Alright, so a quick search of the town turns up Steven-less. So, he's probably hiding in a cave or some bullchocolate.

I pray this is not an omen of impending retardation.

Cave, ahoy! Time to catch something, and then talk to this miner/hiker/whatever.

I could do worse, I suppose - but I could do better, too.

Not even trying.

Why? Because he's a goddamn bat, man! (har har, see what I did there? I'm so witty.)
Anyway, the man is arbitarily generous, he gives me another HM, FLASH.

My pokemon can expose private parts to blind people, now!

Or not. Thanks for chocolateting all over my plan, miner dude.
Alright, let's go kick some donkey.


This looks like the place.

Alright, here I go-

Who turned out the fudgeing lights?

Was it yo- oh, wait, you're that not-very-helpful guy.

Oh, alright, I thought his game was water-types. Perhaps you're not so useless after al-

I retract that statement.


Hey, look! Beating people into the ground increases my sphere of ignorance!

Those feet look dangerous, I'll leave them be for now.

Ha! Take that, you flat-chested whore!

What? Oh godohgodohgod

Fuck yeah, a psychic! I hear that fighting types don't like masters of mindfudgeery much.

Double the donkey-kicking, double the sphere-growth.



Alright, a quick heal, and I'm ready to take on BRAWLY.

I AM SIGMUND, NOT A GYM LEADER, BUT MY DAD IS

I like this man, he's all about bidness.

First up to die, a Machop. I wish I had a machop.

Let's see how he likes my pokemon's ability to mess with his mind.

Ouch. Not much of a thinker, was he?

Oddly enough, I think Meditites are part psychic, so Ramirez will have to handle this one.

I AM FLAPPING MY WINGS AT YOU, DIE NOW

Long story short, it doesn't die, and tries this on the next turn.

I don't even want to know what it was charging up for, but it can't use it now.
Next up, Makuhita.

THERE IS NO SPOON, MOTHERFUCKER

This pleases me.
And with that, he is out of pokemans.

I stand, victorious, over the bodies of his dead pokemon. He must reward me accordingly.


Fabulous - a license to whip it out in public.

And there wee are. Now a whole quarter hipster, and...

Check it. Flawless victory, not a scratch on me. I'm pretty pleased about that.