As I lay dormant in my bed, recovering from another day of kicking donkey and general name-taking, raptor ninjas ninja'd into my room and assailed me as I rested.
I was in no shape to defend myself against these intruders after doing battle earlier in the day against assorted aliens and daemons; and the ninja raptors, weak as they were, overpowered me after a full three hours of furious, non-stop hand-to-hand combat.

Their goal was my laptop, and they managed to hack the password, and delete the 30 images documenting Sigmund's epic journey from Fortree to the Safari zone; all in the thirty seconds before I was able to turn the tables with my impeccable martial skill and suddenly recovered stamina.

Unfortunately, while my glorious, adonnis-esque body is capable of much, it cannot undelete files deleted by raptor ninjas in the dead of night.

The tale has been lost to all time, and a work of art truly lost.

I have no fudgeing idea what I did with them, I was fairly sure I saved them, but I might have deleted them by accident, thinking them processed images from "Part X-2 4: Electric Boogaloo 2: Rise of the Sigmund".
Oh well. Not a lot happened in that time, any way. Just grass. And rain. No pokemon of note, either.

It's like I just drank a pan-galactic gargle-blaster. One moment, I'm estatic with glee over my new badge, the next, I'm out in the middle of fudgeing nowhere.
It's vegas, all over again. Although, without the being buried in the sand bit, hopefully. That was not fun. Nor educational.

New Route, new pokemon sl- Friend.

As per expectations, I capture it flawlessly within my not inconsiderable balls.

Don't ask what the logic is behind this. Also much like Vegas, this section of the story is a barely-remembered haze of stumbling, ball-slinging and probably vomiting.

Ah, Baller is evolving. Like a bawse.

Baller now looks bad donkey. I should work on him, I suppose; he does need to be levelled, ready to put paid to... uh... I dunno. Fags that use metal types, I guess. Or magnetons.


Oh look, it's the pirates. Yar har, fiddle de dee.

Fortunately for me, they're more interested in this Mt. Pyre thing, so they leave me be. For once. I swear those wankers got nothing better to do than bother me.

I should probably follow them...

...right after I "talk" to these fine young ladies right here. With the only language I know how to use on hot females.


Well, that was fast. On her part, of course; being the gentleman that I am, I waited until after she was done to prematurely ejaculate.

Rare pokemon, huh? Safari Zone is it's own area, so I could catch a pokemon here. And my team is missing a flying type, after all.

Yesyesyes, show me the flying rare pokemon.

FUCK. NO. $500? Far too expensive. Make it cheaper, chocolatehead.


Alright, so apparently, it's not considered "acceptable" to "negotiate" admission fees for pokemon reserves with a pokemon. I would add this place to the chocolatelist, but I can't find my pen, and I'm not so mad that I can piss blood and use that instead.

Oh well. I'll stop here and look for the pen, hopefully I'll have found it before the next time wee meet.