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The Lost Chronicles of Johto (v.2)

Air Dragon

Ha, ha... not.
It's time...

And the craziness continues...

Marina looked dully at the two boys, sighing. “Of course. This is a story, not some place where all your sick, twisted fantasies can take form.”

“I am offended, Marina,” Kamon said, ripping his eyes away from the statue to look at Marina. “I am truly offended. I was merely admiring the artwork of the statue. However this pervert over here–” he nudged his head in Kenta’s direction who was standing near the statue, “–is the one who’s staring at the … badonkers on that statue.”

“Everyone loves the boobies!” Kenta said, gawking at the statue, his eyes wide.
OK, Kenta. Calm down... XD

“Ugh. Whatever!” Marina said with a huff, blowing up her bangs.

Suddenly, a single, thin steel railing drop from the sky, standing upright. Alarmed, Marina shifted Eeveesquiramachu to one hand and walked over toward the bar, poking it with her index finger. She jumped back in surprise as another bar dropped a few inches away. Steadily gaining speed, more bars began to drop from the sky, surrounding the three by all four sides. To top it off, a heavy steel-plated wall dropped on top of the bars, enclosing the three in a make-shift jail cell.

“Dammit, Marina,” muttered Kenta, hesitantly walking away from the statue to put his hands against the cold bars. “’Whatever’ must have been the secret word.”

Kamon got up from his chair and stood in between Kenta and Marina. He grabbed a hold of the bars and shook them violently, but it was to no avail – the bars stood firm. “What the hell is this?”

“I’m scurred,” Eeveesquiramachu said, sniffling.

The three trainers watched as three men in black suits walked toward them, pushing away the shrubbery with ease. The man in front was tall, his face cold and emotionless. The man to his right was chubbier but meek, looking frantically from side to side. The other man had his hands held behind his neck, sighing thoughtfully to himself. They reached the cage, and the man in front grinned nastily. “Kenta, Kamon, and Marina,” he said. “It is time for your evaluation of your story. A ‘review’ if you will.”

“Ah … Crap.”
DUN....DUN.... DUUUUUUUN!

Oh noez, not da reviews! I could literally see Psychic, Yami Ryu and Silawen dressed in mobster suits glaring the trio and their odd little fakemon down. Hope Marina has a permit for Eeveesquirrmachu!

This was golden funneh. and i don't just mean the statue...

Well, gottta run... L@er!
 

Breezy

Well-Known Member
I actually laughed out loud. ^^ * I apparently don't during comdey fics sometimes.* But it's always a good thing when I laugh out loud.
Man what to commentwhat to comment. Lol. Sexual references are always good and nice. I loved Kenta's quote. "gotta love teh boobies" O funny. ^^
I really liked Kenta's description which was in turn your beautiful description. Nicely done. *like I wouldn't expect it any other way.* ^^
I used to describe better. ._. I was a huge fan of personification, but I just lost it. Oh wellsies. Glad you found it funny though and that you actually laughed. :3

Can't wait to see what happens now. *seems like the only person here* -_-
I refer more to the views than the actual posts to see if someone is reading now lol. As long as that keeps going up, I'm pretty confident that someone is reading (not unless you or Air DARGON keep hitting my title a few times a day, lol). It's not an appeal-to-all story, so I understand why it's not read as much. :3

Oh noez, not da reviews! I could literally see Psychic, Yami Ryu and Silawen dressed in mobster suits glaring the trio and their odd little fakemon down. Hope Marina has a permit for Eeveesquirrmachu!
I've been observing, so hopefully I can get three types of reviewers right (the know-it-all, grammar nazi, and indifferent, THIS IS GREAT reviewer). Should be interesting. ^_^
 

The Houndoom

Trainer of darkness
Wow, this is the most original 'fic i've ever read! Seriously, its a work of art. I love it so much. I really hope you conitnue with this, it is such a brilliant idea.

Best part:
"Oh, I've read some of those color mood eye ficcys or whatever they're called," Jimmy remarked, pulling an apple out of his bag and biting into it with a juicy crunch. He chewed it thoughtfully before swallowing. "They're always girls. Well usually. 'Her eyes were a bright blue because she was getting her first Pokémon today, indicating she was happy.' Well, obviously she's going to be happy; any trainer would be happy to get their first Pokémon. We don't need your eyes to tell us that."

"That was actually . . . smart, Jimmy."

"Thanks Marina! I've also noticed that they don't have an eye color for horny either."

". . . . And we're back at stupid."
 

Breezy

Well-Known Member
Warning: Language, big spiders, and doctor visits. Oh, and overexcited fan girls.

Sorry for the long wait. I’m not sure why this chapter took me two months to write, but I should be better with posting now that I have a few more ideas (at least for the next chapter).

Anyway, enjoy. :p

.................................................
R-E-V-I-E-W Spells Superpowers
.................................................


“I’m not even sure where I should begin,” said the mysterious man in the middle. “There’s so much to say about your pathetic, little … Is it even a story? It’s just a bunch of rambling to me.”

“Yeah! Rambling!” piped in the chubby man, making the other two men stare at him awkwardly.

“… Right,” replied Kamon since both Marina and Kenta were too bewildered to speak. “Let’s begin with who you lot are exactly.”

The chubby man grinned. “We like to call ourselves Readers Entertained by Viewing, Interpreting and Evaluating Works.”

“R-E-V-I … Oh, for the love of god! You’re reviewers?” muttered the redhead, grabbing at the railings and shaking them. “Is that even fair? We’re not even halfway done with the first chapter!”

“All the better to get this over with then,” muttered the man in front, rubbing his temples. “This way you’ll know whether or not you’re cut out for this … story making business.”

This made Kamon raise an eyebrow. “Making a story isn’t a ‘business,’” he muttered, sighing. “Story writing should be enjoyable. You don’t get paid, you aren’t glorified; hell, you barely get recognition for it. I don’t see why I should take your word whether or not I, or we, should write or not. I write for myself.”

“Likewise, you’re hoping for some sort of recognition by posting on the Internet, so that whole entire ‘I write for myself, and I don‘t care what anyone else thinks’ is just a whole lot of bullshit,” coolly replied the man in front. “Anyway, do you mind printing out a few copies of your story for us to read? We’ll start from there.”

With a poke in the side and a nudge in the shoulder, Marina, her eyes wide, snapped Kenta out of his daze and pointed toward the computer with a shaky finger. Groaning, Kenta trudged his way toward the computer and plopped himself in the chair, grabbing the sides of the table so the chair would stop moving. After several clicks and the shaking of machinery, the rattling and rumbling of the printer commenced, coughing up sheet after sheet of story. With a squeak of wheels, Kenta pushed himself backward in the chair toward the bars, his hand tightly gripping the sheets. He then reluctantly slipped the papers in between the gap of the bars and into the willing hands of the man in front, a mischievous grin on his face.

“Give us a minute,” said the man with the apathetic face as the three reviewers turned around and walked a little bit away from the three trainers, their heads bent over as they read the story.

Being evaluated and reviewed was an odd sensation to Kamon. It kind of felt like he were an animal in the zoo (though being caged probably helped allude to that). He felt powerless; he couldn’t stop the reviewers from judging him. There were only so many things he could do as they pried him with a stick: Growl back or act nice in hopes of getting fed a peanut.

Kamon watched the reviewers with observant eyes. The leader, who he officially dubbed the Cynical Asshole, or C.A. for short, was marking up his paper with a smirk while the chubby one, who he called a Fat Load of Persuasion (or Fat Load) since he seemed unable to form his own opinion, was peeking back and forth between his peers sneakily (or what, Kamon assumed, Fat Load thought was sneaky). The third, he noticed, was flipping through the pages more quickly than his colleagues, occasionally marking up the paper with his red pen.

Minutes passed – though it felt likes hours – until the reviewers came back, the Cynical Asshole flapping the papers in his hand mockingly, making Kamon snarl. The three trainers then watched as C.A snapped his fingers, and magically, the bars began to disintegrate before their eyes, melting into a pool of something black and ink-like before being absorbed mysteriously by the grass itself.

Silence. Tense, awkward silence.

There was a slight squeak, the rustling of grass underneath a fidgety foot, and the clearing of the throat that caught everyone’s attention. The sound came from no one other than the Fat Load and a squirming, twitchy one at that.

Rubbing his lips together to moisten them, the Fat Load began, “It’s okay. I guess. I like that you started off in a different way with the whole getting lost … thing instead of some terrible, cliché beginning.”

This caused C.A. to roll his eyes. “Jumping straight into character description is a terrible way to start a chapter, especially in a huge, wall-of-text way like that. There wasn't anything necessarily interesting about it either. No hook. No anything.”

Fat Load immediately jumped in place and nodded frantically. “Right! Yeah! You’re right!”

“I mean, I’ll give you credit,” started C.A., reading through his notes, paying no attention to his squealing, porky colleague. “You tried to make it so it wasn’t just pounding of character description after character description by trying to embed it with action. You failed, obviously. But nice try. Pat on the back. Etcetera.”

It was Marina’s turn to grumble since she was the one that dealt with the first portion of the chapter.

C.A. continued, ignoring the growls coming from Marina. “And there’s something … ridiculously random about your entire piece. You hop from this cannabis idea to whatever … that thing is–” at this, he pointed toward the hissing Eeveesquiramachu on Marina’s shoulder, “–to that statue thing.” He turned his head toward the glimmering, goddess-like statue that Kamon and Kenta wrote about earlier. “All in the span of three pages as well. Are you just writing whatever comes to mind?”

The three said nothing since it was true.

C.A. rolled his eyes. “What about you?” he asked the man to his left as Fat Load was still squirming and squeaking to himself. “Don’t you have anything to say?”

The gawky man that Kamon forgot to nickname (he supposed he didn’t care what he would say) shrugged and flipped through his papers. “Hmm … Well, you forgot a comma after ‘Hi, guys,’ when Eeveesquir–whatever started talking. Oh, and you should have used ‘your’ instead of ‘you’re,’ but I forgot where. Other than that, good job!” He gave the thumbs up, smiling wide.

This caused C.A. and the three trainers to blink twice. “Is that all you’ve got to say?” murmured C.A., slapping his forehead.

“What?” asked the nameless reviewer. “You mean you can comment on more besides grammer?”

Sighing, C.A. continued to speak on behalf of his colleagues. “You really need to work on developing your ideas properly. Everything seems so half-baked and-”

Then there was a loud squeal, almost pig-like, that interrupted C.A. though the group ignored it as the cry of a wild Pidgey getting chomped on by a Houndour. But the squeal became louder and more frantic, and the sound of wings flapping among the trees and the scampering of tiny feet floated in their direction. The scampering turned into thumping and then frenzied pounding as a girl, probably no older than thirteen with long, untamed hair and wild, brown eyes, came running into the clearing. She then stopped, her crazy eyes sweeping over the terrain before landing on Kenta sitting in the computer chair who felt the eccentric presence target him, causing him to shriek, terrified. With another loud squeal as a battle cry, she beelined toward him, thrusting herself upon his puzzled, startled self, and the two collided into a heap of human bodies and computer chair parts, the wheels from the chair spinning.

“Kenta!” she shrieked happily, clenching onto him tightly like a vice. “You’re sooooo hot!”

“Uh …” Kenta didn’t know how to respond as Kamon raised an eyebrow and Marina covered her mouth to hide her giggles.

“Ugh. I thought we ditched your sister back in Goldenrod,” complained C.A., watching the spectacle in front of him.

“Her love of Kenta is like a magnet,” replied Fat Load quietly, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “It doesn’t surprise me that she found us, or him, really.” He waddled over toward the shrilling Kenta and the screaming girl and pried the girl off the poor boy. He then held on tight to her hips as she kicked and screeched, her arms flailing as she tried to reach for Kenta who was groggily getting back onto his feet.

“Lemme go!” she whined, trying to scratch at her brother. “I must breathe in his scent! I must whiff in his soul!”

C.A. muttered a stream of incoherent curse words before handing the squirming girl a copy of the trainers’ story. “Here. Read this. It has your ‘precious’ in it. Tell us what you think.”

Fat Load released the Fan Girl (as Kamon dubbed her his mind) as soon as she grabbed the paper, her eyes darting across the pages, flipping through them in a mad rush. She then released another high pitched squeal and threw the papers up into the air. The papers scattered and fluttered toward earth in a dizzying spiral.

“It’s great!” she exclaimed gleefully. Fan Girl then raised her arms, wiggling all ten of her fingers. “Ten out of ten! Five stars! Three Pikachus and a Pichu!”

Anyway …” C.A. sighed as Fan Girl began to goggle at a restless Kenta again, a thin stream of drool tricking from her mouth down her chin. “You need to work on properly developing your ideas, and, you know, having something that attracts your readers other than your presence in the story. Because really, you’re going to only have freaks like these–” he nudged his head toward Fan Girl blowing a bewildered Kenta kisses, “–end up reading your story, and I don’t think that’s what you were aiming for.” He then motioned with his head toward the forest behind him. “Until then though, we’re out of here. Drag your sister, will you?”

Fat Load grumbled but grabbed Fan Girl by the hips again, dragging her by the heels, and the four exited into some shrubbery, brushing past them again with ease.

“Update soon!” Fan Girl cried cheerfully, waving wildly toward the three trainers. All of a sudden, rage and fire overtook her calm, brown eyes, and her hair began to blow uncontrollably in the wind. Then she growled, her voice lower than usual, “Or else I will hunt you down and murder you! Slowly … But pleasantly.” She then giggled. “Okay, bye!”

Blink.

Shudder.

Twitch.

“What the fuck was that?” observed Kenta after those few seconds of shock passed over the three trainers. “Are all girls that crazy?”

“Only fan girls,” replied Kamon dully, walking over to the computer desk. “Irritating, crazy, hyperactive fan girls. Anyway, that was annoying. Why should we listen to those three dolts?”

The girl shrugged in reply, picking up the fallen computer chair off the ground and dusting it off before sitting down in it. “I mean, they got a point,” Marina remarked, setting Eeveesquiramachu in her lap. “Where exactly are we going with this? We’re just writing what’s on the top of our mind. We never took a moment to plan or figure out what will attract readers or … anything. We need something that sets us apart.”

Thus commenced the process of planning. Kamon paced the ground in front of the computer desk, his arms clasped behind his back, his eyebrows furrowed, flattening grass and daffodils beneath his sneakers while Marina sat in the computer chair, her head bowed down thoughtfully as she idly ran her hands through a sleeping Eeveesquiramachu’s fur. She looked up, admiring the night sky. The reviewers were with them so long that the drowsy night air overcame the twilight sky, the sparkling stars more apparent, and the glowing silver of the moon basking the clearing in an eerie yet romantic glow.

Kenta, however, didn’t want to bother with this “thinking” thing and blurted out the first thing that came to mind. Snapping his fingers, he said, “Let’s get superpowers!”

Both Kamon and Marina snapped their heads up glared at their sheepishly smiling friend at this statement.

“It’s kind of original isn‘t it?”

More glares.

“Don’t judge it until we try it out,” remarked Kenta, running past the golden statue (though he did give it a quick look up and down) and toward the bushes. He stopped, dropping onto his knees and brushing past the shrubbery, his hands getting scratched up by the sharp branches of the bush. He then sought what he was searching for; a spider. Tenderly, the boy put his finger into the spider’s sticky web, and the spider crawled onto it.

Excited, Kenta carefully pushed himself up and walked over toward the two, Marina, squeaking in fear, jumped up from the seat and ran behind Kamon as she clutched Eeveesquiramachu tightly. Kamon, meanwhile, raised an eyebrow, amused. “Look, guys! A spider! Maybe it’s radioactive! Maybe I’ll get spider powers!”

Kamon peered down at the spider in Kenta’s hand. Granted, it wasn’t the hugest of spiders, but it was big enough to send shivers down his spine. It was brown and hairy, its long legs wrapping themselves around Kenta’s fingers.

“It’s fate,” Kenta said firmly, nodding, switching hands to hold the spider, marveling at it. “It’s fate that I found it in the bush. It must mean it’s special thus making ME special. So I must get superpowers!”

The redhead rubbed his temples at this statement. “I don’t think it’s fate, Kenta. I think a lot of spiders make their webs in bushes,” replied Kamon, noticing the quivering Marina brushing up against him. He pushed her away. “And for Raikou’s sake, Marina! It’s just a spider! Stop touching me!”

“I don’t care,” she squeaked, trembling as Eeveesquirmachu squeezed out her grasp and crawled onto her shoulder, patting her on the head comfortingly. “It’s still disgusting!”

This made Kenta smirk. He walked over to Marina, holding out the hand that held the spider. “Touch it,” he dared, his eyes glinting with mischievousness.

“No!” screamed the girl, backing away from Kenta s he advanced on her. “Get the hell away, Kenta!”

“Not until you touch it!”

“Touch what?” mentioned a chuckling Kamon, though his comment was ignored due to the girl’s screaming.

“I said get away!” she shrieked, knocking Kenta’s arms away from her.

Time went in slow motion once the spider flew up from Kenta’s hand and into the night air. All four of them looked up, open-mouthed, as the spider flipped not once, not twice, but three times. It then slowly fell toward earth, spiraling, before landing on Kenta’s forearm. Clearly angry, the spider hissed before reeling backward onto its back legs, showing off its fangs. It then bit deeply into Kenta’s arm and then ripped its fangs away triumphantly, breaking flesh, causing a trickle of blood to run down the boy's arm.

Startled, Kenta used his free hand to knock the spider away, flicking it off his arm. He then fell backwards, his body going stiff, his jaw dropped, knocking his head hard against the dirt. Stars blurred his vision, and he felt his body quake, the fresh wound on his arm stinging against the cold wind.

“I think you killed him,” was the last thing he heard uttered from Kamon’s mouth. “Good job, Marina.”

- - -​

When Kenta stirred from unconsciousness, he realized he wasn’t in Kentucky anymore.

Or the forest.

Or whatever.

Wait. Wasn’t it Kansas?

He shifted a bit, hearing the crinkling of paper underneath his bottom. Through squinted eyes, he noticed a bright light swinging over his head (though it could be his own eyes deceiving him) and some sort of hard, rough padding beneath his back which he assumed was suppose to cushion him, but it made him feel more stiff. It was cold, cold enough to prick up the hairs on his arms. There was a distinct stench in the air, smelling like an odd combination of latex gloves and bitter medicine he was force fed when he was younger.

“… Don't worry, Marina,” he heard someone say as his hazy vision became crisper. “It is just a spider bite.”

“It can’t be ’just a spider bite’ if he has a swelling the size of a golf ball,” replied Marina worriedly, peering over Kenta’s body. He tried his best not to squirm uncomfortably underneath the girl’s gaze; there was something about Marina staring at him so anxiously that made him feel an odd, awkward sensation in the pit of his stomach.

Kenta opened his eyes a bit more and saw the doctor rub his fingers down his chiseled jaw line before stopping at his short, curly brown beard. “True. It would be easier to diagnosis if you brought the spider with you, but I work with what I have.”

“So … so it’s not radioactive or anything like that, Doctor?” the girl asked naively, nervously scratching a purring Eeveesquiramachu behind the ear.

“Of course not,” the doctor chuckled, pushing up the frames of his square glasses. “It’s not radioactive. It was a regular, ole spider. A big one. But a regular one nonetheless.”

“Fuck that,” Kenta murmured, sitting up, feeling woozy. His head was pounding, and the tips of his fingers were throbbing. Heat penetrated beneath the thick, white bandage that covered his bite. “My spidey sense is tingling!”

“That’s nerve damage,” replied the doctor in a dull voice. He looked from Kenta’s wound to his two friends standing next to the table he sat upon. “He should be fine; it was only a dry bite, and if there was any venom, it should have bled out. It’ll scab over in a few weeks.” The doctor turned around and picked up a clipboard behind it. He pulled out a pen and scribbled on a piece of paper clipped on the clipboard, the pen scratching against the hard, wooden surface. “Now if you excuse me, I have to attend to another patient. You‘re free to go as you please. Make sure you don’t scratch it, Kenta.” And with that, the doctor left, swinging open the heavy, metal door and letting it close slowly behind him.

“Yeah, yeah.” The boy hopped off the table, barely able to balance on his wobbly legs, and then patted the top of his head, feeling the silk of his hair. He then turned around, glaring, noticing the Eeveesquiramachu wearing his cap in a backward fashion on Marina’s shoulder.

“Aren’t I cute?” giggled the freak, putting its claws over its mouth to contain its laughter.

Kenta stomped over to the girl, the pounding of his shoes slapping on the tile floor echoing through the tiny room, and snatched the hat from Eeveesquiramachu’s head, promptly slapping its furry, little, hybrid head soon after. The being cried, causing Marina to glare at Kenta and sock him in the arm as always.

“Quit picking on Eevee … squir … am … You know what?” Marina picked up the crying hybrid from her shoulder and cradled it in her arms soothingly. She leaned against the table Kenta was lying on and rocked her arms back and forth in a peaceful manner. “We should nickname you so we don’t have to call you that ridiculously long name anymore. Would you like that?”

Eeveesquiramachu nodded, rubbing its eyes to wipe away the tears. “But what?” it asked innocently.

“Ugh, nothing that Marina picks hopefully,” muttered Kenta, rubbing his arm where Marina punched him. He quickly sidestepped as Marina swung at him again. “Hit me, baby. One more time.”

“I would if you stopped moving,” grumbled Marina, putting the now calm Eeveesquiramachu back on her shoulder. “What’s wrong with my nicknames? I like the nicknames for my Pokémon!”

Kamon, who had stayed quiet all this time, piped in, “Well, they’re pretty … uncreative. I mean, Pink for a Jigglypuff? Oh, and let’s not mention that you spelled ‘Miss’ wrong for your Misdreavus‘ nickname, Little Mis or something like that. And what the hell is a Wani or whatever the hell your Croconaw is called?”

“There’s only one ‘s’ in ’Misdreavus,’” snapped Marina, glaring at the redhead who looked toward the ceiling and whistled to himself innocently. “And I think a wani is some sort of sea monster in Japanese mythology. Or something. I forgot. Either way, there’s nothing wrong with my nicknames.”

“Aren’t there–” Kenta counted on his fingers, looking up thoughtfully, “–two s’s in Misdreavus?”

“You know what I mean. But if you think you’re so good at pet names,” at this, Marina hopped on the table and smiled smugly at the frowning Kamon, “why don’t you think of a name for Eeveesquiramachu?”

“Fine. I’ll teach you a thing or two too,“ muttered the redhead, leaning on the desk. “The key to a good pet name,” he began, closing his eyes and holding his pointer finger up, causing his two companions to look at each other with dismay, “is the combination of affectionate nouns. Honeybuns, for example. Sweetiepie. Babyboo.”

“Bunnytits?” remarked Kenta absentmindedly.

“Ooh, good one.”

Kenta played with his bangs, oblivious to his earlier comment, trying to adjust it into his regular hairstyle before adjusting the sides of his hat to fit snugly around his head. Finally satisfied, it finally dawned on him at what he said, and his eyes widened at the possibilities. “Oh, sweet Raikou. I am dubbing thee Bunnytits, Bunnytits!”

“No!” exclaimed a peeved Marina, her nose wrinkling in disgust. “We are not calling Eeveesquiramachu that! I like Babyboo, like Kamon suggested.”

“That was more of an example,” murmured Kamon, rolling his eyes to the side.

“Come, Bunnytits!” Kenta said happily, ignoring the fuming girl and patting his shoulder warmly. “We’ll just be like Ash and Pikachu except I’ve gone through puberty and am not asexual like a plant!”

“Neato!” cried Bunnytits, hopping from Marina’s shoulder to Kenta’s and wrapping its curly tail around Kenta’s neck. “We’ll be the best of friends!” And with that Kenta, a smug smile on his face and his shoulder triumphantly lifted, marched out the door with an eye rolling Kamon behind him.

The girl gaped, her mouth wide. “Doesn’t anyone listen to me anymore?” Marina cried out in anguish, placing her hands on her hips and scuffing the cold, tile flooring with the ball of her foot. Annoyed that the two left without her, she trudged behind, her shoulder feeling bare without “Bunnytits’” presence no longer on it. She walked down the long hallway of the doctor’s office, the tips of her shoelaces getting caught in the rough, blue carpet in the process. The automated glass doors opened in front of her with a pleasing swishing noise, and the chilly, biting air nipped at her bare flesh. She then headed toward a bench where Kamon and Kenta sat, a sleek, silver laptop stationed on Kenta’s lap.

“Psh!” she heard Kenta snort, watching him blow up the bangs that danced across his forehead. “Kicking and punching when you’re asleep is not a symptom of Periodic Limb Movement Disorder! It’s called fighting crime in your sleep!”

“You’re not going to give up this ‘superpower’ thing easily, are you?” Marina questioned, sitting next to the redhead. She leaned over a bit to look at the screen.

“Of course not,” replied Kenta, not looking up from the screen. “Obviously if you wear a hat in the Pokémon world, especially in a ridiculous fashion like mine, that means you’re hardheaded and idiotic.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” Kenta quickly replied, his eyes darting back and forth suspiciously. Licking his dry, cracked lips, Kenta’s eyebrows began to furrow together as he scrolled down the screen quicker, searching a medical website for more “superhero” symptoms as fondly typed up in the search engine. He then yelped in surprise as Kamon swiped the laptop away from him.

Ignoring the howling hat-wearing boy and his chattering Bunnytits, Kamon clicked out of Kenta’s web browser and pulled a USB flash stick from his pocket, inserting it into its appropriate slot. “I do have an idea,” he muttered, starting up the word processor and opening the file that their story was on. “About getting people’s attention, anyway. I myself don’t like it in any way, shape or form, but it should be … ‘fun’ to write about. At least for me.” He then smirked, causing Kenta and Marina to look at each other suspiciously. This made his sneer grow wider. “Very fun indeed.”

-----------------------------------------------------------​

HELL YES Bunnytits.

LaTeR dAyZ! :D
 
Last edited:

The Houndoom

Trainer of darkness
Uhh, you put chucked instead of chuckled a few times.. Unless it was supposed to be chucked o_O
Lol anyway, pretty funny with the R-E-V-I-E-Wers lol and the Fan Girl. Loved the chapter, and how the girl got really wierd about not updating the story, its just like what some people do XD It has been VERY FUN INDEED to read this ;)
Really, just posting to say i loved it, i laughed at it and have read it.
 

Breezy

Well-Known Member
Uhh, you put chucked instead of chuckled a few times.. Unless it was supposed to be chucked o_O
Lol anyway, pretty funny with the R-E-V-I-E-Wers lol and the Fan Girl. Loved the chapter, and how the girl got really wierd about not updating the story, its just like what some people do XD It has been VERY FUN INDEED to read this ;)
Really, just posting to say i loved it, i laughed at it and have read it.
Fixed. I think. Not unless my find feature is on the fritz. XP Thanks for noticing. ^^

I've encountered reviews like that (not here, another place), and they really are that crazy. And scary. *shudder* Lol.

I'm glad you liked it though, and thanks for reviewing. =)
 

Air Dragon

Ha, ha... not.
yerse! Finally!

Get ready for the mayhem... BOOM!

L@er!
 

jirachiman876

The King of Kirby
I died at Bunnytits. Perfect freakin name. Lol. O god. *can't stop laughing*
I actually thought the reviewers would say more about it. It also didn't seem that they stayed very long like you said in the story.
Supapowas are awesome! They should have some! *Not really* lol.
I don't know about Kamon's idea but I think I'm gonna find it hilarious.
I totally get like the fangirl about updating fics. ^^; So, you better update soon or I shall suck out your Power of Existance where you will be come a torch until you burn out and die. *Anime reference, 50 points to whoever gets it right*
jirachiman out ;385;
 

Breezy

Well-Known Member
yerse! Finally!

Get ready for the mayhem... BOOM!

L@er!
The next chapter should be filled with awesome, cheesy pick up lines. Love it. <3 hahaha.

I died at Bunnytits. Perfect freakin name. Lol. O god. *can't stop laughing*
I actually thought the reviewers would say more about it. It also didn't seem that they stayed very long like you said in the story.
Supapowas are awesome! They should have some! *Not really* lol.
I don't know about Kamon's idea but I think I'm gonna find it hilarious.
I totally get like the fangirl about updating fics. ^^; So, you better update soon or I shall suck out your Power of Existance where you will be come a torch until you burn out and die. *Anime reference, 50 points to whoever gets it right*
jirachiman out ;385;
Everyone love Bunnytits.

Well no. Reviewers from other sites responded in more of "wtf Bunnytits?!" sort of way. T'was amusing. X3

I don't know why, but the reviewer part was extremely hard for me to write. I was going to parody author responses via Kamon, Kenta, and Marina (three versions of course), but it sounded ... meh. This probably won't be the last time you see the reviewers though; they'll come back as the story progresses.

Fan girlssssss. I was gonna quote the "I must breathe in his soul" part as a quote in my sig, but I think people would think I'm a freak.

Or freakier.

o_O
 

TurtwigFan1

burning it down
A very funny chapter Breezy! I loved the bit when Kenta said, 'F*** that. My spidey senses are tingling!'. It really made me laugh out loud, even though it uses explicit language! Keep up the great work Breezeh!
 

jirachiman876

The King of Kirby
You should do it anyway Breezeh. I bet a lot of people would laugh at it. Say it's like a quote from a Fangirl, or something funny like that.
I hope to see the reviewers again, cause I did think it could have been done better. I personally probably couldn't have done it, but I know you can. ^^ You're just that awesome. *runs off before he gets eaten by rabid fanboys*
jirachiman out ;385;
 

Breezy

Well-Known Member
I probably will if I run out of ideas again. =3 Gotta research a bit. I've only been reading SPPf reviews, so I gotta branch out to other sites. Most of them do fall under the same stereotypes though.

I've been reviewing again to get some author feedback that I can make fun of. Kekeke.
 

Breezy

Well-Known Member
Warning: I don't know, but I'd feel weird if we didn't have a warning line in bold. Actually, it is a lot more curse-happy for some reason. Blame Kamon.

So HG/SS was released today (or something), so I decided to mix up the chapters and write the game-parody chapter instead of the shipping one.

“But, Bree, it doesn't work with the last hint in your last chapter!”

Psh. Crack doesn't need to make sense. Psh.

I also decided to tone down Kenta's personality. I'm an equal opportunist. All three characters are going to have their fair share of crazy.

Enjoy!

.................................................
They Call Me the POKéMON PROF!
.................................................


“Oh, hey, Marina. Did you know they're remaking the Gold and Silver games?”

“... How did you get the laptop again? I just had it in my lap.”

Kenta shrugged off the redhead's question as he continued to scroll down on the web browser he opened up on the laptop. “Yeah. They're calling them Soulsilver and Heartgold.”

“What kind of name is that?”

Kamon's questions went unheard again as Kenta waved it off, his eyes squinting at the screen. “Haa ... Marina. You're going to be mad.”

Marina sat on her knees and leaned across the redhead, much to his dismay. “Why?” she asked curiously as Kamon let out several huffs of breath, blowing the girl's blue hair away from his face. It was in vain, though, for Marina's thick locks swayed back into place right in his line of vision.

Kenta turned the laptop toward the girl, and Marina's eyes squinted a bit as she read the text on screen. Slowly, the boy scrolled down until a picture of two trainers appeared. The trainer on the left looked similarly to Kenta: backward yellow cap complete with his weird arch of black hair. He, too, had the same clothing on with the exception of his shorts being black instead of yellow. The girl on the right, although similar looking to Marina, was not Marina, her hair brown instead of blue and her clothing drastically different.

Now, Marina, not being the ... brightest color in the crayon box, immediately screamed. “What the hell!” she doth protested, shaking a fist. “That girl totally took my style! Not cool! Not cute!”

Kenta and Kamon looked at each other before Kenta muttered, “Yeah, since you noticed that this girl isn't you, obviously–”

“Obviously,” Marina interrupted, huffing and blowing up her bangs. She pulled away from the laptop and fell flat on her bottom, crossing her arms.

“Then put two and two together, Marina. If this girl, who obviously isn't you, is in the game, then that must mean ...” He trailed off, watching the girl, preparing himself for the worst.

Marina merely blinked. “What?”

“My god, Marina. Are you always this slow?” Kamon rolled his eyes. “They booted you. You're not in the remakes.”

“But I wasn't in the original Gold and Silver anyway ...?” She scratched her head as Bunnytits hopped off Kenta's shoulder and onto her lap, purring as he/she/it cuddled against her stomach.

“That's not the point. You should be enraged.”

“But I wasn't in the–”

“Enraged, I said!” Kamon interrupted, eye twitching.

Marina's slender fingers made their way toward the back of Bunnytit's ear, scratching him/her/it there, making him/her/it purr louder, thumping a hybrid foot off whatever pokémon it came from against the bench. “Why?”

“I mean, think about it logically, Marina,” chimed in Kenta. “Us three,” he motioned toward himself, then Kamon, then finally the girl, “are the main characters of the original Gold, Silver, and Crystal. I, as Gold, the charming, handsome male protagonist,” at this, he adjusted the collar of his shirt, making his two companion groan, “Kamon, as Silver, the slightly emo, angsty, freaking-hates-the-world rival–”

“It wasn't emo. I was a very angry child is all,” the red-head defended himself.

“Uh huh. And you were the girl protagonist with the huge boobs. But now they replaced you with That Dutch Girl even though they had a perfectly good girl character with perfectly nice boobs.”

Kamon snorted as Marina glared at Kenta. “I resent that!” she exclaimed, raising her arms to cover her upper torso.

“You say it like it's a bad thing. Or like all the other girl protagonists didn't have huge racks or something.”

“Admittedly, May's were the hugest,” added Kamon.

“Oh, everyone knows that. Well, I do anyway. They toned down on Dawn's, though.”

“Yeah, but they gave her a short skirt. I mean, even when they revamped her for that winter suit, or whatever, her skirt was STILL short. It's all about proportion. If the girl doesn't have a huge rack, she's showing a lot leg. Like That Dutch Girl here.” Kamon gestured toward the glowing laptop screen. “Although she's wearing tube socks to hide leg, it's obvious that she has it. Like a tease.”

“Yes, yes,” replied Kenta, rubbing his chin as if the two boys were talking about something profound.

“I'm resenting it more now. Now you like That Dutch Girl more than me?” whined Marina, clutching Bunnytits to her ... chest. The hybrid squeaked at this.

“No one said that,” murmured Kenta, scrolling further down the browser.

“But you implied it!” she further screeched, pouting.

“How did I imply anything? Kamon is the one that's being perverted now.”

“Compared to what? You were the one that made that statue, gaped at said statue, named that ... that thing Bunnytits–” Kamon paused as the eeveesquiramachu sneezed before snorting, turning around in Marina's lap, “– along with ... with that–”

“Boner scene!” Kenta answered cheerfully. “That, ahem, never happened.”

“Right.” Sighing, Kamon looked up toward the sky where winking stars filled the nighttime canvas. A cool breeze blew by, lifting his bangs from his forehead. He licked his cracked lips. “So update me, Kenta. When does this monstrosity come out anyway?”

“Soon,” the hat-wearing boy answered. A smirk rose to his lips. “Hey, they updated you, too.”

The red-head raised an eyebrow, still not ripping his eyes away from the sky. A hoothoot twittered in the trees. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Kenta answered again. “You know how your old picture had this smirking disposition that cried, 'Hey, I'm going to be an asshat to YOU' kind of thing? Like, all firm like? Like today's the day! Today I'm going to be a douchebag!”

“You know, I should probably smack you into next Tuesday for that, but continue.”

“Yeah. Your new one kind of has a–” Kenta looked up at from the screen, put a confused look on his face and shrugged, cocking his head to the side, his palms flat, “–'Eh, you know what? I guess I'll be an asshat today. For the lulz' feel to it. Like you're not sure if you want to be a douchebag. Like you're contemplating it. Not as aggressive, you know?” He dropped his arms, sighing like his rival next to him. “Good times.”

“Whatever.” Eyes trailing toward the side, Kamon remarked, “You're quiet,” to Marina.

Marina turned her head to the side, avoiding eye contact of the two boys next to her, squeezing Bunnytits tighter. “Sorry,” she murmured. “Just thinking is all.”

“Oh, come on, Marina. We're just kidding about the whole you not being in the new remakes thing.”

“Well, that really wasn't a joke. She really isn't,” said Kamon.

Kenta dropped the laptop into Kamon's lap, ignoring the glare that came with it. “I mean, why would you want to be in the remakes?” Kenta added, ignoring Kamon's statement. “Kamon looks like a pansy – yeah, like your pansy hits are going to actually hurt me now, pansy.” He smiled cheekily as Kamon socked him in the arm again. “And That Dutch Girl probably isn't that nice either. And she totally stole your look.”

The girl merely sniffled, bowing her head. “Y-you're ju-just saying t-that,” she stuttered in a cracked voice. She carefully placed a sleeping Bunnytits on the bench and wiped at eyes with her dainty hands.

Kenta stared at the back of her head. “Really. I'm not. You're much more uniquer than That Dutch Girl. It's obvious.”

Kamon looked back and forth between the worried, brown eyes of Kenta and the quivering form of Marina. “Oookay,” he dragged out in an exaggerated voice, “if you're going to take this moment to get into Marina's pants, Kenta, then I'd rather not be in the middle of it.” Kamon grabbed the laptop, closed it and quickly stood up, walking to the back of the bench and leaning against it.

Because of her loud sniffles, Marina didn't coherently hear Kamon, but Kenta did, who immediately snapped his head and glared at him.

“Be quiet,” he hissed, scooting a bit's away from Marina, his cheeks flushing light pink.

“Whatever.” The red-head rolled his eyes, gripping the closed laptop tight between rough fingertips. “So I've been thinking about our new story idea,” he said to change the subject. “Since you brought up the games, maybe we should write about them. I mean, it's not my favorite idea, but maybe if we start off with similar lines from the games then develop our own story, we'll get readers that way. Everyone loves stories based off the games.”

“What? Why?” Kenta raised an eyebrow, the flush in his cheeks dying down. “Why would someone read a story about a game they could play?”

“Goddamn this chapter is very italic happy today.”

Kenta waved the comment off with a motion of his hand, turning around on the bench to stare at the back of the Kamon's head. Another small wind whipped throughout the clearing, scattering dead leaves across the dirt path. “Really, why?”

He shrugged. “I don't know. I mean, I saw a story based on the third generation games – Brendan and May or whatever – that had over a thousand reviews on not one site, but two. Two, Kenta! And it wasn't even that good! There were talking pokémon for lugia's sake! And holy crap, that reminds me – I skimmed to the end, and it was at the league battles, and freakin' Brendan didn't even win! Kids spent weeks and weeks reading sixty something chapters of that shit and he doesn't even win!”

“That's actually kind of funny. Suckers.”

He laughed. “A little.” Kamon shook his head, clearing his throat. “Er, anyway. Point being is that people like reading stories based off the games. So maybe we can try that.”

Another hoothoot cried out, and the three trainers absentmindedly heard the beating of wings and the swooshing of wind as the creature dove down toward them before swinging back up, wings spread out. A feather loosened itself from the owl's body, drifting down toward them in a slow spiral before regaining stability and floating toward the left. It then started to spiral down again, landing on the dirt floor. Another breeze, and it kicked up a bit, the lights of the pokemon center ahead making its dark brown coloring look lighter, like a light brown. The color of dirt, really. No one was watching it. There really was no point in describing it. Whatever.

“Oh, ho, random description. Love it,” muttered Kenta, giving the thumb's up before stretching his arms out and resting them on the back of the bench. He slouched a bit, kicking his feet out. He examined his shoes; they were caked with mud.

“I'll write it,” murmured a quiet voice. “If we're doing a game-based 'fic.”

Both boys turned their head toward Marina. She stared back at them, blue eyes wide. Another puff of wind made her pigtails blow behind her shoulders. “I mean, if I'm not going to be in the new games, then we shouldn't waste time switching between ourselves. I'll write it and you guys can shout out suggestions. Or whatever.”

There was an awkward silence until Kamon handed her the laptop. “Well, okay,” he muttered.

A click resounded as Marina pried the lid of the laptop open. She pressed a button, and the screen turned back on with a slight sizzling noise, like bugs jumping on the the grill of a hot car. “So how exactly would this story start?” she questioned, opening the document that held their story. “Are we going word by word or what?”

“Maybe. We should at least try to keep with it,” answered Kamon. “Do any of you have any of the games on you?”

Kenta nodded and pulled his backpack toward the front, unzipping the smaller pocket. He dug around, pulling out various items (both Kamon and Marina didn't bother to ask why he carried such shit around, like a teddiursa figurine, paper clips, and a CD clearly labeled “Greatest ABBA hits”) before tugging out a Gameboy Advanced, its white, plastic protection covered in dried chocolate. He scratched it off with his index finger before handing it to Marina. More digging resumed, pulling out more odd things, before Kenta, triumphantly, raised his hand in the air. Held in between his fingers was a cartridge, transparent blue in colored with silver glittered embedded in it.

“Pokémon Crystal should suffice. It mimics Silver and Gold pretty closely in the beginning,” he said, handing the game to Marina.

Marina slid the chunky cartridge into the back of the GBA and looked for the switch. She felt it at the bottom and turned it on. A black line appeared, but she shook it. The effects didn't change. After more shaking, the girl, frustrated, finally slapped it hard against the flat of her palm. The device finally responded, and the game finally came on screen. “Forgot how crappy these things were. Thanks for bringing up bad memories, Kenta.”

“You're wholeheartedly welcome.” He smiled cheekily again.

Marina didn't respond as she played with the GBA. Kenta heard the game make the occasional beep–

And suddenly there was nothing. Only ... blue. Pale blue. The pokémon center was gone, as was the forest, and so was the bench along with his friends.

Kenta scratched his head – wait, he had no head. He looked around, trying to feel for his face. No hands either. No face either (which should be obvious as he had no head). How was he even thinking? A multitude of questions came up, most of which he didn't know the answer to, about true being, the philosophy of thought: can you really think without no brain? How do you instinctively grab for your face when you have no face and are clearly aware of it, and how exactly are you grabbing for it when you know you have no hands? He then thought, “Eff it,” and continued to stand – or sit, or whatever the hell he was doing.

“Are you a boy?” a voice boomed, making him jump back – assuming he had legs.

“Who is talking?” Kenta shouted back, his voice echoing in the pale blue room. “Are you Jesus? Grant me wishes, Jesus!”

“Or are you a girl?” the deep voice added, ignoring Kenta's comment.

There was quiet and Kenta looked around, trying to figure out if the voice was talking to him.

“Wait. Let me guess.” More beeping before the voice stuttered, “G-girl ...?”

Kenta heard something snicker – so Kamon was around here, too. “Man, you just got burned by Marina, Kenta. I swear to god, Marina, if I knew where I was, I would high five you right now.”

“Eff you, Kamon,” he responded dryly.

There was a giggle, a girly one. “Why, thank you, Kamon. I appreciate the comment ... I think.”

Kenta snapped his head (dammit, he forgot he had no head) to the side and noticed Marina, her legs crossed, sitting in a plushy leather chair in front of a mahogany desk (the same one the left back in the forest, he noted), the laptop placed in front of her. The eeveesquiramachu was sleeping on the table next to the device, his/her/its ear twitching as it dreamed. Marina looked up as if she knew Kenta was looking at her and smiled.

“Well, answer, you,” she remarked.

“You already know the answer to that,” he muttered back dully.

He watched her roll her eyes (the physics of this story or world – or whatever – were too complicated for him to care about anymore). “Deep throat doesn't,” she replied slyly.

“Let's make that deep voice instead, huh?” murmured Kamon.

“Why? What's wrong with deep thro–”

“Dammit, Kenta. Just answer the question,” the red-head (again, the mechanics of how we know he actually is still a red-head doesn't matter) interrupted.

Kenta huffed out in annoyance. “For lugia's sake – fine. Boy.”

There was another change in background at his answer, the pale blue walls darkening to black.

“.............................................”

“.............................................”

“... For god's sake, Marina! What the hell are you doing?”

“Don't blame me, Kamon. The game starts off with rows and rows of ellipses!”

“Ugh. Whatever!”

Kenta heard Marina press a few buttons on the GBA before resuming her typing. The deep voice returned.

“Zzz ... Hm? Wha ...? You woke me up!”

Kenta, standing (or sitting ... possibly leaning) in the room of blackness, looked around, questioning if the voice was talking to him.

“For the record, weakling, you're the game's protagonist. All questions are addressed to you,” murmured Kamon.

“Oh. Right.”

“Will you check the clock for me?”

Kenta, puzzled, asked, “Marina, why am I in the room of some old man? And how did I wake up him if I'm just standing here? I'm not sure how to feel about this. Is this game saying that I'm creepy because I'm in the room of an old man just when he's waking up, or is the old man creepy because he has a young guy in his room?”

Marina looked up from the laptop, the only source of light in the dark room. “Again, I don't know. I didn't write the game. Don't blame me! Just go with it!” Blowing up her bangs, she began to type more.

“What time is it?”

Kenta looked around, trying to find a clock. Of course, being in a room filled with nothing but darkness (and Marina and her laptop), there would be no clock. That and he had no eyes, technically, so he shouldn't be able to see one anyway.

“Let's make it two o'clock,” remarked Marina helpfully.

“Two o'clock then,” Kenta repeated.

“What?” the deep voice replied. “DAY 2 o'clock?”

“Man, if that isn't the most ridiculous translation into English that I've ever seen,” snickered Kamon.

“Yes,” answered Kenta, rolling his eyes.

“How many minutes?” asked the deep voice.

Shrugging, Kenta replied, “Forty-one min–”

“Whoa!” interrupted Deep Voice. “Forty one min.?”

“****,” cursed Kamon again. “Couldn't they at least finish the word? Min.?”

“Stop being so cynical, Kamon,” muttered Marina, sighing.

“Er, yes,” answered Kenta, ignoring his friends.

“DAY 2:41!” repeated Deep Voice. “Yikes! I overslept!”

There was another change in scenery as Marina's hands nimbly darted over the keyboard, typing up the new scene that appeared on the game's screen. Kenta felt an ominous wind rush by as the black walls rushed by and were replaced with white ones. Marina was still stationed at her desk pushed up against the corner. The cheery music of the game echoed throughout the room.

And then, suddenly, for no reason whatsoever, a Professor Oak appeared. Light brown hair streaked with strands of gray hair rested on top of his head in a combed style. A lab coat, crisp and white, covered his broad frame. As usual, the old professor's trademark stern but friendly smile was abroad. He wasn't moving, though. He didn't blink, or shift, or lower his hand that held a pokéball. He just ... stood.

“Hello! Sorry to keep you waiting!” Deep Voice's, er, voice, came out of Professor Oak's body, though his mouth remained unmoving. “Welcome to the world of POKéMON!”

“Oh, so Deep Throat is Professor Oak ...” Marina said thoughtfully, rubbing her chin. “Kenta, why were you in Professor Oak's room? Creep.”

“We agreed on Deep Voice, remember?” Kamon replied. “And yeah, Kenta, why were you in Professor Oak's room?”

“Can we just continue this story?” groaned Kenta.

“Fine. Go, Marina.”

“My name is OAK,” said Oak.

“My name is KENTA,” replied Kenta.

“Dammit, Kenta! You're not suppose to talk yet!” hissed Marina.

“Oh. Sorry.”

“People call me the POKéMON PROF.”

“Why are all NAMES in capital letters?” half-asked, half-shouted Kenta to Marina.

“Fuck! More shortening of words? First min., and now prof.?” piped in the red-head.

The girl shrugged. “I think it had to do with programming. Like they needed to capitalize all the names and items in the old games. And I told you to stop being cynical, Kamon! Anyway ...”

Professor Oak faded away and was replaced with a pokémon, making Marina squeal. It was a small, rubbery pokemon, a smile abroad its face.

“Wooper are so cute!” she gushed. “Er, moving on, though.”

“This world is inhabited by creatures that we call POK–”

“Wooper!” cried the wooper in the middle of the POKéMON PROF.'s speech.

“People and POKéMON live together by supporting each other,” continued the POKéMON PROF. as if he were unaware of the interruption. “Some people play with POKéMON, some battle with them.”

Marina typed away as the wooper faded away from the room – much to her dismay – and was replaced with the stiff form of Professor Oak and his unmoving mouth.

“But we don't know everything about POKéMON yet,” he explained. “There are still many mysteries to solve. That's why I study POKéMON every day.”

The form of Professor Oak appeared, and, amazed, Kenta watched as his body started to take shape in front of him. It first started with his mud-caked shoes, then his shorts that cut off below the knee, rising to his red jacket, then to his face embedded with two golden-brown eyes, followed by unruly black hair that was capped with a backwards baseball cap.

Deep Voice asked, “Now, what did you say your name was?”

Kenta fiddled with his bangs, adjusting them so they weren't in his line of vision. “Does my name have to be in all caps?” he whined.

Marina rolled her eyes. “No.”

“Then my name is Kenta!” he answered cheerfully.

“Kenta, are you ready?” asked the voice.

“Yes I–”

“Ffffff, Kenta! You're not allowed to talk yet! If ever!” shouted Marina, glaring at the hat-wearing boy.

“What? Why?” questioned Kenta, confused.

“All the pokémon games are known for having silent protagonists. The playable ones, anyway,” added Kamon thoughtfully, his body still not configured by Marina's typing. “All you get is the neat YES and NO options.”

“Well, that's stupid.” Kenta scowled and crossed his arms. “We'll see how long that lasts.”

“Your very own POKéMON story is about to unfold!” exclaimed Deep Voice. “You'll face fun times and tough challenges. A world of dreams and adventures with POKéMON awaits! Let's go! I'll be seeing you later!”

“Thanks, Jesus!” Kenta waved to lugia-knows-who before the world around him transformed into a familiar town called New Bark.

Or NEW BARK.

Whatever.


--------------------------------​

I thought dragging out longer than that would be killing it. ;P So we'll pick up with the actual game in the next chapter. I'll probably update this relatively soon(er than usual).

LaTeR dAyZ!
 
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jirachiman876

The King of Kirby
I laughed out loud many times during this. Thank you breezeh for always making me laugh.
Can't find much to really critique because it's a story writing parody. So the lack of description and other things are kind of there on purpose. So it's all good.
Love the comedy and the hilarious references to your own fic. Which is awesome!!! I think you're doing a great job at keeping us laughing.
jirachiman out ;385;
 

Lazorchu!!

Hellooooo~
LOL, Deep throat! ahh, I can not WAIT for the next update on this. BTW, I really like the Banner for LCJ, HLBMA, Lull, and BFBMA!
 

Glover

Pain in Rocket side
This, is weird. I like the narrator powered stories, but it's wierd.

And seriously, who the heck is Kamon and Kenta? Let's get some names here People!
 
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