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The Pocket Monster Diaries, Part 13

Dear PokeDiary,

I woke up on a couch.

I appeared to be in someone’s living room, by myself as far as I could tell. I tried to remember the events that led to me crashing on a sofa, but my recollection of last night was like a sloppy oil painting. Which was odd, because I’m not even close to the legal drinking age, but on the other hand, I did stay up way past my bedtime. There had been a big party, and a lot of food, for both me and my Pokemon, but after that…nothing. I sat up groggily, patting down my jeans and trainer’s jacket to make sure all of my belongings were still there. My Pokeballs were empty. A flash of panic: Could I have underestimated those idiots…?

Then I spotted Mr. Suds. He was curled up at the bottom of a large fish tank, bubbles rising lazily to the surface from the corner of his mouth. I shuffled across the carpet, still half asleep, and rapped on the glass.

“Hey! Rise and shine. We’ve got to get going.” He stretched and yawned, sending forth a cascade of bubbles, then stood up gingerly and poked his head out of the water. He regarded me with half-lidded eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I’m sure it’s real comfortable in there, but unless you want to eat fish food for the rest of your life, we’re going to have to leave eventually. And take off those ridiculous-” Oh yeah! He had ears now. “Uh, never mind, actually. Let’s go find your teammates.”

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