Curly belongs to Craig Bartlett and Nickelodeon. Bokkun belongs to SEGA and 4Kids.

Bokkun and Curly: Keep In Touch

Monday, January 29th, 8:35 a.m.: Rhonda Wellington Lloyd comes up the corner of the street that leads to P.S. 118 Elementary School.

Apparel: Red shirt, black pants, and red shoes (as usual)...Oh wait, was that a new shade of lipstick she had on her lovely, kissable lips?

'My, my, my—isn't my little bijou feeling daring today?' Curly, upon his outlook from the roof of a building that stood on the same street upon which Rhonda was strolling, made dead sure to copy down this new, enticing development in his tiny, personal, (surprise, surprise) red notebook.

"Hey!" a squeaky voice suddenly called out, interrupting the fanatic in his passionate scribbling.

"Hmm, who said that?" Yet Curly saw no one near him—not next to him, not behind him either. He wasn't about to look in front of himself—that'd be silly, even for him. Still, though...where had that voice come from? 'Could it be possible I have a new rival?'

"Up here, genius!" There went the voice again, this time with a strong dash of childish snide thrown in. But hang on...Curly had looked in every plausible direction for the voice...so what about up? Thus up is where Curly focused his line of sight next and...Well, while the strange, pint-sized, horned, bluish-ebony creature with the red jetpack, red shoes, white gloves, silver belt, and tiny white pupils didn't prove to be the strangest spectacle the bifocal-wearing stalker had ever seen, it—or better yet, he—certainly wasn't the most normal or expected being the young boy had ever encountered either.

"Hey! You were that crazy guy with the jetpack!" the hovering being exclaimed, pointing a finger at Curly. "You're also the guy that shanghaied all those animals from the zoo, aren't ya?"

Curly Gammelthorpe couldn't help but grin smugly at this lad's accurate retelling of his seemingly impossible—or better yet improbable— feats. "I prefer the term 'liberated.' Glad to see my reputation precedes me!" Yes, indeed, the bowl-haired preteen blew a fist and rubbed it on the front of his shirt in clear pride. However, as Curly stared longer at the hovering imp, he couldn't help humming to himself and adopting a pensive expression as he rubbed his chin.

"What are you looking at?" the tiny being suddenly demanded, balling his fists and frowning defensively, evidently unnerved by this human's critical analysis of him.

Suddenly snapping his "thinking" fingers, Curly bore a smile in remembrance. "You're that egg guy's messenger, aren't you—Bokkun, right?"

Bokkun relaxed his fists and lightly gasped. "Yeah, I am! How'd you know that?"

"Call it my keen sense of intuition!" Of course, there also stood the fact Curly had seen the little messenger robot fly around the city some times before. He sure wasn't about to lose his "cool" appearance for the sake of sticking to the facts, though; that was for sure.

Then once again, the bowl-haired boy rubbed his chin. "Hmm, you know, I could find a use for a little guy like you! I've seen your handiwork before."

At these words, Bokkun's eyes lit up magnificently. "Really...?"

Instead of offering an immediate reply, Curly produced a stark paper square from one of his pants' pockets and stretched out the hand holding said square in Bokkun's direction. "Here's my card! Feel free to call me when business with Eggman goes rotten."

Bokkun accepted the card and spent a few seconds examining it in both curiosity and wonder before he looked back up at the older boy and smiled in gratitude. "Gee, thanks! See ya later, Curly!"

The bifocal-wearing fourth-grader merely waved back as the tiny robot flew away, the sounds of his red jetpack fading into the distance alongside with Bokkun himself.

Only when the smaller child finally vanished did Curly shake his own head in bemusement. "Just another day in the life of Curly Gammelthorpe..."

Curly...and Bokkun...teaming up...?—Yeah, I know. I've just screwed the whole world over...tenfold. XP