(I don't know why I keep continuing with this series. Honest to God, I don't.)

Because this author knows nothing about the recent generation of Pokémon games, he will continue to compose brief, twisted and predictable stories about Ash, Misty and Brock. As a change of scenery, the three were walking through a dark and gloomy forest. The fact that it was getting darker increased the feeling of darkness and gloominess. It's like the beginning of some sort of old school horror film.

"I hate my life. Somebody please shoot me," commented Ash. "I am so sick of being this author's experiments of torture. First we get trampled by angry parents, blown up in an old, run-down building, poisoned by what I thought was pie--"

"And we're still alive!" interrupted Misty. "If anything, you should be amazed by that fact alone above all else!"

"Can somebody please explain to me why we're in some dark, gloomy forest?" asked Brock.

"Because the author's a sadistic bastard who has far too much time on his hands," responded Ash.

"You seem down, Ash," said Misty. "What's wrong?"

"Are you kidding me?" muttered Ash. "Seriously, Misty, are you joking?"

"No, I'm not. I've never seen you so depressed."

"This is really bad, Ash, I'm worried," added Brock.

"Okay, the fact that you're not disturbed by the author doing whatever he pleases to us really, REALLY bothers me. It's like some form of rape!"

"Don't think so much, Ash; you'll hurt yourself," said Misty, patting Ash on the shoulder.

"I hate you. I hate you all."

As if it was on cue, dramatic violins cued in the background, along with sinister laughter that the three trainers knew all too well.

"God hates me," muttered Ash.

"Prepare for trouble!" shouted Jessie, hanging from a limb from a nearby tree.

"Make it a double-double, I need caffeine," added a voice which displayed a heavy amount of fatigue, as right next to Ash dropped James, twitching and nearly unconscious. "Coff...ee..."

At that moment, the music stopped as Jessie leapt down from the tree branch, exasperated.

"Cripes, James! All I asked for you to do was to stay awake and you can't even do that!"

"What happened to HIM?" asked Brock.

"Hey, I have a completely fantastic idea!" shouted Ash. "While they're busy being distracted by James' obvious lack of energy, why don't WE take a DETOUR around these jack-asses and lose them!"

"We can't leave them yet, Ash. We have to send them into the sky or else they'll never leave us alone for the rest of the episode," added Brock.

"Who cares! The author is probably going to have some sort of nuclear weapon drop on us any second, cause decades of nuclear winter, and have the rays of the burning hot sun fry the planet when everything clears up! Can we just go before they recover!"

"This author is seriously lacking in new ideas," added Misty. "He has the main character, possibly one of the stupidest ever in existence, acting like an emo, sarcastic university student."

"We're back!" shouted Jessie, finally managing to pull James to his feet. "Now, to steal your Pikachu! We have a fool-proof plan this time! Although I always wondered why our other plans never worked initially."

"Because you're retards," replied Ash.

"I beg your pardon?" asked Jessie, surprised at such a blunt remark.

"I said you're retards, you filthy old hag!"

Oh dear. Ash really had to go there, didn't he? Jessie charged him like a rabid bull (although she resembles everything that has gone wrong with humanity, physically. Scientists who are trying to prove the evolution theory true, here's a prime living example). Because the author is very lazy and doesn't want to go into deep description of what's happening, everyone in the scene gathered together and started hurling fists and legs at one another. So much commotion caused a large cloud of dust, in a cartoony fashion, to engulf those involved in the scrap.

Ladies and gentlemen, violence DOES solve problems. Why? Because all of those involved have beaten themselves unconscious. I'm sure once they've awoken from their comas, they'll probably laugh it off and forget all about it, although I'm sure it'll be because of temporary amnesia.

See, kids? If you beat yourself senseless, you'll forget everything that happened and won't hold a grudge towards your wrongdoer. The moral of the story? Drop the gloves.

Another moral of the story? Keep authors with too much time on their hands away from writing fan fiction. Particularly a continuous series of bad fan fiction ideas. Because then he'll feel obligated to post a new chapter once in a while just to surprise and disgust readers everywhere.

Ladies and gentlemen, it's the author that represents everything wrong in the world today. Sit back, crack open a beer (or pour yourself a martini, whatever floats your boat) and watch humanity go down the road to destruction! Because the world's going to ruins, and I'm driving the bus.

Who's "I'm" in that last sentence? The narrator, or the author? I'll guess you'll have to tune in next time to find out! If there will be a next time, that is!

DUN DUN DUN!

Okay, I'm done for real, this time.

THE END!