In attempts to avoid lawsuits I'm
going to take a look at what he's written so far and pretend I never saw this.
(Ash sends out Bulbasaur which whips TR's butts, they
verbally banter awhile, it looks like TR might win, Ash sends out Pidgeotto, TR
gets blown away, yadda, yadda, yadda…)
Boy, I think James pretty much
summarized it for all of us.
Three hours and 22 computer crashes later…
"How about Ash shees a big
Mewtwo witsh butterfwy wings and he fwies it to…Indigo Plateau and evrybuddy's
dere and dey cheer and do da Hokey Pokey witsh a giant Teletubbie in spandex
named Richard Shimmons shelling wainbow colored wigs to polka-dotted Chanseys
witsh chainsaws? No, dat's shilly! Da Mewtwo wouldn't be able to fwy witsh
butterfwy wings…he'd haft ta have pony wings!"
Make that three hours, 22 computer crashes, and several bottles of vodka later.
"Hey,
Steve! What are you doin'?"
"NUSHIN!! I ain't done nushin! It was da ponies, I tell you, da
ponies! Deys don't want you to
know! Dey don't want no onsh to know!"
"Dammit, Steve! I
told you to stop trying to write fanfics!
Give me that bottle!"
"Ish my bottle! Leggo, leggo! Damn you, leggo! You're
witsh dem, aren't you?! Da ponies sent
you!!"
"You've had enough! Now give Uncle Flin the bottle, Steve. Let me have the bottle…"
"No, no, never enough! Gotta' have more! Gotta' shtop da ponies!
Evyting's so nice 'n shwirly!
Ooohh…"
"That's it, Steve, you just lay
down and take a nice little nap. No
one's going to take your bottle away.
You just go to sleep now…"
"The room's tipping! La-la-la…
All the pwetty cowers…! You watch
out, ponies! I ge' you nexsht shtime…da
ponies…dere here…damn ponies…"
Sunday morning—Steve's back at his laptop again. With
one helluva headache.
"Ow,
ow, OW!! Why do these keys have to be
so damn loud?!"
"Steve, you at that damn laptop
again?"
"Go to hell, Flin! It's none of your business!"
"Having trouble coming up with a
story again? I could help if you want."
"I don't need your help! … But,
if you had any…ideas, maybe you could let me know and I could…consider them or
something. Not that I need any ideas,
or anything…"
"No of course not, Steve. Let's see what you've got."
Pikachu's Happy Day
By Steve
Pikachu
woke up. It was a bright sunny day with
big fluffy clouds. This made Pikachu
smile.
"Pika-chu!" he said, which
probably means "What a nice day!" but I wouldn't know because I don't speak
Pikachu. Stretching his little arms, he
turned and gave his best friend in the whole wide world a tug on the sleeve to
wake him up.
"Chu! Pika, pika!" he said, which probably meant, "Ash! Get up!" but again I wouldn't know. Ash simply turned over in his sleep and
groaned a little. Pikachu sighed.
"Chu…" he muttered, shaking his
head sadly.
Flin nods intelligently at the screen.
Then, straightening up, he turns to his friend:
"This
is the crappiest, sappiest story I've ever read in my entire life, WHAT WERE
YOU THINKING?!!!"
"I'm working on it…"
"Here, give me that laptop!"
"Hey! Flin, don't do anything drastic!"
"Don't worry, I'm just going to
'edit' it a little."
…"Chu…"
he muttered, shaking his head sadly.
All of a
sudden, a huge nuclear bomb fell from the sky, wiping out Pikachu and his
friends and saving the entire world from his nauseatingly cute antics.
And the
rest of the world lived happily ever after.
"Edit?! You just blew them up!"
"I didn't change anything. I just added."
"AAARGH!!!" Steve
clicks on 'New' and begins typing again.
"You
want me to help you with this one, too?"
"No!!"
Pause.
"I
won't blow anything up."
"No nuclear warheads?"
"I promise."
…Ash,
Brock, and Misty were walking along when from the trees:
"Prepare for trouble!"
"And make it double!"
Ash: Agh! It's Team Rocket!
Brock: Quick, tackle them before
they can do their motto!
"Flin! Brock wouldn't say that!"
"Well I would in that
situation. Who's story is it anyway:
his or mine?"
"Actually, it's neither of
yours. It's mine and I say—"
"Would you just shut up and let
me finish? I'm trying to make this
funny, not realistic."
…Before
you could say "To protect the world from devastation," Ash-tachi had tackled
the trio of villains to the ground.
James: Eee! My pants!
You got grass stains on them, you scrawny little—
Misty: Oh, boo-hoo! It's your
own fault for wearing a white uniform!
Jesse: Get OFF of me, you pervert! (smack)
Brock: Aww, man!
Ash: (holding his face)
Yaaaagh!! My face!!
Meowth: You'll think twice about tacklin' Meowth,
brat!
A few
minutes later…
Misty: What were you three doing following us this time?
James: It's none of your
business what we do in our free time!
Misty: (grabbing him by the
collar) Do I need to give you a reason,
then?!!
James: (gulp) No.
Jesse: Wimp!
James: (nervous) Well, you see,
it's like this…
