everyone by color."