a jar of lumpy brown snacks
I hope for his sake they were chocolatey nut clusters or some such.
One of the stove's dials was missing, and the plastic covering of the microwave's buttons were worn to nothing.
At least said buttons (presumably) still work. The 2 button on ours does exactly shit-all.
Mr. Sobottke, busy scraping out words of chalk onto the dusty chalkboard, didn't notice Sam open and read the paper.
Sometimes I misread words the first time around. This poor teacher briefly became "Mr. Skibootle".
"There's three hundred bucks on you, and four thousand on Matt," he said as he strangled a bar of soap in his hands.
That poor soap...
He smiled, revealing the filthiest teeth Sam had ever seen in his life. Three of his front teeth were missing, and the rest looked as if someone emptied a can of black spray paint into his mouth.
My mouth hurts just thinking about it.
"I'd like to place a wager."
"You can't bet on your opponent!" a crowd member said, waving around a cup that sloshed beer everywhere. "Rules are rules!"
"A hundred on myself," Sam said, taking a bill out of his wallet.
"Well! Looks like the kid's got guts! Tell 'ya what, you win, and I'll give you all the winnings, just so no one accuses me of being a cheat."
instantly suspects he'll be eating those words
The attack was so intense, the opponent's pokeball made an emergency return, zapping the medicham back inside its digital interior before the pokemon left the ground.
That's a spiffy feature right there, the kind of things poké balls should have.
Might dink up a match if the ball malfunctions, but a dinked match beats a dead pokeyman anyday, far as battles go.
[quoteHis first three attempts at plastic melding turned into useless lumps, the fourth caught fire, and the fifth, his attempt to create something in camouflage colors, more closely resembled vomit.[/quote]
Oh god and I'm sure all those attempts just smelled
lovely, too.
"I don't know how you boys can lose track of time so easily."
It just flies like an arrow when magikarp come up.
"Oh. Well, sweetie, that's great! How does Zafirro's for tomorrow sound?"
Sam could already taste the cheesy goodness of a triple-stuffed deep dish pizza.
COVETS IMMENSELY
He felt sorrow welling up in his stomach as he ate
Maybe he ought to stop eating sorrow and start in on those pancakes.
Sam reached up and took the stones off his shelf. He set each one on the bed in front of Luna.
"You'll need to evolve if we want to win. Take your pick."
Luna looked at each stone and turned her back on them. Sam returned the stones to the shelf.
"We stick to the original plan, then." He ran his fingers through Luna's coat and said, "You'll evolve any day now. Or night. Which one would you prefer?"
Luna shrugged her shoulders, and Sam said, "Yeah, I suppose it doesn't matter. You'll be great either way."
"Vee." Of course I will, she seemed to say.
What she really meant was
I still want to be a leafeon, dernit.
"Oh, shut up!"
"Shut up!" Pete squawked as he landed on a cash register. "Shut up, up, shut up!"
I love chatot. I taught one of mine fly. Consequently he goes "Squadalah!" every time he takes off.
Sam walked up to Lucky Red. The ringmaster said, "You're up against Slick. Ready for it?"
?
???
He sipped a can of generic root beer
I want to believe it looked exactly like
this.
Cloud the pidgeot, a thick, muscular bird with a chip in its beak, hissed at Sam.
Adorable.
Sam took another step towards Cloud. The pidgeot screeched and flapped his wings at him. Sam lowered the beak's slot, took off his right glove, and placed his hand in his mouth. He pressed down with his teeth, harder and harder, until he broke through his skin.
He held out his bleeding hand towards the pidgeot. A drop of blood hit the floor as Cloud hopped off his perch and walked towards Sam. Cloud slowly approached Sam's hand, opened his beak, and bit down. Sam could feel Cloud's beak scrape against his finger-bones. Sam forced himself to stay still as his blood dripped down Cloud's beak. Cloud's grip tightened and he could feel his bones creaking.
OH WHAT THE SHIT, OW. Sam what even. What even. If you want to lose your hand there's far more efficient ways to do it. Or do you not want your dismemberment
handed to you?
That wasn't meant as a pun but I'm declaring it one retroactively.
A minute passed. Sweat trickled down Sam's neck and his left hand twitched. Then the pidgeot released his hand
burger. His handburger.
Cloud placed his wing into his own beak and bit down, drawing blood, and then he held the wing towards Sam. Sam bit down on the wing, just hard enough to pierce the delicate skin above Cloud's wing bones.
Don't try this at home, kids. Poultry should always be thoroughly cooked.
Sam also received an appointment, at eight PM that Saturday, for a rematch with the recruiter. Robert had hoped for an earlier time, so that Luna might evolve into an espeon, but he accepted the fact that one cannot predict an evolution.
Sam. Her name is Luna. You might as well just start accepting your inevitable ownership of an umbreon now.
[quote"Hey! Let me down, Luna!"
The glow vanished, and Sam fell onto his bed. He leaned up, turned his alarm clock off, and rubbed his head. He felt Luna jump onto his bed, but when he looked at her, his mind froze. He rummaged through his memories of the previous night and even checked under the bed for his invitation to the GameMaster's ring. It was there. Last night happened. Yet, inexplicably, his Luna was an espeon.[/quote]
Oh. She's an esbreon.
As Cloud flew around the beam, the attack slammed into an invisible barrier and showered tiny ice crystals onto the field.
Pretty!
Two men in brown and yellow masks
I want to believe they were stunfisk masks.
Walford brushed his hair aside and grinned.
Oh god damnit I read that as Wailord.
He spread out the pieces onto the table and stuck them in place with sewing needles, pricking the finish on the table as he strung his evidence together.
Poor table. :(
