Chapter Gourd: Ford Mustang
"Crikey!" announced Silver as he peered over a bush. He was majestically into the new event. "See that now?"
There it was in the middle of the plains, grazing with the mane of electro-greatness. It was a Zebstrika.
"Hark!" said Mighty as he folded his abs to allow for more accurate bow shooting. "Shall we nab it?"
"Do not mar its perfection with thine arrow, scoundrel," said Silver.
Mighty liked being called a "scoundrel". It made him so low.
"That beast shall give us an audience with the great Michael Wazowski, eh?" said Vector with the eyebrow of magic intentions.
"Aye, let me get it!" said Silver silverly and he tiptoed up to the Zebstrika and shoved a Pokeball into its grazing maw. The swallowed Pokeball caused triumph in everyone's lives. The Zebstrika entered the Pokeball from within.
"Societal!" cried Omega as he examined the Zebra-getting.
"Good work, lads!" said Mighty in his congratulatory ab method.
"I concur," said Vector.
"Let's get goin'," said the hunky wise leader. They made it into their bobsled and then zoomed like a pencil on bread. It was such a wonder of amazement.
Just then, the eyes of evil spied with keen evil into the hearts of the righteous.
"I can see their souls," said one eavesdropper.
"Can you see it?" asked his partner.
"Yes, that's Silver, the one. We will steal his rings."
Just then, Silver's bobsled hit a bump in the road.
"Oh criminy jacket…" said Silver as he fell onto his nose. It was horrible.
"Are you well?" yelled Mighty like a warlock of pecs.
"Yes, I fare okey-doke," said Silver as he thought about the accursed ground that punched his nosey. "Must I hear?"
"Silver, what does it that you got into your ears just of now?" asked his worried crocodile friend.
"I hear… OUR DOOM!" said Silver and he looked up and saw ninjas approach. They wielded the knives and the guns.
"This is a forgoing…" seethed Omega. "What a bad day…"
"We are your killers!" roared the ninjas.
"Dang!" cried Silver and his abs got up to eleven for the fifth time this week.
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