Disclaimer: I do NOT own Tales of Symphonia. Really, I promise.
Zelos was indeed at the bar.
Sad.
At any rate, he was hitting on all those random drunk girls.
Presea banged the door open, her axe dripping blood. "Zelos, get out of here."
"Aaaaaaw, it's a cute little girl!" one of the drunk women cooed.
"I'm plucking fastered," declared Zelos.
"Idiot." Presea reached up and pulled Zelos out of the bar by his hair. Now she was dragging TWO redheads.
The lucky girl.
Zelos, being "plucking fastered," took a few minutes to realize he was being dragged across the street by a seemingly young girl. "Hey…you ain't…"
"I'm not WHAT?" Presea glared down at him with only one eye, and that eye was glowing red. Very scary.
"You're not…" Zelos sobered quickly. "You're not ummmmm…womanly enough for me. Yeah, that's it."
"It's in the air."
"Huh?"
"I…didn't feel it before. But it's in the air we breathe. It fills our lungs, pervades our body."
"What are you…"
"I will call it…I will call it 'Randomobia."
"Randomobia?"
"It makes you go nuts. And…Zelos…"
"What, Presea?"
"I…I rear I have it."
Zelos eased his hair out of her grasp. "You…"
"It's…it's unmistakeable. I can feel my sanity clouding. It's fading…"
Zelos grasped her hand for a moment. "It's okay, Presea…"
Presea let go of Kratos's hair. Kratos fell to the ground with a loud thud. The pink-haired girl looked up at Zelos, her blue eyes wide. "Do you have…a monkey?"
"What…the…" Zelos backed away. "A monkey?"
"Yes. A monkey. I NEED a monkey. I need to have a monkey for world domination."
Zelos ran screaming in the opposite direction.
"Wait!" yelled Yuan, who had just poofed into view. "Don't you want a sammich?"
"I need a sammich!" declared Presea.
"Okay. How about the Burmese turkey sammich?"
"YES!" Presea laughed maniacally. Yuan joined in, giggling like a schoolgirl (A/N: No offense to schoolgirls. I'm one.)
"Here's your sammich!" Yuan handed her the sammich, er, sandwich and ran off, singing about sammiches.
"Now all I need is a crayon," sighed Presea.
"Hi ma'am. I'm selling monkeys. Would you like one?"
Presea looked at the monkeys. "Fetch me the evilest monkey you have, fool."
"Are you…quite sure you want the evil one?"
"Yes. I need it."
"I only thought you wanted a monkey."
She stared at the monkey seller. "No. Now fetch me the evil monkey."
The monkey seller reached into his bag labeled "Monkeys" and drew out the evilest monkey anyone had ever seen. He snarled and ripped at the monkey seller's hair. "I'll take him," said Presea.
"Alright. His name is…"