I left my home for the last time today. My mother had not been in plain sight the entire time I had been there. It was a crying shame. I really needed some laundry done. So, before leaving Celadon, I biked over to the Pokemon Center to heal my Pokemon. I thought I would impress some of the ladies there with my new Charizard, but apparently a half dead Charizard in a ball doesn’t attract as many ladies as you would think (I should have kept it out of the ball, it starts to stink in there after a while…)
As I went down the Cycling Road, I noticed many things, Farfetch’d played in the grass (weirdest lookin’ Pokemon I’ve EVER seen, and I’ve seen THREE DITTOS), trainers trained vigorously for Triathlons that never seemed to be going on, and the most disgusting brand of trainer tried to destroy me… The Biker.
Now, let’s not get this confused, the Biker is the worst kind of trainer. Sadly, I must even put the Cool Trainer above this, because the Biker doesn’t shower. EVER! That’s the only requirement to be one. Well, that and you must have a bike, but this notion isn’t nearly as important as the lack of personal hygiene.
So there I was, stopped by the behemoth of West Celadon… Biker Chuck. Now, Biker Chuck is not to be confused with the baddest Biker around, Biker Lance Armstrong, but he is still high up in the community. Not as high up as Lance though. The man did more with one Voltorb than the rest of the male populous can do with three! Realizing, Biker Chuck wouldn’t let me pass, there was only one way out…. I needed to battle his wretched bald head into submission!
As Biker Chuck let out his Weezing I was already three steps ahead. Charizard, was, Lugia. The battle was over before it began. Charizard burnt Weezing to death (poison really is flammable, ain’t it?) and destroyed the rubber on Biker Chuck’s tires. Leaving him sitting on rims, I sped off down the hill, letting my hat feel the breeze of the open road.
Then, I smashed through the fence on the Cycling Road, and the rest of me felt the water hit my body. Now, I don’t know if anyone reading this has ever smashed through a fence before, but I would not advise it unless you are a moron (in which case, more power to you, jackass) or a daredevil of some sort (even the best of Chanseys in the world go through a ring of fire every week.)
So, sopping, tired, and slightly broken, I arrived in Fuchsia City. My plans now include going to the Safari, and seeing if the Pokemon Center will heal my ribs and pelvis.
Cyan Gitors
PS: There’s this thing sticking out of me… Is it a hernia?
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