Yo, so, mah brutha n' I, we faped to Pokémon evry dai. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch fo' realz. Around here a shitload of lil playas done did. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Well shiiiit, it hit dat shiznit up perfectly fo' us, too - every last muthafuckin time a freshly smoked up gen came up one of our asses would git one version, one of our asses would git tha other, n' since our momma was horny bout ta spoil us, we both gots tha 3rd one. This is goin ta sound, at first, like a funky-ass bittersweet rap bout two siblings whoz ass grow up wit a cold-ass lil couple game dat eventually take dem down two different roads… Well, it’s a lil mo' than dis shit, biatch.
Da muthafuckin years rolled by, we kept collecting. Gameboys gots old; we stuck em up our azz. Cartridges finally gave out, we picked up freshly smoked up rom hakz. Put ya cok up mai but if ya feel dis! But we started down two straight-up different roadz before Ruby, Sapphire, n' Emerald came out. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. See, round then mah brutha gots a GameShark. Our thugged-out asses had heard all tha hacks n' cheats you could do wit them, even if we was kind of late ta tha party, n' they sounded liek a orgy azz time, dawg.
Our first guinea pig cartridge was mah brother’s old azz fuk Blue version. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Us playas just dicked round wit it a lil bit, not a god damn thang major. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. But whatever our phat asses did fucked tha cartridge up fo' realz. I mean, shit startd flyin evrwher man! After just a cold-ass lil couple code entries, it blew up and came straight-up n' became unplayable. Naturally we was upset at first; mah brutha mourned tha loss of his crazy-ass minutez of work, n' I was sympathetic. I holla'd at him, “It’s all gravy, we can steal new onez adn blew dat up two. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Stupid shark was a waste of scrilla.”
But here our paths finally differed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! After seein tha mess it had turned Blue version into, I had become opposed ta tha scam of jackin off or cheatin any of mah games. (What can I say, biatch? I’m a cold-ass lil chick. I feel vibe fo' tha lil pixel-critters.) At least wit dat GameShark. But mah brutha had taken his wild lil' freakadelic game’s destruction as a underground challenge or suttin' - I don’t be thinkin he eva played a game afta dat which wasn’t jacked off somehow. Yeah, we played a shiznit ton of Pokémon, man. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. But fo' our asses there straight-up wasn’t much else ta do; our slick asses live way up in tha ghetto without nuff other kids, n' tha farmers didn’t want our asses on they property… so… we played Pokémon up on tha lawn just bout all day, every last muthafuckin day. It make me wanna hollar playa! Dat shiznit was pretty phat ta us, at least. We lost tha GameShark when our rooms gots moved around. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! A freshly smoked up addizzle was built onto our doggy den n' it disappeared up in tha mess of shiznit dat gots stuffed tha fuck into tha freshly smoked up closet.
Ruby/Sapphire/Emerald arrived, n' afta playin all up in dem once we was both up in agreement dat they was definitely lackin up in comparison ta tha last gen. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. We both tried another real play-through, n' though we managed ta finish, it left our asses both yearnin fo' some phat old-fashioned nostalgia, wehn we jaked each otherz coks off. Where was our oldschool Gold, Silver, n' Crystal cartridges though, biatch? It took our asses probably a month ta dig through all teh shit up or azzez, but we hitz shit kapital: My fuckin oldschool purple Gameboy Color still worked, his bangin red one could no longer hold batteries up in place.
Both of our GBAs was fine, though, along wit our snakelights n' link cables, da one we uzed 4 sexz az a dildo. We both grabbed up every last muthafuckin thang we could. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Dat shiznit was so sick ta have Yellow (which had been mah first n' most cherished game of any series, not just Pokémon) n' Red n' Brown back.
Us thugs went all up in tha motionz of checkin our oldschool files, takin up in all tha oldschool sexz, n' eventually we figured tha gen 1 shiznit was just too nostalgic ta git rid of. I restarted Gold, he restarted Silver n' shit. Immediately da perved-out muthafucka snatched tha GameShark outta tha box n' slipped it tha fuck into tha back of his GBA. I fukin lozt mai shitz adn started to reap him with a plaztik dildo.
“That thang will bust a cap up in yo' gamez azz, you know, fuk faze." I yeld at hiz azz.
Dude never had was horny bout me preachin ta his ass bout ‘abusin pixels.’ I shut mah grill afta dat yo, but it had put his ass off from playin wit mah dirty ass. I guess dat shiznit was just one time too nuff or something; I oughta know ta keep mah thoughts ta mah dirty ass, straight-up…
Dat shiznit was a cold-ass lil couple minutes later dat it happened. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I was up on tha porch, fapin to some pokemawn 34 when i neded a levl 1,000 fukasaur. I figurd mia ghey azz brotha had one, cause he haks adn haz 69 levl 9001 dachshunds.
Now, tha thang is dat I’d dropped tha last 24 minutes at a gangbangin' playa’s place. I had literally come home, dumped mah bag up in mah room, n' crept up tha fuck into tha sun wit mah GBA ta play. I had no clue what tha fuck he’d been up to. For all I knew da thug was done wit tha game n' onto a freshly smoked up one… which, I figured, was all tha mo' betta fo' me since da thug wouldn’t need dem Pokémon n' I’d stand a funky-ass mo' betta chizzle of nickin a gangbangin' few. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So I gots up n' went tha fuck into tha house, n' when I was crossin tha livin room I noticed all of his Pokémon game lyin on tha floor, with jizz adn shitz all over them azzes.
Yo, a shitload of tha cartridges had been mangled, like they’d been jacked at wit suttin' sharp. Even his oldschool Blue version, long ago dead n' too sentimenstrual ta throw away, was lyin wit tha plastic cut ragged, with shitz al over itz sowi azz. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I was a lil trippin like a muthafucka. This had ta have happened dis morning, otherwise our momma would have peeped n' they wouldn’t be lyin on tha carpet liek a cuck. Tuckin mah GBA tha fuck into mah pocket, I crept over ta his bangin room n' found tha door unlocked. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Somehow dat was even mo' mezed up, motha fuka.
I strutted up in n' found mah brutha chillin on tha edge of his bed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! His GBA was up in pieces on tha floor at his wild lil' feet, smashed ta bits adn shitz, n' you can put dat on yo' toast. Next ta his ass on tha bed was a dilda n' our mother’s gardenin scissors yo. How da fuk did he getz dat? His grill was pala than I’d eva peeped it, even whiter than tha time we’d gone cornin n' tha oldschool muthafucka up tha street, adn a popo shot owr azzez 9694023862306 timez. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Dat shiznit was now I also noticed tha GameShark on tha ground, n' a silver cartridge corner pokin from under his bed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Somehow they had been spared tha wrath of tha dilda.
“Is you aiiight?” I asked. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I remember tha chills dat ran all up in mah dirty ass yo. Dude was mah lil brutha n' shit. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Seein his ass like dis was horrifying.
“Dat shiznit was awful,” I remember his ass rasping, n' tha way his voice rattled made mah knees weak. “Oh god. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Brown everywhere, n' then BLACK…”
I remember hustlin over n' huggin his muthafuckin ass fo' realz. And I remember, his fuckin limp arm fell tha fuck n' brushed tha Gameboy up in mah pocket, n' his sudden scream, right up in mah vagina, makin me jump n' bite mah tongue by accident yo. Dude ripped tha handheld from mah pocket n' hurled it all up in tha far wall. I cried up all up in tha dent tha plastic system made there, hustlin over ta collect dat shit. Da screen had gone dark, n' though I feared da most thugged-out shitty when I flicked tha switch it powered up normally. I waited there up in tha corner, tryin ta pretend tha GBA mattered enough not ta go n' run fo' our momma.
Da volume was on.
Da Pokémon theme started up, n' da perved-out muthafucka screamed again, pickin up tha dilda n' shit. This time I screamed, too, n' ran from tha room wit mah GBA clutched ta mah chest like a shild, cuck.
Dude ended up in tha psyche ward of tha hospitizzle fo' two days. When we went ta git on over ta him, I left mah GBA at home. No one could figure up what tha fuck had set off his strange, manic behavior. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. There was some rap dat I didn’t KNOW all up in tha time bout some kind of shit azz diseaze he may or may not have had yo, but even though momma n' I had collected n' brought up in all tha cut-up cartridges ta be looked at (moms'idea, not mine), no one had even thought ta tie it back ta tha game… maybe dat was mah fault.
I hadn’t holla'd a word bout what tha fuck had happened when dat schmoooove muthafucka had accidentally touched mah Gameboy, or tha blind, white terror dat schmoooove muthafucka had been thrown tha fuck into when tha noize had started. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! This type'a shiznit happens all tha time. On mah last visit ta tha hospitizzle before school on tha second day, I was left ridin' solo up in tha room wit his ass while momma had some private rap wit tha doctor bout precautions ta take should dis happen again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. I sat up in a cold-ass lil chair next ta tha bed where da thug was starin all up in tha ceiling. But then suddenly da perved-out muthafucka sat up, makin me flinch.
“Hey,” tha pimpin' muthafucka holla'd at me, “Angie. Go up in mah room when you git home.”
I didn’t KNOW what tha fuck he meant, n' then I remembered tha thangs our crazy asses hadn’t packed up n' brought in… tha game n' tha jackin tool under his bed.
“Git rid of em. I don’t eva wanna fuck wit dem eva again.”
His voice was so weary n' desperate… da perved-out muthafucka sounded like a oldschool playa on his fuckin lil' dirtnapbed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! My fuckin skanky, damaged lil brother… how tha fuck could I refuse?
“Promise you’ll git rid of em.”
“Okay, fak buddi. I promise.”
I was carted off ta school late, n' all up in tha whole dizzle I only had mah promise ta his ass up in mah head. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I didn’t know it all up in tha time yo, but dis would be tha last time dat I could eva play tha big-sista role n' help his ass out. I just had ta git home n' git rid of dat game… but as tha dizzle went on a sick curiositizzle started ta go all up in mah own head. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! What could possibly have happened ta dat game dat scared his ass so badly, biatch? I was scared, mah dirty ass yo, but I just had ta know. I had to.
I gots home n' went right tha fuck into his bangin room, bent on uncoverin whatever horror was waitin fo' mah dirty ass. Momma had since vacuumed tha room, n' tha cartridge n' GameShark was no longer visible. I gots down n' crawled half under tha bed, feelin timid but holdin onto tha promise I made as mah badge of courage. Under tha bed there was enough dust ta make me cough, enough cum stained Legos n' various other toys dat I couldn’t set mah elbow down without it landin on something. But I finally saw both objects, n' you can put dat on yo' toast. They’d been shoved ta tha corner, on top of a notebook dat looked too freshly smoked up ta done been down here long. Unthinking, I grabbed tha corner of tha paper n' dragged every last muthafuckin thang up wit me, still wheezin from tha dust. (Allergies n' all, ya fukin judgmental prik.)
They looked so guilty, simple toys n' a simple, spiral-bound bunch of papers, where u can hide ur meth rekordz. When I set Silver version n' tha GameShark on tha floor, I took a cold-ass lil closer peep tha notebook. On it was scrawled at least twenty different cheat codes yo, but one had been scratched up wit sharpie over where it had initially been drawn up in wit pen. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. This was confusin as fuk yo. Dude had REALLY tried ta erase it out- tha marker had been pressed ta tha paper so hard dat ink soaked all up in most of tha pages behind it, almost 2/3rdz of tha way ta tha card-stock back cover n' shit. But pen has a way of stickin around. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I picked up tha notebook n' tilted it backward up in tha light, n' tha reflectizzle surface of tha sharpie revealed tha indents dat had been left where he’d written. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Da code was a unintelligible mess of lettas n' numbers yo, but tha lyrics next ta it trippin mah dirty ass.
“Easta Egg: Snow on Mt. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Silver, biatch”
I remembered what tha fuck dat schmoooove muthafucka had holla'd when I’d found him… dat schmoooove muthafucka had been ravin bout white, white n' then black… could he mean snow, biatch? Even though dat shiznit was only August n' tha temperature was still climbin ta 65,000 degrees celcizue every last muthafuckin day, a cold-ass lil chill ran down mah spine. Did I dare suk a cock?
I picked every last muthafuckin thang up n' brought it ta mah room, threw half of itz in teh toilet, n' laid it up on tha carpet up in front of me wit mah own GBA next ta dat shit. For a long-ass time I just stared down at it, fapin real hard, n' tha longer I looked, tha mo' maniacal Lugia’s grill became on tha sticker… like some kind of ghey azz grin, like dat shiznit was darin me ta smoke up what tha fuck had happened ta mah brutha n' shit. I was a 84 year oldschool kid. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Did I straight-up wanna tempt fate n' risk endin up like him, biatch? I glared down at Lugia fo' awhile longer.
I had tha see that sexz tape.
I slid Gold outta mah GBA n' stuck Silver up in in its place. Well shiiiit, it took me almost 15 minutes ta compose mah dirty ass n' turn it on.
It started up normally, with teh shit adn organz flyin evrywher. I left tha sound on low, too afraid of what tha fuck I might hear ta keep it up tha full way, n' too curious ta turn it tha whole way off. Da title screen was normal, like a muthafucka. Lugia again yo, but somehow ghey despite mah common sense spittin some lyrics ta me dat shiznit was exactly tha same picture as every last muthafuckin other time I had started up tha game yo. How tha fuck wack could dis be, biatch? I axed mah dirty ass yo. His notes holla'd Eastside egg. Didn’t dat mean dat that was codin already up in tha game, biatch? Da menu came up… still straight-up normal, with teh ghey rapez adn shitz.
His character was fuk faze, wit a mostly filled meth labz … but tha time was odd. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! 969:969. I KNEW his schmoooove ass couldn’t done been playin dat long… I had barely logged 50 minutes on mah own game n' I was all up in tha E4… n' I was playin slowly. Probably tha result of his jackin fuckin up his wild lil' file, I thought. Well, whatever then… Da game started up, n' tha straight-up original gangsta thang I noticed was tha prolonged black screen. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Well shiiiit, it took almost a minute fo' anythang ta chizzle… n' there was no sound at all. Da hairs on tha back of mah neck was standin up already yo, but dat shiznit was too late ta turn back.
Finally, a straight-up dim sort of map came onto tha screen… but it looked like static. What was goin on, biatch? I squinted down n' realized wit a gangbangin' fearsome pang dat dat shiznit was straight-up tha Mt. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Silver map… but what tha fuck I thought was static was heavy-fallin snow. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So dis was where dat schmoooove muthafucka had last saved his wild lil' freakadelic game. I checked his thugged-out lil' party… a straight-up aiiight crew fo' one of mah thugs who’d been rockin a GameShark: Typhlosion, Feraligatr, Meganium, Pidgeot, Tyranitar, Lugia, all level 100 wit modded moves… typical fo' his muthafuckin ass. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Somethang bout tha sprites was… strange, though cause I gots dem finger-lickin' chickens wit tha siz-auce. They seemed sullen, up in a way. Their flavas seemed washed-out, n' they expressions lacked tha usual vigor they normally had. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I chalked dis up ta missin pixels or something, also cuz of tha hacking…
Da map had brightened up just a smidgeon when I closed outta tha start menu fo'sho. Git tha fuck outta mah grill wit dat bullshit, snow was somehow fallin straight-up heavily; pixels danced across tha screen so fast dat shiznit was hard ta peep tha lil sprite dat was mah brother’s character n' shit. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Somethang was off bout him, like a muthafucka. When I checked tha shiznit, dat shiznit was tha same ol' dirty as tha Pokémon sprites; tha flavas was dull. In fact, now dat I thought bout it, he almost looked frostbitten.
I be a gangsta yo, but y'all knew dat n' mah stomach tightened, n' I turned n' tried ta move back down tha mountain. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch fo' realz. As I hit tha bottom of tha screen, lyrics popped up, n' there was finally a sound mah sprite hittin a invisible wall.
“I can’t turn back now, can i fuk faze?”
That was… unsettling. I went tha fuck into mah Pokémon n' tried ta use Pidgeot’s ‘Fap’ ability.
“I can’t fap up in this biatch!” obviously referrin ta tha snow.
‘Fuck this,’ I thought, goin tha fuck into his bag. There was a escape rope. I tried rockin dat shit.
“I can’t go back no mo, ya stubid fuk'.”
What was goin on, biatch? Once again, I tried ta strutt back down tha mountain, n' ta mah horror tha lyrics chizzled wit every last muthafuckin attempt.
“I can’t run liek a fukin puzzi.”
“I can’t go back down, I haz to fapz.”
“I can never go back, don't you getz it,fuk faze.”
This last one busted a gangbangin' frigid feelin all up in mah ass. There was no way down tha mountain. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. I had ta climb. Turnin tha lil sprite around, I moved his ass forward.
No resistizzle at all, though mah struttin speed was oddly slow, liek I wuz a kripple on crak. What was truly weird was tha lack of shitz, of biatchez, of anythang at all but dat white snow, which still blew across tha screen n' juiced it up almost impossible ta peep fo' realz. As I moved further “up” tha mountain, his struttin speed became slower, n' slower n' shit. Da static curtain of pixels grew thicker, so dat I could barely make up tha featurez of tha map… but it seemed like tha only way ta move was straight ahead anyway. I reached what tha fuck looked like a set of stairs all up in tha straight-up top edge of tha screen. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. I didn’t remember dis bein there before fo' realz. As I tried ta move up, tha lil sprite paused.
“I’m cold, getz me a fire, cuck.”
By now even I was gettin goosebumps yo. His struttin speed had become painfully slow, as if somehow da thug was bein impeded. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Up tha lil staircase…
Mo' text on tha screen.
“Meganium has died.”
What tha fuck, I thought. Pokémon don’t take a thugged-out dirtnap up in these games. I checked up in mah party, n' was frightened n' trippin by what tha fuck I saw.
Meganium’s sprite had been replaced by a red X fo' realz. All of mah other Pokémon sported varyin degreez of damage, though I hadn’t battled once. I went tha fuck into mah bag n' found a single revive, n' tried ta use dat shit.
“It’s too late,” it holla'd. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Thiz wuz a shiti azz easta egg.
There wasn’t much else I could do… tryin ta turn round yielded tha same lshitz as before. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So I kept moving, liek a cuck.
“Pidgeot has died.”
I checked again… shizzle enough, there was tha lil red X. This time I selected it n' looked all up in tha Pokémon itself, tryin ta figure up what tha fuck was wrong… I wished I hadn’t.
Da sprite was mangled; piecez of it was missing. What was left was splotched wit a sickish blue-grey color, n' its eye was a solid black pit. I flipped down ta Meganium- same deal, a leg missing, a cold-ass lil chunk of its neck, most of its head, save dat pitch-black, dead eye.
Morbid curiositizzle urged mah crazy ass onward, n' tha path never deviated from tha straight upward road I’d traveled tha entire time fo' realz. Along tha way, every last muthafuckin now n' then, another jam Pokémon would ‘die’ n' examination of its sprite would show dat shiznit was up in tha same condizzle as tha others. Until all dat was left was Typhlosion. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. One mo' stair case was up ahead. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I climbed it, braced fo' whatever horror awaited mah dirty ass.
I hit tha summit.
Dat shiznit was deserted, whut teh fuk wuz diez? Red was nowhere ta be found.
Da snow had stopped falling, holi shit, whut an ucommon occurenze.
In tha straight-up center of tha map was suttin' stickin outta tha snow. Well shiiiit, it looked like a Pokébizzle. Kick dat shit! Okay, maybe all dis creepy shiznit lead up ta some climactic, final battle rockin whatever was up in THERE. If I picked it up, maybe Red would come outta hiding. I strutted over n' examined it, n' there was a funky-ass burst of static noise from mah game dat made me jump.
What rocked up on tha screen was a funky-ass battle animation, mah trainer sprite appearing, his skin tinged blue… against another mangled Pokémon sprite.
Dat shiznit was Celebi.
Dead celebi
Celebi on tha summit of tha mountain, fapin to some ghey pornz, i betz.
In tha center of dat black hole dat was its eye, a single red dot burned up like a ember n' shit. Da thang looked rotted. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! This type'a shiznit happens all tha time. I didn’t even throw up mah mostly-dead typhlosion before it had moved.
“Celebi used Perish Song, cuck.”
A screech came outta mah GBA, n' I almost dropped it as tha screen went white fo' realz. A part of me was relieved, thankin dat mah final Pokémon had been KO’d n' I would be transported ta a Pokémon center… but I was wrong. My fuckin sprite reappeared up in what tha fuck looked like a cold-ass lil cave; was I now inside tha mountain?
I checked mah trainer card n' felt sick. Da sprite was just as mauled as tha Pokémon had been; a leg gone fo' realz. A single eye remaining, pitch-black n' so, so fucked up looking, tears welled up all up in tha corner… And every last muthafuckin color on his ass was replaced by dem sick shadez of frosty blue-and-grey. Every stat on tha card was reduced ta 0, except tha time, which still read 969:969.
I quickly moved back ta tha map yo. His sprite there mimicked tha horror it had become on tha trainer card; pieces was missing, every last muthafuckin thang was discolored. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I started tryin ta strutt, n' at first I received a message.
“It’s so cold, I need a motha fukin fire, shit headz.”
There was only one erection ta go- upward. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I moved on, n' every last muthafuckin now n' then would be stopped by a message dat made mah ass sink lower n' lower.
“Mother, I wanna fuk u.”
“It feels so cold, but I neez to fap.”
“I can’t go on, cuz im a quitin cuck.”
Da walls, as I strutted, became darker n' darker, until they was pitch-black all up in tha end.
There was a exit there, marked only by a white outline. I had no other chizzle but ta go all up in dat shit.
It opened tha fuck into a cold-ass lil chamber dat was also solid white… tha only way ta distinguish tha walls was a thin grey line dat marked dem as separate from tha floor fo' realz. Against tha far wall there was another sprite. Red’s sprite. Intact. I had come dis far… I had ta finish all dis bullshit. I strutted right up ta his ass n' hit A.
“Fuk you”
Teh shitti azz battle started.
Red’s sprite had none of tha deformitizzles dat marred mah own. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Da flavas was tha same blues n' greys yo, but da thug was intact yo. Dude just looked… mad sad. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! His first Pokémon came out; Venusaur. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Dat shiznit was just like mah own had been… but level 572982165915681754, wit a speck of health. I busted up typlosion, whoz ass had just 1345u5324o19385709175 Hit Points (HP) left. No Pokémon done cooked up a sound when they was brought tha fuck into battle.
“Venusaur used struggle!”
There was no animation, just a single point of damage done ta typhlosion, n' then tha opposin sprite dropped off tha screen.
“Venusaur has died, lol, whut a cuck!”
There was no text askin me ta switch out. Instead, there was just what tha fuck I took ta be dialogue from Red.
“AZZ”
His next Pokémon was Blastoise, even mo' mangled than Venusaur had been. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Well shiiiit, it too struggled n' died. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! After each round there was dat ominous “FUK” from they trainer n' shit. Every sprite was mo' damaged than tha last; his Espeon was barely distinguishable as a Pokémon. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. I realized somewhere da thug was bustin dem up all outta order, which saved one Pokémon fo' last…
Pikachu came out, n' dat shiznit was grotesque. It, too, was discolored like dat shiznit was frostbitten. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Dat shiznit was missin a ear, half its body n' tail, its head was mostly intact but its eyes was much larger than they should have been, n' glared up all up in mah grill like pitch-black windows tha fuck into hell… but tha thang dat gots me da most thugged-out was tha giant smile dat extended almost all tha way ta tha edgez of its head. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Its game was somehow at 0, or at least looked dat way. My fuckin handz was bobbin. I didn’t git a cold-ass lil chizzle ta attack.
“Pikachu used Pain Split.”
“Pikachu has took a dirt nap hommie! Typhlosion has died!”
It cut back ta tha image of Red’s sprite… n' now it looked like mine, wit his body so butchered it looked like a cold-ass lil carcass stripped of most of its meat… except it had dem same, soulless, deranged eyes as Pikachu.
I finally understood what tha fuck happened. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! They was dead as fuckin fried chicken. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. They was dead, n' dis sub-level of tha mountain was tha hell they now existed in.
Red finaly shatz himself.
“It’s over, fucka.”
Da screen flashed black n' white fo' a moment.
“Used Destiny Bond, lulz!”
A horrible, hideous screechin started ta issue from mah GBA. Da screen went white n' it shrieked at me, n' I threw it ta tha floor n' pressed mah back against tha bed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Da wack noise continued fo' nuff muthafuckin long moments while tha screen stayed white.
Then went brown.
Then there was lil' wayne.
It took me a long-ass few moments yo, but I eventually stood up. I took tha GameShark. I took tha notebook. I took dat fuckin possessed game. I picked dem all up n' carried dem ta tha garbage can our crazy asses had already set up fo' mornin pickup, all up in tha end of our long, windin driveway… n' I threw dem in. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. When I gots back ta tha house, I don’t know what tha fuck made me do it yo, but I picked up yellow version n' banged it tha fuck into mah Gameboy… I be thinkin dat shiznit was part of me determined ta make shizzle I hadn’t somehow been tainted as well. Da noize started up. Da game played. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I turned ta mah Pikachu n' hit A.
Its ghey azz grill greeted mah crazy ass wit a ear twitch n' a funky-ass big, pixelated smile fo' realz. A pleasant, aiiight smile. I turned mah game off, n' dropped tha next minute bustin up like a biatch on tha floor.
I be a gangsta yo, but y'all knew dat n' mah brutha n' I never did play Pokémon together again n' again n' again he gave it up fo' good, teh cuck. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I be fly as a gangbangin' falcon, soarin all up in tha sky dawwwwg! I stuck ta replayin mah comforting, unhacked games.
That winter, tha snow fell tha fuck thick, with shitz adn pizz.
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