Forbidden Waters – 14
Cliffe leaned back in the seat of a musty, unmarked Mudsdale patrol truck with a big ‘Mauville Maintenance’ magnetic brand marker slapped on the side. His once clean-shaven face had become a black wiry mop atop a disheveled stalk, dressed in dirt-stained denims and wash-faded flannels. Parked next to a nearby home where a team of contractors were upending a suburban postage stamp of grass he had been watching, waiting, scribbling notes into a hundred-dollar-store notepad, sipping mediocre coffee that cost a fortune for the privilege of having his name misspelled on the cup.
And now he was sleeping like a baby.
His partner floated up to his face, chiming with a Metal-Sound that mimicked a fire alarm. He smacked Cliffe’s face with his little metal appendages as hard as he could and slammed them onto his chest like a lost hiker taking his anger out on the ground.
Cliff’s limbs twitched, bushy face wobbling back and forth as his eyes fluttered open, then he snorted and coughed. “Huh! Wha! Hooo, hoo man. What’s up?”
The Klefki, who was now adorned with a cute little leather tag hanging from him with a gold pin with the image of a sunset hanging over Mt. Chimney, stabbed a lockpick towards Richard Stone’s estate.
Jun Singh and her partners had already left the front door, locked it up, and were marching towards the car. Around her neck was a Wurmple with scars all over its body and a pair of eyepatches over its eyes. Franklin wheeled around his momma in frantic circles. Jimmy, now dressed in a custom red hoodie, hung back with his one hand stuck into the pocket of a pair of hand-sewn black exercise pants.
“Whew, thanks Klink!” Cliffe brushed his finger gently around his metal ring. “Good boy!”
Klink sang like a crystal glass filled with wine.
Cliffe strung a chain with his badge over his chest, clipped his gun, his cuffs, and his black and blue Arrest Balls to his belt. “About fucking time the circus left town.”
Jun patiently secured Franklin with his harness, snapped shut the cage door of a carrier box for her newest companion, and waited for Jimmy to buckle himself into the front. She started the car and adjusted the rear view mirror to peer at the muddy old hatchback on the opposite corner; It had been there for days. Yeah, the neighbors were getting their sewer line dug up and that took a good while, but blue collar guys always had some home with no wife and a kid they had to watch for half of the week. Nobody cared about some stubborn suburban shit pipe enough to guard the site day and night, no way.
“Something’s going down, guys. And it smells rotten,” she muttered as she threw the car into drive, carefully eyeing her speedometer to ensure she stayed just below the speed limit. “Ready, Jimmy?”
Jimmy looked up at her just past the edge of his hood with a serious look, giving her a cool thumb up.
Cliffe watched her disappear around the corner, then he watched the green led display of the radio for a while in complete silence as he mentally logged every visible angle. “One minute, two minute, three minute, four; jump out, boys it's time to score!” He held out his fist and Klink poked it with a steel tension bar in approval.
Cliffe kicked the door open with a pair of black thrift-store steel toe boots and swaggered towards the property like he’d just signed a sixty-year mortgage. He stretched as if he was coming home from a long day of work and extended his arm for Klink. His partner slid down his bicep like a kid at a waterpark, metal instruments gunning for the locks like the knobbly-fingered hand of an old wizard.
The undercover officer peered over his shoulder calmly, looking out for wary eyes as Klink violated the lock. He’d seen the mon do this a hundred times in training, but it still amazed him how deftly his partner was able to unsecure a door as naturally as a Pidgey cleaning dirt from its wings. This Emil guy had three locks stacked atop each other, but eventually Klink posed proudly on his wrist, gesturing like a butler welcoming him home.
Nobody needed that many locks on a house, he thought as he slowly opened the door. A steel security chain in the middle of the doorframe, attached to an apparatus that kept it just out of reach of any normal pair of bolt cutters. Exactly as he expected, up to no good. He smiled as Klink turned sideways, slipped through the crack in the door, and unlatched the chain.
“Looks like we’ll be taking the rear exit, buddy,” Cliffe declared, and then secured the locks and chain behind him.
Immediately he was hit with a strange musty smell. He couldn’t place it, but it was definitely there. He zoomed across the living room to check the back door and unlock it for a speedy exit. Since he ended up there, he figured he’d start in the kitchen. Or, the ‘freaky naturalist apothecary,’ he thought. Wholistically grown produce labels littered the shelves, three blenders stood proud in front of a technicolor army of vitamin bottles, nutrient pastes, and medicinal supplements. All around were diet plans and books dedicated to a meat free life. Cliffe opened the fridge and shook his head. “Dude eats like a Bunnelby.”
Then he opened a second freezer with cute little vaporeon magnets and a label reading ‘Vaporeon’s Vittles.’ It was full to the brim with hundreds of pounds of meat, carefully doled out with regiment dates and allowances scrawled in sharpie. “Eh, guess you can’t feed a powerhouse like that on grass and carrots.” On his way out of the kitchen, a brand new pokemon-bed half hanging out of the garbage caught his eye. A little red bow on the side with the tag reading, ‘Amar la Mama.’ Cliffe Scribbled down the foreign words in his notebook, but he knew what Momma meant, at least.
“Poor guy, probably hung on to that for his kid forever. Too bad the freaks’ probably going down for Obscenity charges. Assumin’ my hunches are right.”
Klink nodded in agreement with a mean little scowl and zoomed around, peering at anything strange to him the moment, which didn’t mean a whole lot since almost everything about the guy’s house was strange. The living area was tiled in marble with a massive white and gold water feature in the corner. Thirty or forty books on Pokemon anatomy, specifically Eevee line anatomy, had been neatly stacked on an antique coffee table, and incense bowls filled with ashes dotted the place like medieval sconces. There was a distinctly nerd-shaped indentation on the ultra-plush couch at the center of the room, outfitted with one of the most elaborate surround sound speaker systems he’d ever seen… and not a television in sight.
“Dude really likes Eevees, damn. Great with kids, I bet.”
Klink zoomed past into the nearest room and chimed an impressed whistle. This wasn’t a bedroom, it was a gods-damned dungeon! Metal benches had strange devices hanging from them made of chains and springs and locks, wheels and ratchets and loops, bars and brackets and buckles assembled into what could only be a collection of deranged torture devices. A workshop forged from a clearly distorted brain.
“Shit, nevermind.”
He turned around to the second bedroom and that's when the odor really hit him. Gods, what was that smell?! He just couldn’t place it but it seemed familiar, like that one music cd in your collection up in the attic you wanted to show your friends but it conspicuously ended up missing. The smell wasn’t really overpowering, but he instinctively covered his mouth as he intruded on Emil’s sanctum. The bed was lavish, covered in silky red sheets with plush silk pillows all over. The place resembled several bedrooms he saw in those nasty ass Violet Enterprise films criminals distributed on the streets…that he watched for research…from time to time. Disgusting, really.
“Yep, I’m taking this dude’s computer.”
He peered into all his most private places, searching for anything even remotely resembling an electronic device, but he came up short. He huffed in frustration as he realized he’d grabbed a mismatched shoebox of sex-toys and kicked them back under the bed.
What he did find, though, was a stack of letters in a drawer that smelled of something he absolutely did recognize. “Venomoth dust was here,” he said to himself as he ran a finger along its crevices and clicked on his flashlight, revealing a faint sparkle on his skin. The handwritten correspondence was totally incomprehensible to him, scribbled and looped around in slick cursive Paldean, but the signature at the bottom was unmistakable. ‘Mami’.
“What the hell?” Cliffe stumbled and coughed as he read it, scanning the copy of Emilio Mallison’s background he kept in his brain. “His mother passed away in 510, and this was stamped a month ago. He… oh my… h-holy shit!”
Klink peeped and jingled with intense interest, looking up at his master longingly.
“Y-yeah, boy. This… this…” Cliffe pumped his arm and grinned wildly. “Hell yes, this is a murder! Uh, I mean…” He brushed the embarrassment from his shirt and cleared his throat. “Damn this guy is messed up,” he corrected himself.
He stuffed the letters into the inner pocket of his flannel jacket and started taking pictures with his Dexnav of all the rooms in the house. No computer, but he scribbled down the make, model, serial, and address of the router hanging up in the living room. No need for one of those if he wasn’t surfing the net, after all. He stuffed his notepad in a back pocket, metal coil binding sticking out like a sore thumb, and opened the back door to make his escape.
“Who the hell are you?!” Jun shouted. She stood there with a mean scowl on her face, while Franklin and Jimmy stood stalwartly between her and the miscreant she’d caught breaking into her friend’s house.
Cliffe jumped and instinctively reached for his gun, then he stopped as he realized how bad that would go down. The fear of being locked in a coffin of demotions beneath an endless heap of paperwork was strong on the force. “Hoenn Department of Investigations, miss. Go back to your home and–”
“Warrant,” Jun said with a face that was so devoid of patience she looked like she might snap him with a ruler if he misspelled his vocabulary words again.
He stiffened his jaw and stood his back up straight. “Excuse me?”
She folded her arms, “Warrant and badge number. Or you’re trespassing and, as designated homesitter, I’m allowed to use force to evict you and recover property.”
He winced and he fumbled around with his belt, making Jun nervous. “Badge five six nine three four. Look, it's nice you think you understand the law, miss. But you’re interfering with my investigation and–”
She stomped her feet down and started recording a video on her Dexnav. “Municipal Residence Code, Section Six, says you cannot be here. Warrant now or drop your shit and I’m calling your bosses.”
Klink hissed at them as the two sides stared each other down. “Klink, go!” The little mon zipped between Jimmy and Franklin like a bullet, snatching up Jun’s dexnav in an instant.
Jun yelled out in surprise, then patted Jimmy on the shoulder and said. “Get 'em, Jimmy! Don’t let him leave!” Jimmy went straight for Cliffe, but he didn’t grab the officer; instead, he blockaded the retreat with superior speed and agility. The one-armed-wonder even body checked Cliffe into the back of the house, knocking the wind from his sails. Klink handed off the Dexnav to Cliffe and then smacked his tiny body against Jimmy again and again, leaving ring-shaped bruises in Jimmy’s flesh.
Jun crouched, scooped up Franklin and whispered into his ear. “Covet.”
Franklin smiled mischievously and tip-toed away from her, the squeaking in his wheels suddenly going totally silent as Jimmy finally snatched Klink out of the air and held him in a death-grip.
Cliffe wrestled with Jimmy a few times and then realized he wasn’t getting anywhere trying to outspeed a Machop, so he reached for his belt and clutched at the spot where his Arrest Balls were supposed to be. “What the fuck?” His Dexnav and his notebook were gone too!
Jun smiled, “What’s wrong, aren’t you gonna take my ‘mon from me?”
“Where’s my stuff?!” He yelled out.
She shrugged. “Why do I care, Spoink? I’m not your mom.”
“Welp, hope that coffin is comfy,” he thought.
Cliff reached for his gun, drew it at the ready, and kept it at a forty-five degree angle to the ground. “Miss, if you don’t call off your Pokemon, I will use deadly force.”
She glared at him with tired, dead eyes beneath her half-moon glasses. “Shoot me. Shoot my ‘mon.”
Nobody moved for an entire minute, locked in a prison of bone chilling silence.
Her gaze didn’t change at all, she only blinked a couple times in the tense air, like a diver keeping their eyes ex without goggles. “Go on, if you think you’ll come out of court with your life intact.” She pointed her thumb back at Richard’s house. “Smile for the Camera.”
Cliffe holstered his revolver, jaw clenched with a fury inside him he’d never felt before, then he smiled calmly and held his hands out in a gesture of submission. “Look, this ended up in a big misunderstanding. Let me delete the video on your Dexnav, give me back my gear, and I’ll drop the assault charges.”
Her throat croaked with dry, joyless laughter. “Nice try. Saw them laying by the front door. Be more careful with your stuff, ‘Officer.’ Give it back and I’ll delete the video.”
He tossed the Dexnav to her and she showed herself deleting the video on screen. “Send a Jenny, next time.”
Cliffe recalled his pokemon, who was released from Jimmy’s hand panting and coughing in distress. He stomped defiantly past the gate of the back yard as Jun waved at him cheerily before slamming the gate and putting the padlock in place. Sure enough, there were his Arrest Balls in a neat little pile on the perfectly manicured grass besides a shattered Dexnav and a notepad with conspicuously missing pages.
Jun leaned against the fence and then slid down to her butt, holding her chest. Her heart was smashing her chest apart, and she only then started feeling the shock of having a weapon drawn on her as the sour taste of adrenaline left her mouth. Franklin came cruising around the other side of the house and came to a crashing stop in his mother’s lap. She smooched him on the cheek and hugged him tight. “Good job, baby.”
She looked up to Jimmy and immediately shut her eyes as her retinas burned from a glowing white light. “Jimmy! Oh my gosh, oh my gosh!” She fumbled with her Dexnav, stumbling over her words. “Jimmy, this is so exc–”
Rrrrrip, Pomp!
Jimmy’s body expanded, muscles and stature suddenly doubled, and his clothes exploded all over the yard like birthday confetti. He looked down at his rippling muscles, still missing one arm, and cried out in sadness as his awesome new clothes were ruined. Jimmy had evolved into a Machoke and Jun, having caught the whole thing on camera, laughed out loud as Franklin tackled his brother and nuzzled his cheek in celebration.
Cliffe, entered his truck, released his partner into the side seat, and then wildly smacked his hands against the wheel. “Dammit, dammit, dammit!”
Klink, who’s entire body was bent out of shape like a paperclip left in the hands of a child suffering from ADHD, hopped up to his master’s side and snuggled him, ringing with concern on his face.
He breathed in and out, gripping the wheel so tight his skin might have fused with the plastic if he’d left it like that any longer. Then he shook his head and smacked the wheel one final time. “It’s ok,” he said as he cradled Klink in his palms, soothing his injuries. He reached into his pocket and found the letters he’d stuffed into his jacket.
In the distance, leaving the driveway of a nearby home, a white sedan being driven by Dr. Inoue disappeared around a nearby corner.
“We got all the bread crumbs we need, buddy.”
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - –
“Constantly, huh?” Val asked as her hair was illuminated under rays of morning sunshine.
Emil drank from a girly looking teacup served to him by Spinel on a dainty floral saucer. “Yeah, pretty much.” He liked mornings about as much as he liked manually formatting a hard drive, but he had to admit the quiet and the glorious sunrise on the natural landscape was breathtaking.
She smiled. “Brave.” She looked at Vaporeon with a cheeky grin and wiped a strand of hair out of her face. “Keeen fenfen kenny kin, Kenfen kenny fen?”
Vaporeon blushed furiously and looked away. “Vapvap vaeon vap.”
Spinel gasped, grinned like an Impidimp, and then looked up at Emil and smacked him on the bum with a stealthy ribbon. Emil yiped and then looked around at the three without anything to say for himself, or having any idea what to answer for.
Val scoffed and rolled her eyes. “In the car, Mason?”
Emil jumped in his chest, now turning pink himself. “I’ve got class three tinting on my windows, even added an extra layer against regulation. And we did it in a park, nobody around really.”
Spinel rolled his eyes and handed a cup of tea to Vaporeon, who sipped and chirped with delight. “Syleeeleeon… Eoneleon”
“Precisely!” Valorie proclaimed. “What if a psychic type was nearby? Idiot!” She grabbed a freshly grilled sausage from the portable stove top they were all sharing from and bit into it like a barbarian.
Emilio turned his head away, embarrassed and humiliated. He took his glasses off and placed them on his head. Vaporeon curled up in his lap, pawing at his chest to get him back into the conversation, knowing this was his signal that he was checking out.
Valorie swallowed and chuckled. “I’m not really scolding you, Pote. Hehe, I remember my first.” She squinted at her three breakfast mates and said, “Kinkenfenkenny, kinfen akin fen. Eh fen kennefen”
Vaporeon’s jaw dropped and Spinel blushed for real, nearly breaking his teacup on the steel floor.
Emil stared at her with a blank expression. “Sorry, I don’t get it.”
“Wait,” Valorie’s eyebrow raised and she turned on her milk-crate seat. “Akin Ken?”
Vaporeon and Spinel watched Emil and Emil suddenly realized he was on stage. “I, I don’t understand, I’m sorry.”
Vaporeon climbed up around his shoulders and whispered into his ear. “She asked if you speak ‘mon.”
Emil nodded, then shook his head. “No, I don’t”
Then she licked his cheek and smiled. “She also said she mated in her Admiral’s cabin.”
His jaw dropped and Valorie cackled, stomping her boots in delight.
“Oh m’gods, Mason. You’ve been eating nothin’ but sushi for a year and ye can’t even talk to yer mate?”
Emil looked at Vaporeon and she purred, rubbing her face against his cheek. “I guess I just never needed it. She learned to speak so fast and all. I kinda understand her a bit, but with other ‘mon it's just gibberish.”
Valorie shook her head. “You’re missin’ out on so much, dude. Yeah, she’s smart as a whip. Like, two whips even. I didn’t even know ‘mon could get that smart. But that’s no excuse for you to… gah.” She snapped her fingers to get Emil’s attention. “Look into your partner’s eyes and say this.” She grabbed him by the chin, leaned in and whispered it into Emilio’s ear. “Vaaapeeeoooon, eooon, eooon, evapova.” She said it lustfully, full of the sexual tension she’d been containing within her since she left the Village.
Emil’s head dashed back and forth and finally his eyes interfaced with his love’s. He put his hand on her cheek and whispered it into her ear. “Vaaa…Vaaapeeeoooon, eooon, eooon, evapova.”
Vaporeon’s entire body shivered and she vocally gushed, face finally imitating the Cherri-Saffron Puerh in her cup.
“Oh.”
Valorie nodded and resumed her post. “Yeah. There are powerful emotions, deep meanings, entire concepts we don’t even know how to express in human speech that you’ve been holding back from her! Look, you’re already bilingual, I gathered that. You’re one step away from showing her every bit of commitment you ever could and I’m not gonna let you leave this damn tournament or whatever until you’ve done exactly that. Got that?”
Emil snuggled with Vaporeon, who had turned into a swooning puddle in his arms. “Yes, absolutely. Thank you so much!”
“You gotta promise me somethin’, Mason.” She skewered him with a suddenly hollow, tired gaze. “You gotta get’chur shit together. I dunno what they do to us where yer from, but I was good friends with two that’re feeding the fish just off the coast you showed up on. And, just in case you end up in someone’s woodchipper, make sure this lovely lady knows you gave her every spare spark of your devotion.”
His body stiffened like a column of coral at that. “Yes ma’am!”
She nodded once she realized he’d gotten the point. “Lessons start at oh-four-thirty. Dismissed.”
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - –
On an aged wooden desk, decorated in the style of Kalos’ golden age, a velvet-gloved hand caresses the mahogany grip of a crimson Unfezant quill above a sheet of hand-pressed artisanal parchment. Its thirst is quenched with a sip from the satin well, primed again for journeys of the mind.
Is there anything more eminent than the great, perpetual comedy of love?
Tell me, immaterial reader, starchild who sits with Arceus guarding the prison of deceit, can you show me something that better captures the inexorable dance of life and death?
I shall wait…
A single stroke of a quill suddenly stops and a few blotches of ink smatter the page.
Just as I thought; not a word from any of you, yet AGAIN!
It stands before me, Prince Meyer of Lumiose Spire, Master of the Metalworks, future king of all things beautiful and just to show you the great inexhaustible struggle. For it is because Arceus has locked away the prince of lies that the world is full of truth, and it is this truth he has whispered into my humble, mortal ears.
The stage is set, let the cosmic drama commence!
A man in his prime, at the top of the world, the king of his castle, tours the world in search of loftier summits to climb. Regardless, oblivious, reckless of when he too might touch the sun and rain the world in lifegiving ash.
Such is the fate of all; to nourish the souls of future, newer, better men.
We shall call him Courage!
At his side is his trusty steed. A gorgeous creature with flowing magical locks that serves his master’s every petty need. So he may concern himself with the heavens, of course. Does courage even see him in the glamorous light of the sun?
Irrelevant, I say, for his name is Devotion! And his soul knows that the light which shines upon Courage shines upon him too.
Of course, though we would often like to, we cannot forget the shadow. The thing which hangs in our wake, with everything we ever desired, pestering us with the itchy rash of integrity.
This wretched thing is Prudence! Chicanery’s chains, that which confines us to the truth.
But of course, what would a king and his entourage be without the greatest prize of all for him to reach for as he creeps towards the daylight.
She stands before everything, atop the entire world, knowing above all else what lies in her bosom commands the will of all men. Not a thousand fortunes, the power of a million men, nor the promise of the turning of heaven and the earth could satisfy her churning blaze.
For she is Passion! The taker of all but the worthiest of souls.
The play begins, set aboard a stage of wonderful, colorful errors.
Courage grabs Prudence by the breast, wild desire in his eyes. “I have seen the most beautiful woman, dearest Prudence. I saw her in my dreams.”
Prudence, with senses rooted to the earth like those of the mighty oak, shoves Courage into his boots. “T’was not a dream, fool! You blundered about in a blasted brannigan, falling before her feet in such a forgettable heap.”
Unswayed by his shade, he looks into Prudence's eyes with glee. “So such a goddess exists? Rejoice!”
Ever watchful, ever faithful, Devotion peers into the distance. “Recurring dreams walk the earth, my Lord!”
She is regal. She is strong. She is untamable. Queen Hydreigon of a thousand watery roads ruled beneath a thousand shadowy spires, wildfire hair and eyes like spring melt grass.
“I shall tame this creature and make her mine. Nay, I must!”
“She can never be yours, for such a beast belongs only to the world,” Prudence chides, wrapped in his precious sapphire jewels.
Devotion stands proudly by Courage’s side. “Then he must command the world, then!”
Courage, side to side with Devotion, seals his own fate. “Off to your shadows, Prudence. They’ll be darker for you once I’ve claimed this heavenly light!”
Devotion’s eyes shine. “Courage, see now. She eats. Perhaps you could claim her food. Show her you are king of all that is beneath Arceus’ light.”
Passion turns away from him as he approaches her den, playing coy at the mighty King's advances. “Leave now or you shall suffer greatly under my deeds.”
This is the moment, the singular point where Courage must show he deserves all that his will demands of him. With a swift and dominant hand, he grabs Passion’s treasure and holds it aloft. “I have taken what is yours, what will you do now?” He leans in, awaiting her answer.
She turns towards him and smiles. Yes, this is the Light of Kings, the way of the bravest souls. There are many paths love takes, and this one is only for the stoutest of hearts.
But wait. What is this now?
Passion leaps from her den and plunges into the water. Where has she gone?
Following an eternity of suspense, Passion erupts in glistening spray, dousing Courage’s flame like a miser’s torch. In her arms is the corpse of a legendary serpent, now a bountenous feast. “I’m feeling generous. Be gone.”
What? This is something strange. Continue, dear patron of the arts, read on as I witness the dance of the Cutieflies in action. Courage must overcome!
He climbs to her heights and claims her throne as his own. “Eat with me, Viridian Queen.”
“Begone, or I will destroy you.” Passion hisses, curled up, ready to strike for the throat.
Our hero leans closer in, arms around her like he’s known her his whole life, and he is shoved from on high. He tumbles and rolls across the earth like a boulder pulled loose on the cliff sides.
Courage picks himself up, jaw tight with defiance, and steps away.
His quill scrapes across the entire page, marring it in smears of obsidian ink.
Courage steps away?!
This is not how the Light of the King plays out! Cut! Something is awry!
Devotion points to his Lord and bellows with smoldering mockery. “No dinner, my lord. But at least you’ve quenched your thirst! Perhaps you’d prefer I feed your desires instead?”
This is blasphemy!
Passion does turn down his advances, but shows the determined fool bits of hope. Devotion should encourage him to climb, higher and higher, there to hold his feet at the walls he must scale. Prudence should be in the background, orchestrating miracles of coincidence.
Am I deluded? Did I mistake the messenger clouds of Enamorus that early spring morning? Am I not your Sage of the Heart, Lord Arceus?!
And who is this enigmatic Queen of the Riverways?
It is a test. The world conceals nothing so long as our eyes open wide enough, and deception lies solely within the hearts of men. This is Love, it must be love, it IS the Light of Kings. I shudder at the thought of these spoilt children of the fallen son souring this great sacrament atop God’s most rapturous stage!
The hand of god is ready to guide the stage lights of truth upon these theatrical knaves.
The writer’s tip tapping left disjointed constellations of stippling in the parchment.
Oh Lord, direct me in this tragic quest.
Then a curiously adept sketch of Valorie’s face was scrawled, a woman peering into the soul of the reader on a background of stars.
Soon, I shall know you, Viridian Queen.
The face of a Blaziken is drawn at the bottom in the signature spot, stern of face, empty eyes crying runny blobs of ink.
I, again, must don The Mask.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - –
Spinel had doubled over, body crooked like a shepherd's cane and drowning to death in a tsunami of laughter. A forest of jubilant onlookers erupted into fits of juvenile guffawing as Richard wrung his hot-pink polo out like he’d been caught in a storm. Valorie climbed aboard a taut jute manrope, hefting the limp, bleeding corpse of a young Dragonair up around her body. She sheathed her knives and slapped shoulders with a scrawny tattooed deckhand helping her back up.
“You little shit! You knew about that, didn’t you?!” Richard bellowed.
The Sylveon’s face had practically gone purple as he finally caught his breath. “{Hah… hooo, oh.. you’re so adorable when you’re angry!}”
Pink shirt thrown off to dry, he leaned onto the railing in a huff. “Yeeeah, yeah, {you’re my type when I’m horny!} or whatever you said, too!”
One of Spinel’s ribbons covered his mouth in surprise at Richard’s unintentionally crass ‘mon speech. Then his cheeks bloomed as he suddenly beheld Richard’s expertly toned body, tank top tan lines, and unblemished skin and muscles glistening wet in the afternoon sun. Even Emil couldn’t help but chuckle himself, beginning to succumb to the mischievous aura, and covered his mouth as he silently reveled in Richard’s misfortunes.
Richard, in the fullness of his own time, softened from the social blow and laughed out at the absurdity of it all. He kicked Spinel playfully and punched Emil’s shoulder just hard enough to squeak him like a chew toy. “Betcha I can turn her around.”
Emilio clasped hands with the best friend he’d ever been stuck with. “That’s a bet.”
