Wicked Crazy

Okay, so, the pokemon in the gym? They fly. All of them.

That’s fair.

Rattata manages to bring a few of the buggers down, but is too slow to get them all. My suspicion is that she’s too fat. Too fat to jump. All that blubber’s weighing her down. I revive her, let her know what a lardball she is, and resolve not to feed her until the Violet City gym badge is proudly pasted to my chest. Hopefully she’ll stop being such a walrus.

Falkner is all talk, except for the parts of him that are wicked crazy bird techniques and intimidating hair. He keeps on babbling about the magnificence of bird pokemon. Bat balls. Birds’ only gimmick is that the ground is too good for those asses they call feet. Talons. Whatever. You think you’re cool because you can use bird slang, but you’re not. You’re like the opposite of cool. Besides, a quick attack from ratatta is like an atom bomb of pure fuck-tacular, so just shut your damn mouth. Beak. Whatever. Nobody fucking cares.

How does he keep beating me?

Hey Falkner, remember that time I hated you and wished you were dead? Yeah, that was right now.

Bird bitch douchebag.

Flying fuckers.

This is some serious bullshit.

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~ by Grell on June 18, 2009.

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