Well, after a long down time, I'm back. Sorry for my laziness. It's been awhile, so my writing skills may be dull. Critique or flame if necessary.
I do not own Super Smash Brothers.
The clock displayed 8'o clock. The sun was arcing across the sky and not a cloud was around. Mewtwo yawned, rubbed the grit from his eyes, and floated down to the first floor. He brewed himself a steaming cup of coffee, grounded not instant, and headed towards the living room.
At the front door, he picks up his "Wall street Journal" and catches a makeshift Pokeball thrown by a bratty little kid.
He flicks a finger and an explosion engulfs the kid. The child coughs a few plumes of smoke before collapsing. Mewtwo went back inside and called the child's parents before heading into the living room.
Lounging upon the couches were sights that one would not normally see in their morning: Captain Falcon was crispy black and still smoking; Fox was shaven bald; Ness was hatless, and catatonic; Kirby was dressed as a pimp; Link was holding a sack of money; and peach pounded against the confines of a glass box.
But it was Bowser that took the cake. He was wearing pants.
Mewtwo took several large gulps of his brew and floated away.
"Wa-wait a minute!" cried Fox. "Don't you want to know what happened to us?"
Mewtwo stopped. He sighed and faced them again.
"I have vast telepathic abilities," he reminded them. "If I get curious, I shall lift the events directly from your minds."
"You certain you want to do that?" asked Falcon. "Even I don't think we're all right in the head!"
He had point, Mewtwo grudgingly admitted, none of them seemed to be in good mental health. Link seemed the most normal of them, but who clutches a sack of money in the morning? Moreover, curiosity had claimed Mewtwo, so he settled down on a cushion of air and gestured for them to begin.