Author's note: I've decided, in case you can't tell, to give this a general plot, however weird it may be. Well, not really. It's more going to have "arc" like things. The first arc is the "chibifier 5000" arc. The next arc… well, we'll see, shall we? (That just means I haven't written it yet… U.U Akio-chan asked me to update this, so here the update is! A week or three after she asked, but whatever… - sweat drop - )

Ryou confined me back to my room, Jim Bob. I'm still not sure how a sixteen-year-old pale British kid with no upper body strength can confine me to my room, but somehow me manages to. By the way, I'm on a bus.

The Chibifier 5000 is made by some company called Les Fieres. That sounds French. I hate the French. Actually, no, that guy who antagonized me in that bathroom in Belgium was Flemmish. Apparently he didn't appreciate me kicking the stall doors because it was his job to clean them. Who cares? He should've gotten a better job!(1)

Anyhoo, so I'm going to Les Fieres headquarters. The only problem is that it happens to me in these stupid part of Domino City that is called… wait for this Jim Bob… Oh, wait, you're a notebook.

… No, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings! I'm sorry! I'll try to be more considerate to you, if you don't tell anyone.

…So, the section of Domino City that I am traveling to is called 'Francetown.' While 'Chinatown' sounds like a perfectly normal place to have in a city, 'Francetown' sounds like a name some unimaginative kid named his town on Animal Crossing. And that game stunk after I dunked the cartridge into a glass of sour milk. Actually, the game stunk anyway. It smelled faintly of rotten cheese. Nintendo needs to sort that out. I'm sure we could've gotten a new cartridge with the warranty.

So, Jim Bob, I am on my way to Les Fieres headquarters. It's starting to rain outside, and… uh-oh. That's bad. o.o Whenever it starts to rain and I'm grounded, Ryou will invite me downstairs to watch TV with him, because he's just that retarded. …Or was the word I was looking for nice? Meh, whatever. He'll figure out that I'm gone if he goes upstairs. Good thing I left a decoy of sorts.

Anyway, I guess this would be the ideal time to monologue aloud on why the bus is the crappiest sort of transportation. The woman sitting next to me is breastfeeding her baby, which is gross, and the worst part is that when I asked her if she would stand up so that I could stretch my legs across her seat, she said no! That's really rather inconsiderate. …And now she's glaring at me, because like I said, I'm monologuing out loud.

"Monologuing isn't a word." That's what she just said. "Well guess what, woman? You happen to be found in errorI looked it up in the dictionary. It can also be spelled m-o-n-o-l-o-g-g-i-n-g. I guess that's what you get for having kids and giving up on your education. In high school, you were probably a…"

She punched me! Geez. I think I'll just move to another section of the bus… Shoot! I just missed my stop! I should really slap my forehead, Jim Bob. How could I have missed the stop where the odor of many types of cheese wafted through the air and people kept cursing at people in a language that made their vituperation sound romantic? Not to mention the electronic voice on the bus said, "Now arriving at Francetown. Please exit. On arrive maintenant a Francetown. Partez s'il vous plait. Furansutoun o kimashita. Deguchi ni ikimashou. Wir sind hier, dumm. Essen Sie meine Kurzhose. Esto no es un taladro. Dispararemos a todos ladrones de tumbas en este autobús." It also went on in several other, badly-translated announcements, like Russian and Norwegian and pig Latin. Since I need to get to Francetown, I wait until we get to the next stop, then hop off to find myself surrounding by pasty-white figures wearing black-and-white striped shirts.

Goodness Jim Bob! I've just hopped off in Vampires-in-Jail town! …Although now that I think about it, this looks a little more like Mimetown. So I must be there.

…Domino City's just a little too big, if we have a Mimetown. Although it is very interesting here. There's this one guy who's standing in a hunched over position, his hands resting on his stomach, and he's making a motion as if he's about to vomit drunkenly all over the sidewalk.

"That guy hasn't moved in ages!" remarks one guy.

"You're not supposed to talk, stupid!" another one retorts. "What kind of mime are you?"

The guy who hasn't moved in ages isn't even blinking. His eyes are large and wet-looking, like those of a fish. He has pale, ashen-colored lips, and multiple face piercings that his mother must be ashamed off. On his forehead there is glued a piece of paper that says, "Hi. My name is Strings." That's just retarded.

However, there is a gaggle of girls surrounding him, staring at him appreciatively.

"There's one guy who won't say something stupid," this one blonde girl says. She turns and grabs the arm of some shorter kid that looks similar to her and is shuffling through a deck of cards. "C'mon, Colton, let's go."

"But you said I could buy Magic cards!" the blonde kid argues.

"I'm not going to mime my way through telling the person at the register that I want some cards. Let's just go."

The kid looks disappointed. His sister pulls him my way. And… O.O

. She's so… cool!

JIM BOB! Takes notes. I think I'm in love.

…Oh, that's right—I'm the one who takes notes. In you. Hm… There's a sexual innuendo in there somewhere, but I don't feel like looking for it. I know it's there, though.

But ANYWAY! Yes, I must be in love. I haven't had this much affection for something since new episodes of Sheep in the Big City came on. I should abandon my plans to chibify Ryou and buy her a cookie! …No, that's just crazy; I'll just put them off for a bit while I follow her in inconspicuous fashion.

…No, Jim Bob, those people aren't staring at me. I'm a tomb thief! I'm too good to be caught. They just happen to be staring through me at a completely boring brick wall. That's all. Maybe under the cow cult's influence. You know—TESMU OCAOT TAPID. …Oh, wait. My fly is down. They ARE staring at me. Dang.

(Zip.) Yes, Jim Bob, I just wrote down the sound of my zipping up my pants. That's called something like a narrated onomatopoeia. I can't believe I spelled that right. I can't believe I know I spelled that right. But, I ain't-gotta-pee-a, so I think I'll follow that girl instead.

…I think I lost her.

Dang.

Hey, I can see my hikari from here! Hi hikari!

…Wait, I don't really call him hikari… People look at me weird when I do that.

"Oi! Stupid -----!"

Ah, there. Now he knows I'm here. …No, he didn't hear me. Dang.

3rd person view

"Bakura?" Ryou turned around, frazzled. Hadn't he told the delirious delinquent to stay in his room? Still, Bakura was about two feet away from him, scrabbling into his notebook with a pen, and muttering, "I can't believe he didn't hear me…"

"Bakura?" Ryou reached out and touched his darker half on the shoulder. "Is that you?"

"If it isn't, this scene'll be pretty awkward," said a fat man in green pants and a white shirt who was passing by. "He he he he he."

Ryou blinked. "Bakura, look at me!" He shook Bakura's shoulders. When that didn't work, he grabbed his chin and forced the spirit to look at him. …Or tried to.

"Look at me," he commanded, but Bakura's eyes were averted to his notebook. "What are you writing in that thing? Why aren't you in your room? Why do you smell like picked plums and how do I know what those smell like?"

Bakura's P.O.V.

Ryou is still ignoring me, Jim Bob! This stinks! …Why do I smell like pickled plums?

"BAKURA!" I look up.

"Hi," I say. Looks like he's finally paying attention to me. …Suddenly I get a cold feeling that permeates throughout my body, like I'm about to get chewed out. Maybe it's the smell of pickled plums.

"Bakura, why aren't you in your room?"

…Oh, yeaaaah. My room.

"The house is being robbed," I tell him. "I came to warn you."

Ryou crosses his arms. "And a fine job you did at it," he says. I thank him. He sighs. "Why didn't you just scare the burglar out of his wits? I know you're lying…"

"He had a tattoo," I blurted lamely—I mean, carefully planned out.

"…Um… right." Ryou scratched an itch on the tip of his nose.

Bakura's P.O.V.

I think he's buying it, Jim Bob.

"Well," my wussy half says. "…You're saying that out loud you know." The wimp doesn't suspect a thing. "…Go home and tell that guy with the tattoo to hand your butt to you," he says, miffed, and then walks away. Well, that went well. And, look, Jim Bob: drama! See: The sun is setting as he walks into the horizon… wait, the sun is setting!

o.o This is terrible, Jim Bob. And I'll tell you wh

(1) This is based off of a real-life experience I had in Belgium… (sweat drops) I kicked the bathroom stall door because my sister was in there and we were fighting. I was in 3rd grade.