Happy late Christmas or however you celebrate the holidays. Technically, I could have had this done before the holiday, but I got bombarded with presents and my sister coming home. Then I got the flu and it was all ... blah. Oh yes, and thank you, one of you, for leaving a super sweet review on SPPf. Lol.

One of my exported documents is -59 days old. Happy -59 birfday, exported chapter that I should update but never did. Anyway, hit it!

Disclaimer: I don't own Pokémon, but Muddy's a brat in this chapter.

Muddy: ;o;

Disclaimer: That's right, foo'!

Muddy: You're a piece of cheese breath, disclaimer. ;o;

Cheese breath? Anyway, this is the Christmas special. Number 2! Because number 1 was lame.

Muddy: What was that one about anyway?

I don't know. (looks back at it) Something I wrote with what's his face. He was a lame-r.

Muddy: In fact, he was a lame-o.

Oh snap. Another letter.

Muddy: Believe it!

This chapter is sort of ... AU because, well, May's in it and technically she's not suppose to be in the story right now. Oh well. Enjoy!


The Santa Pursuit


"What is ... Christmas, Muddy?"

Muddy looked down at the Vulpix who's dark brown eyes were wide and bright. She licked her nose, still gazing up at her favorite Swampert.

"How do you not know what Christmas is?" asked Sirius bewilderedly, looking up from the cookie he was nibbling on between his paws. "Christmas is ... Christmas! You celebrate, you open presents, you eat, you sleep from eating too much, you wake up and open more presents! It's such a lovely day!"

"It's more than that," said the Delcatty who was sitting at the window pane, turning her head from the snow falling outside to the Mightyena lying on the snug, red rug. "It's about spending time with your loved ones and giving!"

"Yeah, right. So if I give you time spent with me, you wouldn't bite my head off it I didn't get you anything?"

"Well-"

"Exactly," Sirius said, going back to nibbling on his cookie. Skittles rolled her eyes and turned her head back toward the window, pressing her nose against the cold glass.

"Did you know that people celebrate Christmas in different ways?" Flare said, preening her feathers while sitting on the bed. "In some areas, it's more traditional to open presents on Christmas Eve rather than Christmas day. And there's so many names for Santa Clause, like Saint Nicholas and Papa Noel. Some areas also think he's a retired pope from a distant country. And some people use their shoes for stockings instead. And if you were really bad, you'd either get beat and kicked or whisked away in a sack to Kanto or something. And did you know that people aren't sure how many elves Santa has? We know it's between six and eight."

"He kicks you?" asked Cy, sneering.

"Well, not anymore, " Flare muttered, looking away shiftily. "That used to scare the children. Now he just 'pretends' to kick you."

"And why is it six to eight? Couldn't they narrow it down after all these years?"

"Really now?" Sirius said, looking up again. He cocked his head toward the side. "And how do we celebrate it here?"

"What? You mean you don't know?" asked Cy, opening one eye from the corner he was meditating in. "You mean, for all this time, you thought being good would get you presents and all you'd get is coal if you were bad?"

Sirius started to look nervous. "You mean ... that's not how it works here?"

"Oh course not," the psychic Pokémon replied.

The Delcatty smirked. "In that case," Skittles said, looking back at the hyena Pokémon. "Listen, you might want to pack a few things. The former bishop of Hoenn will be coming with his six to eight elves tonight. They might put cookies in your shoes, they might stuff you in a sack and take you to Kanto, or they might pretend to kick you. I don't know, but I want you to be prepared."

"Oh, no!" Sirius yelped, hopping on to his feet. "I better get ready!" And with that, he ran out the door, skidding on the slippery wood.

"So mean, Skittles," Flare said, trying to hold back her laughter.

"I try," the Delcatty replied, smiling before pressing a paw against the window, scraping the frost off with her claw.

"That's not what really happens. Right, Muddy?" Cinders asked, her eyes swimming with tears.

"Hell if I know," Muddy replied, shrugging, causing the Vulpix to break down in tears.

"Real fatherly figure you are, aren't you, Muddy?" Flare clucked her tongue and picked up Cinders, rocking her back and forth and soothing her. The Vulpix let out a weird burp and whimper at the same time before settling in Flare's arms, cooing. "Of course that's not what happens, Cinders. At least it doesn't happen to the good Pokémon out there. Sirius, on the other hand, not so much. But you're a good one, let me tell you."

"So ... what happens on Christmas?"

"Well, if you're a good Pokémon, like you are, Santa will drop down and give you presents in your stocking or under your tree."

"How does he get in the house though?"

"Oh, with pixie dust and fairy ... flies!" Muddy answered sarcastically, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall.

"Muddy!" Flare snapped, glaring at the pouting Swampert.

"What, Flare? It's not like Santa has ever come for us anyway."

"He doesn't?" Cinders asked, her eyes filling with tears again.

"Stop being an ignoramus by trying to ruin Christmas for everyone, Scrooge," Cy muttered, closing his eyes again. "And what the heck are fairy flies?"

"I am not! Fine." Muddy looked at Cinders still in Flare's arms and stated really seriously, "All right, Cinders. Santa is very real, and he's very generous and giving, and I'm sure he'll give you whatever your little heart desires."

Cinders smiled and hopped out of Flare's arms, nuzzling against Muddy's leg. "I knew it, Muddy! I'm going to find Thermo right now! We're going to make sure Santa finds our house tonight!" And with that, the little Vulpix darted out of the room, skidding along the floor like the Mightyena before her.

Skittles waited a few seconds after she departed before addressing Muddy angrily. "Why are you such a brat, especially around this time of year?"

"What's so special about Christmas?" he muttered, looking down toward the floor. "Every year it's the same thing. Brendan gets all wired up on eggnog, May tries to force us to eat her awful fruit cake, and Santa never comes. And that's that. There's nothing special about it."

"That's not the point," Flare replied. "It's the point that we're all together, not fighting, not traveling, but actually together, like a family."

"Psh," was all the Swampert said as he slid to the floor, landing on his bottom.

"Oh, don't be such a spoiled sport," the Blaziken replied. "If not for yourself, then for Cinders. This is her first Christmas period, let alone with a family, you know."

"I know."

Skittles rolled her eyes again before jumping off the window pane and sitting next to Muddy, rubbing up against his arm, causing the Swampert to shiver. "Be nice."

"Ugh, stop touching me. It's giving me the creeps."

Skittles pouted and gracefully yet angrily walked out the door huffily, flicking her tail back and forth.

Flare blinked, amused. "I think she-"

"Don't say it, Flare. It'd be creepy if she did, and Sirius would kill me if he found out."

"He's too preoccupied worrying about Santa to notice."

"Blah."

"Cheer up, Scrooge." Flare stood up and patted Muddy on the head before walking out of the room, leaving Muddy and Cy behind. Muddy sat down on the bed and stared at the Kadabra who was too deep in thought to notice.

"What do you think about, Cy? How do you keep meditation that long?"

"Well, that six to eight elves thing is starting to bother me," Cy retorted simply, his nose twitching a little bit. He opened his eyes and hovered onto his feet with a light blast of psychic energy. "I think I'm going to figure it out. It's probably a simple mathematical equation." Cy grabbed a chalk board and chalk from another room with his mind powers and began to write out formulas, scratching his chin a few times.

"If you say so." And with that, Muddy went to lie down on his back, throwing a pillow over his face.


"And whatcha doing there, Cinders?" asked Brendan curiously, dropping to his knees to look at what the Vulpix was doing.

Cinders dropped the marker from her mouth and smiled cutely at her trainer. "It's a sign for Santa! The red lines are my wish list!" She pushed the paper toward Brendan, and although the paper was basically a bunch of multi-colored scribbles, Brendan couldn't help but gush about it.

"She's so smart, my little Cinders!" he cooed, picking up the fire fox and standing up, twirling her about, causing her to giggle. He stopped when May stepped in front of him, apron and hands on her hip. "Why, May! That angry, pissy stare of yours really brings out the color of your eyes."

"Shut your mouth," she replied, trying to hide her smile. She returned back behind the counter of the kitchen and continued to mix things in a bowl. "That Vulpix has made you disgustingly sappy."

"But look at her!" Brendan shoved Cinders in May's face. Cinders pouted cutely, her paws drooping. "She just oozes adorable ... ness."

"Yeah, yeah." May gripped the bowl tighter and she continued to mix. "Gah, this is getting hard."

"For the last time, May, no matter what you do, your food is going to taste goddamn awful."

"It does not! T.B. likes it! Right?"

Thunderbolt looked up from his spot on the couch, stared wide eyed at his trainer and then turned away, snorting.

"Oh c'mon! I know you liked it!" argued May.

"True," muttered the Manectric. "I also have the same like for tetanus shots and rabies."

"Thunderbolt ..."

"You know what I think is weird?" asked Brendan, hopping onto the counter, placing Cinders next to him. "I think it's weird how you named Thunderbolt 'Thunderbolt' seeing as the rules for nicknames state you can only have ten letters for a nickname, and his name has eleven."

"I'm just magical like that."

"Latios granted you those good powers. Why not call it a day and realize that he didn't give you the powers of cooking?"

"I am going to cook a good meal, darn you, and you're going to like it."

"I know. I have to 'like' it every year if I don't want to end up dead the next morning."

"Which is a pretty lose-lose situation if you think about it," muttered T.B. "You'll die either way."

"Ah, trueeee."

May huffed and paid attention toward the Vulpix who was pawing at her picture. "And what do you want for Christmas, Cinders?"

Cinders looked up at May and smiled a little. "I want um ... everyone to be happy-" Brendan awed at this, "-and um ... for no more bad teams that do bad things! I also want Santa Clause to visit me and prove to Muddy that he's real! Mhm." She pawed at her picture again. "But that won't happen."

"Oh?" The girl frowned. "And why's that?"

Cinders pouted a bit. "Because what if Muddy's right and Santa isn't real?"

Brendan and May looked at each other as Cinders looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully, her picture in her mouth. She jumped off the counter and landed gracefully on all fours before heading toward another room.

"And why doesn't Muddy believe in Santa?" May asked Brendan curiously when the Vulpix was out of earshot.

"Oh, it's because of that one Christmas last year when he pulled my beard on accident when I was playing Santa. It's not my fault though. You would have lost balance too if someone heavier and taller than you sat on your knee."

"Oh, I remember that. Nurse Joy said that was the first hysteria attack due to fake Santa she had ever seen for a Pokémon."

"Yep. The ER sure is festive during Christmas."

"Poor Cinders. What are we going to do if Santa doesn't deliver?"

"I don't know."

Muddy couldn't stand to listen to anymore and trudged down the hallway again, thinking to himself. He couldn't ruin Christmas for Cinders. But how could he make it better?


"... So according to my calculations based on distance, in meters, from here to the North Pole, the years the legend of Santa has been told, the number of regions where Christmas is the major holiday of this season, and the net weight of a sleigh, Santa has ... 7.32 elves," Cy said triumphantly, putting the chalk down in the tray and slapping his hands together, conjuring up a white dust cloud.

Sirius coughed and scratched the back of his head with his hind foot before staring at the board. "If you say so, Cy," he muttered as Cy happily levitated out of the room. Sirius closed his eyes and was about to fall asleep when the door busted open, awakening him with a yelp. He landed on all fours and noticed Muddy standing at the door frame, panting, a glint of happiness and craziness in his eyes.

"We're going to be Santa!" Muddy exclaimed excitedly.

He paused before answering. "Excuse me?" Sirius asked, puzzled. "Did you say we're?"

"Well no, not we're! I am! And you're going to be my elf!"

"Ho ho NO!" The Mightyena yelped, jumping up a little bit. "I can't be an elf! According to Cy, there's-" he looked at the board, squinting his eyes, "-7.32 elves! I can't play 7.32 elves!"

"You'll play one elf!" Muddy replied happily. "Cinders can't count! We'll just tell her you're 7.32 elves!"

"I refuse to wear that stupid hat with those stupid ears!"

"Fine. You already have stupid ears. All you need is a stupid hat!"

"Muddy ..."

"Oh c'mon, Sirius." Muddy frowned, looking out at the snow that twisted and turned with the wind. "This means a lot to her. Don't you want to be nice for a change?"

"Um ... No?"

"Fine. I hope you enjoy getting pretend kicked by Santa when you fall asleep tonight."

"Okay, okay," Sirius grumbled, hopping onto the bed to get a better look at Muddy's face. "Why the sudden change of heart?"

"Just because I don't think Santa is real doesn't mean Cinders should, right?"

"Sure. But how are we going to get costumes for it? You're fat and I, well, have four legs."

"I prefer the term horizontally challenged, thank you. Santa is fat, so I'm sure they have prepared costumes at the store. That's where the sissy trainers buy clothes to dress up their Pokémon for contests. Maybe they have Santa suits there!"

"We don't have money."

"We'll ... steal it?"

"You don't exactly look like Santa. You don't have a beard."

"We'll grow one!"

"Your face is blue."

"We'll tell her that ... I fell in paint or something. We can make this work! No problem!"

"Ugh, fine. Guess there's no convincing you otherwise. But how are we going to 'steal' the costumes then?"

Muddy rubbed his paws together. "Oh, I have a plan. But you're going to have to play along."

"As always." Sirius rolled his eyes as he followed Muddy outside the room.


"Last day to shop EVER," muttered Sirius, reading a sign in a store window. "Does that swap meet know something that we don't?"

"Okay, here's what we'll do," the Swampert said in the back of an alleyway. He was bent over so his face was close to a vent. "See this vent here? It leads to the costume store. You're going to crawl into this vent and wait for me to distract the people inside so you can bust in and steal a Santa suit and maybe a nice hat for you."

"Oh, exciting," Sirius muttered, blowing a snowflake off his nose. He shivered and more snow flew out from his furry, black coat. "Let's just get this over with. I'm cold." With that, Muddy took off the vent cover, and Sirius started to crawl inside only to get his rear stuck in the opening. "I'm stuck!" he yelped, his voice muffled.

"Dammit, Sirius! Use the boost to get through!"

"Are you quoting Star Fox? I refuse to use the listen to that donkey."

"He's a rabbit, ahem."

"Whatever. Sorry that Peppy sounds like a donkey name."

Muddy slammed into Sirius, pushing the poor hyena's entire body inside the vent. "There you go. Now you crawl toward the end and wait until the people are looking at me." He smiled, tapping the vent happily.

"Yeah, yeah."

Muddy stood back up and walked toward the front of the store, trying to wipe away the footsteps he left in the store. Since it was Christmas Eve, a lot of fathers were renting Santa suits to surprise their kids, most of them being on the verge of divorce and this being the last, desperate attempt to win back their kids. The Swampert peered around the corner and slipped back when a man walked out, a little kid pulling down at his jacket. Like a spy - or what Muddy assumed to be spy-like - he rolled on the floor behind a shelf and looked over it, orange eyes darting about. He looked toward the vent where he saw Sirius's red, eerie eyes staring at him, his nose pressed against the cold gates of the vent. Looking around, he noticed a toy gun lying next to him.

"Hmm, perhaps I can use this to distract them," he muttered, examining the gun.

Holding it delicately, Muddy tried to pull the trigger with his huge paws but lost his grip, causing the gun to fly out of his hands and break the window. Wide-eyed, Muddy ducked as the store owner and the customers ran outside to see what happened.

"Uh, that works too. I guess."

As soon as the store was empty, Sirius busted through the vent's gate and landed on his side, skidding into boxes. Coughing, he looked around hastily but noticed that there no Santa suits left on the rack labeled "Santa suits sold here!" Thinking quickly, Sirius noticed the mannequin sporting a Santa costume and grabbed it by the leg, half running, half dragging it out of the store.

"Why did you grab the entire mannequin?" Muddy asked, following the Mightyena as soon he exited the store, the rest of the store's recipients going back in.

Sure enough, the rest of Santa's body was connected to the leg that Sirius held tightly in his mouth.

"I ... I don't know."

"It looks like you went on a rampage and killed a mall Santa," the Swampert muttered, bending down to examine the mannequin. "What, Sirius? Didn't get his picture with him?"

"Shut up."

"Mommy, that Mightyena murdered Santa Clause!" a little girl screamed, pointing at the hyena Pokémon. "Do something, mommy!"

"Bad dog!" the mom said, thwacking her purse in her hand, slowing approaching the Mightyena, her eyes flaming.

"I think running is a good idea now," the Mightyena said, backing up as Muddy picked up the mannequin.

"Good idea," he replied, backing up as well before turning around and sprinting, the mother hot on their heels.


"What are Santa beards made out of?" asked Sirius as the two sat in the garden of Brendan's house, the Santa costume neatly piled against some dead shrubbery. He rubbed the back of his head with a paw where the lady whacked him with her brick-like purse.

"Well ... white stuff?" Muddy replied, a bandage around his head.

"Oh good job, Muddy! Not vague or unspecific at all!"

"I know! Hmm." Muddy looked up and around himself before looking up at the sky. "Well, clouds are white. Maybe we could make clouds and put them on my face!"

"Good idea! But how do we make them?"


Sirius sighed, incapable of believing he was friends with such a moron. "I don't think this is a good idea, Muddy."

"Sure it is!" Muddy put a face mask over his head where only his beady orange eyes showed through the protective glass. He flipped on a switch on the machine he was holding, and the machine sputtered and rumbled before successfully turning on. "Clouds are kind of wet, right?"

"Right ..."

"So if we melt this piece of ice, you can catch the steam that floats up with that paper baggy, and we'll play around with it until it forms into a beard! So it's sort of like a cloud but in a smarter way. Are you ready?"

"Easy for you to say! You're the one with the mask!"

"Sissy!"

"Ugh! Fine!" Sirius sighed and grabbed the paper bag with mouth. "Weady," he said, his voice muffled with the bag.

"All right then." Muddy pointed the flamethrower at a block of ice. Smirking from behind the mask, he pushed the button, and orange flames licked the ice. After a few seconds, steam began to rise, and Sirius quickly stood on his hind legs, putting the paper bag over it. A rogue flame, however, danced upward and hit the paper bag, causing it to go up in flames. Sirius, panicking, threw the bag behind him into the shrubbery.

"Ow!" Sirius yelped, burying his chin in the snow. "That was hot!"

"You let go of the steam," Muddy complained, turning off the flamethrower and lifting up the mask, oblivious to the now growing fire behind him. He pointed a finger at the Mightyena. "You ruined Christmas!"

"I ruined Christmas?" Sirius shouted, pulling his head from the snow and glaring at Muddy, Muddy glaring right back. "You're the one that acted all depressed and stupid and caused Cinders to almost not believe in Santa Clause!"

"I'm not the one that killed mall Santa! You ... you Santa murderer!"

"This again? It was a doll!"

"What if Santa is a doll, huh? I hope you get your ass pretend kicked tonight by him!"

"For the love of - do you smell that?" Sirius sniffed the air, licking his lips. "It sort of smells good."

"Hmm ... Did May get better at cooking?" Muddy looked behind him and noticed the wall of flames licking the outer portion of the house. "Oh, the house is on fire." He shrugged and looked back at Sirius. "Now where was I?"

Sirius, wide eyed, looked back and forth at the fire and Muddy. "Oh, my god! Do something!" he finally managed to gasp out.

"Uh." Muddy looked down at his flamethrower and shot more flames at the house. "Kill it with fire!"

"No! Put it out with water!"

"That's right!" Muddy cried out ecstatically, jumping up and down, pointing to himself. "That's right! I'm a water Pokémon!" He immediately dropped the flamethrower, took in a huge breath of air and shot a powerful blast of water from his mouth, extinguishing the flames. Black smoke went up hazily in weird spirals, and the entire front wall of the house was scorched.

"Hmm ... Do you think Brendan will notice?" Muddy asked, scratching his head. "I mean the new paint job or lack thereof really?"

"We'll ... just leave through the back door from now on," Sirius muttered. A bag fell on top of his head. Shaking it off, Sirius read the title on the bag. "Hmm ... Cotton balls?"

"Yeah, Cinnamon Buns?"

"Wha - I wasn't addressing you! I was reading the bag."

"Gotcha, Cinnamon Buns."

"Psh, I wish." Sirius picked up the bag with his teeth. "Maywe we cab make duh beard wid this."

"Genius! All we need is something sticky. Turn around, Cinnamon Buns!"

Sirius spat out the bag and backed away from Muddy, eyes wide again. "How about we use glue instead?"

"That works too!"


"So, how do I look, Cinnamon Buns?"

"Stop calling me that!" Sirius snapped. He walked slowly around Muddy in a circle. Muddy had already dressed, the red, velvet cloth of the sleeves drooping off his arms. A Santa hat sat askew on his head, the white puff of cotton swinging into his eyes. The robe was somewhat short, cutting off at his stomach, and the pants were too baggy, hanging over Muddy's feet like a five year-old in footsie pajamas. Cord rope was tied around his waist to keep his pants up, and his make-shift beard was still soggy with glue, sloppily made and smelling like wet dog wrapped in dead fish wrapping paper.

"You're like Santa from the hood," Sirius muttered, tugging down at Muddy's Santa robe. He let go and it snapped back up, alarming the Swampert. "Which is cool, I guess."

"Word," Muddy replied, crossing his arms and throwing up a sign.

Flare entered the room, blinked twice and stood at the door frame. "So ... uh. What's this?"

"A door frame," Muddy replied. "It's a magical device that allows you to pass through walls."

"Not that!" Flare rolled her eyes and leaned against the frame. She pointed at Muddy in his suit. "This."

"A claw, my dear Flare. You use it to pick things up and give me the finger, just like you are right now."

"Oh, forget it."

Sirius smirked, holding back laughter. "Muddy is going to play Santa for Cinders!"

"Is he now?" Flare smiled and sat on the bed, resting her chin on a claw. "That's nice of him. I'm quite flabbergasted."

"I don't know what that mean, but I be it. Aight?" Muddy replied, fixing the hat on his head. He looked at the clock behind him. It read 10:03. "Okay, I think I should bust out there now. May should be super angry at her cooking and not paying attention, and Brendan is probably all loopy off of the eggnog and singing karaoke, right?"

"Maybe they're makey-wakey outy-wout," Sirius replied, snickering.

"Are you acting the fool again, Sirius? I do not have time for that." Muddy nervously tugged at his hat again and walked toward the doorway. He looked back at Flare and Sirius. "Think I can do this?"

Flare rolled her eyes. "Psh. Cinders believes one plus one equals window."

"It does, dammit!" Muddy snapped. He smiled and pointed to himself confidently. "I taught her that."

"Oh, Latios, she's doomed. But I've got to watch this." With that, Flare stood up and followed Muddy out the door, Sirius on her heels.

Muddy entered the living room, where May, like every Christmas Eve, was flapping her apron at the oven because something was burning in it and Brendan was laughing and dancing with himself as he sang "Last Christmas" along with the television. Cinders was on the couch, half awake, half sleeping with T.B. next to her, watching her carefully just in case Brendan accidentally sits on her. Cherry, Silver, and Tai were perched on the couch, watching Brendan amusedly.

"So, if I hit you with tackle or something, you wouldn't feel it?" Cherry asked, turning her attention toward the Shedinja.

"Nope," Silver said confidently, puffing out his chest. "That's why this form is so cool."

Tai rolled his eyes. "But look at this, Cherry." Tai extended his wing out and slap Silver on the back, causing Silver's eyes to go back and fall forward.

"Shovel, shovel, shovel!" Muddy said loudly, laughing heartedly afterward.

"It's 'ho, ho, ho,' pal," Sirius whispered from behind him.

"It is?" Muddy whispered back. "Darn. I knew I'd confuse my gardening tools up."

"It's Santa!" Cinders cheered, hopping onto her feet and eying "Santa" with a mixture of happiness and confusion. "What are you doing here, Santa?"

Muddy rubbed his belly. "Well, I'm here to visit you, Cinders! You've been a good Pokémon this year, haven't you?"

"I have, Santa, I have." Cinders nodded, hopping back and forth between her four feet. "Do you think Muddy will believe in you now?"

Muddy hesitated before answering. "Why yes, Cinders. I'm sure he'll believe now."

"Do I get my presents now, Santa?"

Flare interrupted before Muddy could say anything. "You know, Cinders, you're going to have to go to bed and wait like all the other good little Pokémon. Then you can open your gifts tomorrow."

Cinders hopped onto the floor and nuzzled Muddy's leg. "I'll go to bed right away!" And with that, the Vulpix scurried into the other room.

Muddy sighed and pulled off his beard, flopping onto the couch, watching Brendan dance with a chair. "So think I convinced her that Santa is real?"

"I think so, Muddy," Flare replied, smiling, sitting next to him and patting him on the shoulder. "I think so. And you know what? I think you believe in Santa still too."

"Maybe. But I won't get anything."

Sirius sat down on the floor. "But Muddy. Isn't the spirit and the togetherness of family a gift in itself?"

Muddy blinked twice before kicking the Mightyena in the head. "Don't you dare say anything that lame again, Cinnamon Buns."


Muddy: What a lame ending.

Be quiet! Anyways, I'm working on the next chapter, so it should be out relatively soon. So look out!

LaTeR dAyZ!

Last Revision: 1/22/09