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It was a late night at the Outskirt Stand, an old steam train turned diner and bar. The train had long since stopped, as there were no longer any tracks for it to run upon. It was just stranded in the desert, much like the S. S. Tidal, which had since been converted into a hotel. It was a normal night at the Stand, with the few people who always hung around at night finishing off their drinks and sitting around at their tables. There was always the odd one or two who walked into the Stand this late at night. What was especially odd about this one was that she was 12 years old and had blue hair.

The girl went up to the bar and sat down. She looked especially downcast as she gave her order to the bar's owner. "Hey, barkeep. Could you please get me a root beer?"

The man turned and looked to her. "Say, you're a new face around here. What's your name?"

"Jovi." said the girl, staring down at the table as the man poured her a drink.

"Here ya go, kid."

Jovi sat in solitude after chugging down the soda. Eventually the bartender noticed that her glass was empty. "D'ya want some more, kiddo?"

"No, thanks, I-I-I'll-"

"It's on the house. Just for you. You deserve it." When within little time, Jovi had downed a large amount of root beer, the proprietor began to worry. He sat down across from her on his end of the bar.

"Hey kid, you okay?"

Jovi sighed and asked:

"What's it to you?"

"Look. I know something's up. I haven't seen anybody here drink that much since about a year ago."

"What happened?"

The bartender sighed as he recounted the boy who came in the year before. "The boy's name was Wes. Up to this point, every time I saw him but one, he brought along this girl. Her name was Rui. Now they were an item, these two. I ain't never seen 'em apart after the day they met. Then this time it was different. I saw Wes trudgin' through that door not unlike you yourself, and he came up to the bar n' asked me for a beer. He took a drink, then he asked me if he could tell me a story shortly before payin' for some more booze."

The barkeep had Jovi's attention. She looked up and asked:

"What happened then?"

"Well, after he had another drink, he told us his story. Supposedly, after makin' it big for stoppin' all them Shadow Pokémon, his life just plain went to Hades from there. He just swigged down glass after glass as he told us about Team Snagem and about how Rui got killed by Cipher and all them things like that, all while tryin' to drown his sorrows and his liver just the same. And when he was done, he paid the tab and just left. The next thing I heard was an engine roaring as he drove off into the distance. And that's the last I heard of him. What's your story, kid?"

Jovi put down her glass. "Okay, but before we start, are you familiar with The Residents?" The bartender racked his brain.

"Let's see... Four guys... who wear tuxedos... and top hats..."

Jovi got more excited as the man began recalling the details.

"...And giant eyeballs... on their heads. And one of them wears a big plastic skull, right?"

Jovi's jaw dropped. "Oh my god! You know about The Residents! Someone other than me knows about The Residents!"

"You get all sorts of people here." said the bartender. "Every once in a while, somebody comes by and hands me a CD to play in the jukebox. And that's how I learned about those guys. Hey, Willie!" He threw a coin to one of the regulars.

"Put that in the machine and play the girl D-4 for me, why don't ya!" The man went up to the machine, inserted the coin, and pressed two buttons on the machine. A tune played on the jukebox that not even the regulars had heard, but was all too familiar to Jovi and the barkeep.

Life would be wonderful,
Life would be wonderful.

If I was a little taller,
It I wasn't quite so old,
If my raincoat had a collar
to help me keep away the cold.

Life would be wonderful,
Life would be wonderful.

"Thanks. I needed that." replied Jovi."You know all those films about the Bunny Boy they started making?" The bartender nodded.

"Those films by the guy in the secret room? Yeah, I've been watchin' em from day one."

"Well, about twenty or thirty films into it, the Bunny Boy starts going into detail about the differences between him and his brother. At some point, he even fishes out two paintings of clowns. His brother is the happy clown, and he's the sad clown. I always saw myself as the sad clown. My brother was always given the star treatment. He had a legend, he had a title, he even got a girlfriend. He fell in love with some Equin chick he met over at Phenac and it was happily ever after from then on. Me, I was always bullied at school because I wasn't like all the others. My life is a wreck. I'm starting to regret this whole journey thing."

"Journey?"

"Well, it all started when I decided to take a trip through Orre of my own. I packed all my things and got myself ready, and I was on my way for greener pastures..."




"I headed out to old Kaminko's place first. Of course, Chobin, the guy's hapless lab assistant, is as blind as a bat, even with the glasses on. I wonder if he's got them on backwards or something, cause he came in wearing what looked like a giant robot suit that was armed to the teeth. Clearly compensating for something. And this time he was sure I was a thief. He was bent on destruction and the only way I could stop him was by trying hard enough not to evaporate to hit the 'do not push' button. Why Kaminko put one on there I'll never know.

After getting through the security, I stopped to talk with the doc. Did you know that until I was about 8, I was a natural brunette?"

"Really?" said the bartender. "That hair color's natural?"

"Yep." said Jovi. "I chugged down a chemical at the doc's lab. I thought it was grape soda. Within about a week, I noticed that my hair was blue at the roots. Hoo, boy was mom angry. She tanned old man Kaminko's hide like there was no tomorrow. She had a total fit about the hair. It was like that old kid's book where that girl sprouts a huge pair of horns."

"Immogene's Antlers?"

"Yeah. How do you know about it, barkeep?"

"A little boy came here a while back." said the barkeep. "He hitched a ride with a trucker. The boy just ran up to me and sobbed somethin' about an orphanage. The trucker came in and said the kid told him to that he want to go to the big choo-choo train in the sand and that he wanted to stay. He had some things that he said the kid brought with him. One of those things was that book. That was the last I heard of the trucker. He just set the boy's stuff down and walked out. Then I heard an engine roar, and away he went, just like the rest."

"What about the boy?" asked Jovi.

"Remind me about that story later."said the bartender. "For now, let's hear yours."

"Oh, yeah." said Jovi. "As I said earlier, Mom completely and totally flipped. She tried everything shy of feeding me more chemicals.

Personally, I was okay. I always wanted blue hair that wouldn't wash off in the shower. Only after enough of Mom's pals told her that I was fine with it and the hospital told her that I wasn't gonna die for the twentieth time did Mom quit making chicken noises and decide she was okay with it. Anyway, back to the trip. I spoke with Kaminko. He was pretty surprised that Chobin's battle suit fell apart. I told him that Chobin tried to use it to bump me off and that next time, he shouldn't install a button that shouldn't be pushed. That's Dr. Kaminko for you- always throwing a wrench in his own works."

"So that's why my fridge-"

"Yep. Look for a motion sensor on the fridge, then try putting tape over the motion sensor. That's how I tricked Mom's fridge into working.

Anyway, I checked out his plans. I don't remember what they were for, and I don't even think they were in English, but boy, did whatever it was look unwieldy. Then I went down to business.

I told him I left a few documents on the top floor of his back room, and that Blue-Haired Beaker over in front of the building had been scribbling all over them. I wanted to pick 'em up in case he went overboard. I swear, even after putting it in the hard place to look, you would think he would give up after a while."

"Trust me," said the bartender. "after seeing enough fake IDs, and some pretty complicated costumes, I'd know about just not giving up. Two kids even posed as one really big guy, just like those four from Little Rascals."

Jovi bust out laughing. "Really. People do that?"

"Ain't kiddin'." said the man. They almost had me, up to the point where the one on top started pourin' his beer down his trench coat."

"Truth is stranger than fiction." replied Jovi. "Hey, could you please pour me some more root beer?"

"Of course, kid. Here." The barkeep poured her another glass.

"Thanks. Anyway, I was able to stay clear of everything long enough to get my stuff, a major achievement, judging by the kind of things he keeps up there. He needs a maid, big time. And a maid who's tough to scare at that."

"Yeah." said the barkeep. "I'm bettin' your average maid would run away hollerin' 'Satan lives here!' like the one that guy from Nirvana hired.

"You know the doc?"

"He came here for a drink once. He carried a bunch of vials full of who knows what, but it can't have been healthy, 'cause the fumes caused one of the gals who was there to go bald before her scalp turned orange. Thankfully, it was only temporary. Another guy was there, too. Kaminko sat down next to him and his facial hair just plain lit up like ol' Richard Pryor."

"Richard Pryor?"

"You'll learn about him when you get older. Anyway, I haven't let the doc near this place since."

"I don't blame you. I swear, he's insane. Mom's never really forgiven him over the hair incident. Anyway, I got all the documents, which Chobin had scribbled all over, and I was off. I needed a bike to get everywhere, so I went off to Gateon Port.

The place is pretty huge, but then, it has to be, right? It's a port town. Things have to get from point A to there and from there to point B on a regular basis. I was tempted to hop on a speedboat that looked like a small Kyogre, why it's still there is beyond me, but then I remembered that it came from Kaminko Labs and would probably explode the instant I got in the seat. I swear, with the loose quality control they've got over there, I'm surprised my brother lived to see Citadark.

Anyway, I decided I'd stop by the parts shop after taking a break at the old Club Krabby."

"Club Krabby, huh? I used to be a soda jerk for that place. It was pretty lively, but it was a real nightmare when the sailors got themselves hammered. Let's just say that one of the employees got a plate smashed over his head for singin' What Do You Do With A Drunken Sailor at the wrong time."

Jovi snickered, then began singing:

"Dump him in the ocean until he's sorry,
Dump him in the ocean until he's sorry,
Dump him in the ocean until he's sorry
Ear-ly in the mor-ning.

I had to do that for school once." She replied. "Not a good thing when there's actually a drunk sailor in the audience. They're still nagging him over the repairs to the auditorium."

"I think I know who you're talking about." said the bartender. "We had the guy over here once. They still haven't found all the glass he broke, and he never did pay his tab."

"Wow." said Jovi. "And I think Kaminko's gone loony-cuckoo-head... Anyway, I went on over to Club Krabby before goin' to the bike shop..."




"Man, was the place packed!" said Jovi. "But then again, somebody was footing the bill for everyone. Not that Greevil moron or somebody like that, but whoever it was, he was waving the cash-loaf whenever somebody wanted a purchase. Not to mention the fact that the attraction was entirely different. They usually have these magicians and this guy who never truly left the 70's."

"You mean Miror B?" asked the bartender.

"Oh, that's his name." replied Jovi.

"I know the guy. He just wouldn't quit harassin' one of the customers. What's worse, he packed a feral Nosepass he just wouldn't curb. And have you seen his hair? He could probably survive off that thing for a month if all those hair products he spends his disposable income on didn't poison him."

Jovi couldn't help smiling. "Yeah, that's him, all right. Anyway, this time, they had this group of dancers called the Kimono Girls or something like that. There was also a breakdancer for some reason. The gal couldn't have been older than I am, and she was going at full speed. It was hard to see the gal at points. And they had some real good music, too. None of that horrifying pop music or anything like that."

"Talk of the pot calling the kettle black!" shouted one a man whose blood alcohol level had to be roughly one tenth of his age.

"What are you talking about?" replied Jovi.

"Look," said the man. "By the mere virtue that you got Willie to play your song without wincing-"

"Look," said Jovi. "That wasn't me, that was the bartender. He knew I was down, so he put some music on to help. He's a fan too-"

"The barkeep likes that kind of thing? What's this world-"

Willie stood up. "Shut up," shouted Willie while pointing at the bartender. "or he cranks the volume and I play something worth listening!"

"You ain't got the guts!" replied the man. Willie was glaring. "I'd like to see you try. I'd like to see you go up there and actually-AAAAAAAGH!"

A horrifying noise filled the air, one akin to an enormous malfunctioning copier trying to print on, staple, hole-punch, and collate several of its own critical components. The man who called Jovi a hypocrite was now doubled over and screaming in pain. Willie hollered something to Jovi, over all the noise:

"MERZBOW! WORKS EVERY TIME!"

Jovi walked up to Willie and gave him a high-five.

"IT'S USUALLY ONLY FOR RIOT CONTROL PURPOSES, BUT I FELT THAT IT WAS FIT FOR THE OCCASION!" he continued.

Jovi walked backed over to the bar, got out some money and hollered:

"BARTENDER! GET THIS MAN A BEER!"

"DON'T WORRY ABOUT THAT!" hollered the bartender. "I KNOW WILLIE PERSONALLY! HE ALWAYS GETS HIS DRINKS ON THE HOUSE!"

"THANKS ANYWAY!" hollered Willie!

Eventually, the noise died down, at which point Jovi continued her story.

"I decided after I watched the show, I was going upstairs. The upstairs is a lot less packed, but there's usually something a lot more fun going on up there."

"What do they have nowadays?" asked the bartender.

"Well, they've got a pretty wide assortment of tunes at the karaoke corner. Not only do they have chart-topping radio hits from since the phonograph was born, but they have cult singers by the truckload. They also clear out the bar for a round of Whose Line Is It, Anyway? every once in a while. Apparently, this was one of those times."

Now Willie was interested enough. He got up and sat at the bar next to Jovi. "Hang on. They do Whose Line Is It Anyway? over at Club Krabby? I need to get the motor running a little more often. That show rocks! I've always wanted the shot to be in it!"

"I remember the old episodes." said Jovi. "Those were the best."

Quoting an old episode from the show, Willie replied "This is the serial killer home shopping network, and look at the size of these knives!"

Jovi could not hold back her laughter. "And if you didn't feel like doing anything, they had TV and all manner of video tapes. Surprisingly, not many people watching the TV that day."

"I wouldn't put it past them." said Willie. "I sure wouldn't give up the chance to be on the stage."

"Did you ever get the shot?" asked Jovi.

Willie looked down, depressed.

"Shouldn't talk about that, huh?"

"Yeah, let's not." said Willie.

Jovi, seeking to find a new subject, looked around before noticing a sign which read:

"Bartender will not sell and/or allow others to administrate alcohol to pokémon."

"Hey, barkeep?" asked Jovi.

"Yeah, what's up?" asked the bartender.

"That sign on your wall." said Jovi, pointing to the sign. "Why is it up there?"

"People actually do that." said the bartender. "We used to get strays on a regular basis, and people would always stuff 'em fulla booze. While getting a Meowth all rosy-cheeked is good for a laugh or two, an Alakazam with the spins is not a pretty sight. Eventually, somebody threatened to sue me because their Arcanine had liver trouble."

Jovi was a bit curious about the whole ordeal, and she couldn't help but ask:

"What happened?"

"In what sounds like the setup for an extremely strange joke, a punk rocker, a street performer, and a stray Arcanine walk into a bar." replied the bartender. "Granted, there was already a slew of loaded housepets here that night, so what harm would another do, right? Yeah, right.

They picked the wrong Pokémon to inebriate that day. The next day, somebody threatened to sue me for it. At that point, I started bouncing people who ordered their pets drinks."

"Oh. I see... Strange indeed."

"Well, we do feed the legendaries wine when they stop by, but they don't stop by much." said the bartender, "Anyway, you were at the top floor of Club Krabby, right?"

"Oh, yeah..." said Jovi. "I went a few rounds on Whose Line Is It, Anyway? and put on one of the tapes they had up there. They've got a film version of The Lorax, even."

"I remember that." said Willie. I used to watch it a lot. Those films were really good. I can even remember the tunes.

At the far end of town, where the grickle-grass grows..."

Jovi soon joined in.

"...And the wind is slow and sour when it blows..."

The bartender sang along too, under his breath.

"...And no bird ever sings, excepting old crows
Lies the street of the lifted Lorax,
Grickle-grass, grickle grass, street of the lifted Lorax.
Grickle-grass, grickle grass, somebody lifted the Lorax away..."

Jovi continued speaking. "The tape ended and I left. Not before rewinding, of course."

"Of course." said Willie.

"Hoo, boy was it dark out when I went to buy the bike." said Jovi. " I'm surprised that they were still selling bikes that late. I managed to get my hands on something cheap that wouldn't get stuck in bad terrain."

"What kind did you get?" asked the bartender.

Jovi got down from her barstool and walked out of the Stand and put her hand on what looked like a floating red motorcycle with a wheel in the middle of the underside and a sidecar. "This one."

Willie soon followed and took a good look at the bike. "Ah, yes, a Perr specialty. You got a good choice. I got one from his shop. Only after a long, long time did we have to send it to the scrap heap, and it took 'em several tries to scrap it. I swear, that boy can build."

"It is pretty tough, come to think of it." replied Jovi. All of a sudden, a rock hit the bike and bounced off. Then another. Then three more. Then a fairly large one, which missed, instead almost hitting Jovi and Willie.

Willie had an idea. "I'll handle this." said Willie, under his breath. He walked out over to where he thought the rocks were coming from. A young thug was crouched down and hurling rocks at various vehicles. Willie wanted nothing of it, especially as this kid and several friends spray-painted obscene messages in ridiculously large print on the entire Stand, and this one specifically was a real problem child.

"Hey, kid! Are you the moron whose been throwing rocks at the bikes?"

"Yeah," said the boy. "What's it to you?"

Willie then looked at the motorbikes, singling out the one that showed the most damage. "You see that?"

"Yeah." replied the boy.

"That's my ride you just wrecked. Now you're gonna pay for the damage, or I'm gonna make sure your hospital bill costs twice as much." The boy pulled out a water pistol in response. "I'm not blind, you know. Pay up or all you'll be seeing for a month is your large intestine. The boy let out a very crude remark, to which Willie let out a sigh. "I hate to do this, but it's my last resort." Willie entered the bar, and came out with a red and white pole and slowly approached the boy before crouching down to face him. "I get the money or you get a concussion." The boy could only whimper. "Wait," Willie continued. "There is another option. Leave and don't come back. Ever. And take your idiot friends with you." The boy was off like a rocket. Willie then stood up. "Sometimes, you gotta speak on their terms. That's not my bike, though."

The two returned to the bar, where Jovi continued her story.

"The next day, I decided I was going to go for a ride through the desert..."




"Out on the road, that bike handles pretty good." continued Jovi. "I wound up driving all over the place, but I wasn't alone. Not by a long shot. There was a four-by-four full of drunks cheering, shouting and doing donuts while listening to rock songs about college fratboys, hippie-eating monsters and the like. One of them was even swinging around a bottle of Clorox and swearing. I don't know where they were headed, but I drove back to Gateon and decided to wait a while. As tempting as it is to follow groups of people playing underground music, it's usually not a good idea, as I once learned from a clearly disturbed man who played a song titled All The Children Are Dead on loop on his boombox.

Eventually, I went back on the road again, this time with a purpose. I went over to Pyrite. And guess who I encountered over there."

"Those drunks in the four-by-four?" asked Willie.

Jovi grinned. "That's right, those drunks in the-"

All of a sudden, a loud, nonsensical song filled the parking lot.

Holland is ruled by midgets, the pope owns CBS,
The subway cars have been equipped with bars,
And they're cloning Rudolph Hess!

"Oh, crap." said Jovi. "Hide me!

Samantha Foxx gone frigid, the President's painted green,
Jesus Christ been frozen in ice
But he still makes the scene!

Everybody wants to know what gives
But I know where the tarantula lives

"All right," said the bartender. "You can hide behind the counter, but don't drink nothin' okay?"

"Gotcha." replied Jovi, who then hurriedly rushed behind the counter.

Jim Bakker got eaten by wombats, the fever's spread to town,
Ol' Doris Day's been taken away!
Has anybody seen my downs?

Popeye got killed in combat, Stella and Marie went punk,
B. F. Skinner has eaten my dinner,
There's a body in that trunk!


At that instant, the music stopped, and a group of five potted punks, four males, one female, staggered in angrily. One of the males, a notably portly sort with a botched mokawk stumbled towards the barkeep. Struggling to appear normal, the man asked a question:

"Hey, 'a you seen a girl 'bout yay high," placing his hand at roughly Jovi's height, "wi' blue hair 'n lo'g pigtails?

The bartender recognized this fellow quite well. "Aren't you the guy who was shouting the Milwaukee Seven in the parking lot with a mouth full of detergent?"

The fat punk replied in a manner quite typical of addicts in denial. "I ain' go' no pro'l'm!"

The woman walked forward. "This girl a' which w' speak 'as giv'n us a prom'nent affron' t' our dign'ty. We nee' t' 'mass our veng'nce."


The bartender took a good look at the group and could tell from the start they were questionable sorts. "I cannot trust your account of the story, as your behavior and most likely reasoning have also been altered by the large amounts of alcohol," he replied, directing his speech now towards the fat one, "Or, in your case, cleaning supplies," now turning his attention towards the entire crowd of drunks, "That you have no doubt ingested."

The lady, indeed quite offended that somebody suggested that she had a drinking problem, spoke up. "Now you list'n h're! We wen' out for an, umm... uhhh, a walk! Yeah, a walk, ri', guys?" The other punks nodded their heads. The bartender shook his. The busted broad continued on: "We were ou' for a walk, an' when w' came back, our fourbie was keyed, dented, n' knocked on its side, not t' mention that all the gas was siph'ned out of it and crude imag'y had been spray-pain'd all over it. *hic* Well, this girl, she's the firs t'ing we see there, so in our opini'n, she 'ad to be th' one."

The barkeep, in evident disbelief, tried to reply. "Uhhh-"

A third member of the group, this one packing a pomapdour which, if need be, he could use to commit murder. "Lemm' pu' it in terms you c'n un'erstand. This girl keyed, dented, and siphoned the fuel ou' of our ride b'fore tiltin' it and spray pain'in' a-"

"I get what you're saying, I just don't believe it. There's the fact that you're all drunk, not to mention that I have no clue when this happened."

After a brief pause, the fat one piped up. "Uh, that's b'side the point. This girl wrecked our ride and our dign'ty, and we nee' ta get even! We, uhhh..."

All of a sudden, another blue-haired girl in her early teens with blue hair in pigtails walked into the bar. And, of course, she brought some friends, all wearing kimonos. "Good going, girls! We put on a show tonight!" Her friends all nodded. "Now who wants what?"

"I think we should wait to see what they have." said one of the other girls.

"Good idea, Sayo!" said the girl, who then proceeded to walk through the door. "Set six extra places, we're coming to your place for... dinner?"

It seems that our schnookered crooks noticed the girl, and through the thick, altered-state-of-mind-induced haze, could not tell her from their actual target. The fat one came charging for her, hoisted her in midair and came running out the door. "Let me GO, you bleach-belching TAUROS!" All of a sudden, sirens blared outside the bar. The crowd of punks was soon surrounded by cops.

"Hey, you! Bibarrel boy! Drop the girl and put your hands up! And bring your friends with you! You are all charged with disturbing the peace and driving while intoxicated! You too, fatboy!"

The fat man, at a loss for words, slowly set down the girl and ran several feet before tripping and hitting the sand hard. He and his friends were instantly hauled over into a cop car. The car drove away. At this point, Jovi felt that it was safe to hang up the phone and go on the other side of the bar.

"So, how long have they been holding that grudge?" asked the bartender.

"Quite a while now." Jovi replied, drinking another glass of root beer.



The other blue-haired girl got up, dusted herself off and walked back into the bar, followed closely by her friends. She had the charisma sufficiently rattled out of her after the March Of The Idiots, and now she just wanted a drink. She lumbered their way into the bar.

The bartender recognized the girl and her friends. "Rough day, eh, Kris?"

"Especially after that mishap." Kris's friends sat at a table near the bar, while Kris herself sat next to Jovi. "I'll take the usual. Coke adds life, right?" The bartender chuckled and handed Kris a bottle of Coca-Cola. "Hey, Miki?" One of the girls in kimonos stood up. "You got a quarter, right?" Miki nodded. "Could you please play A-14?" Miki went over to the jukebox, put in a quarter, and pressed a few buttons. A calming song began to play. "Ah, the things you can do with a Sounds Of Nature tape. Thanks, Miki!" Miki nodded. Kris then turned her attention to the girl to her left. "Hey, what's your name?"

Jovi was stunned when she noticed who exactly was right next to her.

"...You're the breakdancer from Club Krabby, aren't you?" Kris grinned. Jovi tried to gather her thoughts.

"And those are the Kimono Girls themselves." Kris replied. Jovi was physically incapable of responding to such a situation After a long pause, Kris came up with a reply to the stunned-cold Jovi. "And you're not dreaming."

After almost fainting dead away, Jovi jumped off the barstool and gave Kris a high-five. She then ran up to the five girls and shook their hands. They each spoke their names:

"Naoko."

"Kuni."

"Sayo."

"Miki."

"Zuki."

They all bowed. Jovi got back onto the barstool.

"My name's Jovi." she replied.

"So, what's someone like you doing someplace like here?" asked Kris.

Jovi looked down, depressed. "I had a really rough time. I'm just here to forget it all."

Kris was a little curious herself. "What happened? You can tell us, you know." Her friends, one by one, came up to the bar. Jovi sighed. "Well, the bartender knows what happened. I left the house and got a bike. After an encounter with a bunch of drunks, I waited a while and drove to Pyrite. The first time I actually got there, I got in trouble. I'll admit, I was a little curious as to what could tilt and damage a four-by-four that badly, and how it got ahold of that much spray-paint, but unfortunately, I didn't know when to leave. Drunk people sure can carry a grudge. I was running all over the town while that team of psychos who, until now, aside from every swear word known to man, knew only the words 'I'm,' 'gonna,' 'kill,' and 'you,' had their hearts and minds set on revenge. They even chased me up a wall. Eventually I gave up, desperately running from place to place, explaining my situation and asking if I could use the residents' cooking utensils. Finally somebody saw this as serious and gave me a frying pan. After I knocked out this bunch of, quite literally, pickled punks, it took a few tries, I was outta there. I didn't care where I was, as long as those idiots weren't there as well.

I drove on over to Agate. Yeah, I'd ever go back to Pyrite again, but the last thing that you ever wanna encounter is a heavy drinker that you've recently knocked out with a cooking implement. A large group of them isn't much better."



"I couldn't have picked a better place to rest. Agate was a welcome relief from Pyrite town. All I can say about Pyrite is: No wonder that's where ONBS is headquartered, all the news goes down there."

"I'd have to agree." recalled Willie. "I remember an incident involving a psychic, a Walrein, a nuclear bomb, and a bag of flour. They had to quarantine the Colosseum for a month."

"Yeah." said Kris. "The girls and I put on a show there once. You could cut the lunacy with a knife. Actually, a chainsaw is more like it. I've yet to see a sane person from the town. All I can say is that they don't underestimate the value of rock and roll. They went nuts when they heard us play AC-DC."

Without skipping a beat, Willie replied: "Well, rock n' roll is rock n' roll, after all."

Kris couldn't help smiling. "You know what, Willie? I like you. You're not like the other people. Here. At the trailer park."

Willie grinned and gave her a high-five.

The barkeep then continued to speak with Jovi while Kris and Willie talked away on such matters as Australia, punk rock, and the incredibly short lives of lead vocalists.

"So, what did you do?"

"I laid down in the fields and fell asleep right then and there. The village is so tranquil, the river running through the town, the plants everywhere, and besides, it was getting dark out. The next thing I knew, I'd been carried into a man named Eagun's place. He told me he thought I was out cold."

"Eagun, huh? Nice guy, that old man. Not much of a drinker, though. But then again, that's a good thing, right?"

Jovi thought for a while. "Yeah. When I told him what happened, he said I was the first in a long time. He hasn't seen anybody do that since he was a kid. Who would have thought..."

"Yeah. I've seen a lot of the good things die off 'cause everyone was 'too cool' for them. Disco music, for example. So it goes..."

"Eagun even offered me a sleeping bag for the trip. I turned it down, though. I mean, it was a nice offer, but there was probably somebody who needed it more. It's not like I was going camping, but still, I thought of Agate as a place to stay."

"But how'd you keep from scaring the people?"

"That's a good question. I hid out in the woods."

"And nobody got scared?"

"Not really. At least I hope not. I spent a while in the cave along the way. It's like a whole new town in there. There were high-schoolers sharing berries they had picked off the trees, there were teen-aged children in swimsuits playing around in the reservoir, teens playing games and telling jokes. There were boys and girls from all walks of life; jesters from Phenac, ex-punks from Pyrite, kids born and raised there, even a nudist."

The bartender's eyes widened a little.

"Everybody accepted everyone for who they were, not what they had. And they didn't have much. They had little more then their own clothing and possibly swimsuits. And in one case, not even that. But they were all honest towards each other. Everyone saw the next as their equal. They didn't keep secrets. And they didn't pass judgment on anyone without reason. They saw me and they acted as though they knew me all along.

There was one kid who wore a bashed-up patchwork which brought to mind a royal fool satirizing a country's leader. He was shouting like the head of a church, hollering about all of the weirdest things. When he spoke, they all turned and listened to him speak of Baobabs, the 'big buffet diner in the sky,' 'our Lord, the Dead Mackerel of Reality,' and the famed 'Extra-Crispy One' that their Lord sought."

The bartender was a little confused: "What's a mackerel?"

Jovi just plain shrugged. "I don't know. Some kind of Buneary?"

"Yeah," said the bartender, after a little thinking. "That makes sense."

"I attended the sermon. I admit, I was kind of put off by the nudist, I mean, she was right next to me, but nobody seemed to mind her. They were all staring at the priest, and he seemed to notice me. He spoke on everything from the creation of the world to the many paradoxes of the Dead Mackerel of Reality."

The bartender smiled. "Did they have a Holy Scripture?" After seeing Jovi's confusion, he decided to expound. "You know, like a Bible or a Qur'an?"

"Oh. They used a book titled The Little Prince. They cited it at various points during the sermon. There was even a communion, done with juice they from berries and sushi made fish the group caught themselves. They spoke in an unusual tongue that they each seemed to understand. Kinda like a combination of Hoennese and mock Seviian mixed with elements from Johto languages. The whole thing was like a tribal festival. After the whole thing had taken place, the priest went into a corner and signaled me over. He asked me about my brother. He seemed to know we were related. Then he switched over to the language they spoke at the communion. I don't know how I did it, but I came up with a response. It just... came to me. Then everyone turned their heads toward me. They all shouted in unison that I was the Extra-Crispy One, the prophet of the Dead Mackerel of Reality. The next thing I knew, the entire group--even the priest--were bowing towards me and shouting 'WE'RE NOT WORTHY!'"

Willie was evidently about to crack a joke at this when Kris reminded him about his manners.

"It's not nice to make fun of other people's religions, Willie." were her exact words.

"Let him do as he may." Jovi replied. "We call it normal, you call it strange. You call it normal, we call it strange. Such is the wisdom of the Dead Mackerel of Reality."

In response, the remainder of the drinkers clapped their hands. One male, about five years older than Jovi, sat in a corner smiling.

"The priest put his cape on me. One of the jesters handed me a staff, and a high-class orphan handed me a crown with a huge star on the forehead. The group waited 'till it was night, then they as a whole lead me to the exit to the Relic Stone. I slowly approached the Stone. As I walked down the stage, the bottom glowed a brighter and brighter green. I went all the way to it, dropped to my knees, bowed my head, and put my hands on the monument. All of a sudden, something came rushing back. I saw the priest, playing with one of the kids from my mom's lab. Then I saw my brother and his pet Eevee. There we were, all four of us, out in front of the lab. Mom called us in and we all went in. All but the priest...

I fell asleep right there in the woods. Finally, I had a place where I felt at home. I just wish I could have stayed...

"What happened?" asked Kris.

"Those drunkards of death came along, sporting headaches that all the Alka-Seltzer in the world wouldn't cure, and they knew what hit 'em. And boy, oh, boy were they angry."

"Makes sense." said the bartender. "I ain't never known a pleasant junkie, and I ain't known nobody who was in a good mood during a headache. And I ain't never lacked the sense to give a junkie a headache..."

Jovi glared at the barkeep.

"...Unless they were out to kill me. Then I didn't hold back. You never hold back when somebody wants you dead, 'cause it's either you or them. Back when I worked at Club Krabby, the seamen-"

A group of drinkers bust out laughing.

"Should I resort to riot control?" asked Willie.

"No," said the bartender. "Those two always wait 'till they're that drunk to leave. Anyway, the boaters did not agree with us when it came to closing time. At about drunk-thirty, we always had at least one barfight per evening."

Jovi looked a little confused until Kris whispered something in her ear:

"2:30 in the morning. It's when all the bars close."

Jovi whispered back:

"How do you know this?

Kris replied:

"I read it in a book."

The barkeep continued on.

"I once had to tear the soda fountain off the bar and bonk people over the head with it. Are you familiar with the game 'Whac-a-Diglett?'"

The people there all raised their hands.

"Then I don't need much in the way of an explanation. Suffice to say that some people had to be hauled out in stretchers."

Jovi continued on."Yikes. Anyway, those punk-rocker wannabes raised one heck of a storm, even if they couldn't see or think straight. Well, one of them saw me, and the first thing they said, loosely translated, was 'My head feels like a bouncy ball, and it's all your fault!' Although they didn't put it quite as nicely. You could tell they were bent on wreckage, and they didn't care what--or who--got destroyed as long as something did. By the time they were done, the place was a wreck. The trees that once looked up towards the heavens were now crashing towards the ground, felled by forces unknown. Woodland creatures ran for their lives. I almost died at least three times.

I ran out of the woods only to discover the damage was worse out there. The cave was a shambles. They had beaten up everyone. The priest and nudist were the most beat-up looking of the bunch. And that's saying a lot. They even spray-painted some of the most disturbing things I had ever seen on the walls... I wanted to vomit when I saw what they had done. But I couldn't. I had to run.

When I reached town, so did the punks. They were completely and totally out of control. They ripped flowers, crops, and all manner of other plants out of the ground. They terrorized everybody there, leaving crude markings all over their homes, abusing their pets... They even went to town on that huge tree outside. They did more damage than a nitro-burning lawnmower, and I figured hiding in the village would only cause everybody more grief.

I had to run off so that they didn't destroy the town, 'cause I could tell they were looking for me. I got on my bike and they tried to chase it. They got as far as half a mile into the desert before they collapsed, but I didn't feel like testing my luck. All the way to Phenac, I kept my foot on the gas like it was stitched into place. Stopping was a minor ordeal, though. As in I thought the motor was going to explode the instant I hit the brake."

"That's not good..." said Willie.

"I should have expected it. I mean, the grip on that bike leaves something to be desired. It only has one wheel, after all. I really shouldn't have tried to come to a complete stop at full speed, but I was desperate. All I was thinking as the rocks, stones, and sand whizzed past my head was that I was about to die. I think the heat was going straight to my head. I hit the wall around Phenac at full force. They're still trying to patch up all the cracks.

"Ouch." said Kris. "You get fined?"

"No, mercifully. Not even warned. They're a pretty understanding bunch, those folks. All I said was 'five punk junkies' and they let me off scot-free.

First thing I did, I found me a place to rest. I honestly needed to calm myself down, take a rest, something like that. Especially after seeing what happened to Agate. I still can't believe people do that."

The two drunks who laughed during the barkeep's speech went stumbling out of the bar. One of the two shouted once he walked out into the desert;

"Hey! Some kid just wrecked my bike!"




"Once I woke up, I took a walk around. Phenac is really pretty, but I can envision a lot of better things that could be done with a desert oasis." Jovi then said, under her breath, "Don't tell them, though. It really ticks them off."

"Duly noted." replied Kris, Willie and the bartender in unison.

"Anyway, Phenac itself was a status symbol. The place is chock full of excess. Heck, the place is so full of water, you could swim across town. But you can't because people get angry."

"Oh, yeah." said the barkeep. "I know these people. I swear, if I ever have to hear Promenade again, I'll-"

Willie cut him off. "He's got a deep-seated hatred towards classical music. You should see what he can do to a Stradivarius. You know, the violin?"

"Yeah." said Kris and Jovi. "Ouch."

"Suffice to say that he had one of 'em taxidermed."

"Really." Jovi was evidently unbeleiving.

"No foolin'. He even kept it on the wall 'till the owner threatened to sue. Something about 'salt in the wound' or something like that."

"Makes sense." said Jovi. "They don't really like to be embarrassed. That would explain why they were such killjoys. However, one good thing about 'em, they don't ruin everything. There's another place where they'll let you swim. You know that old colosseum?"

"Phenac Colosseum?" asked Willie.

"Yeah, that place. They don't run it as a ring anymore, so it's fair game as a park and a swimming hole. You get kids and adults there all the time. Everything from picnics to proposals happens there. You even get kids who lay down some cardboard and breakdance on the arena floor. And the boomboxes they always haul along sound even better in that giant echo chamber. Not to mention the feel. The place is atmospheric. I mean, come on, It's the closest place to heaven you can reach without dying. It's a borderline utopia. They keep the place intact, and they still maintain its upkeep. It's every bit as pristine as it used to be back as a colosseum. I don't know why, either."

"I've seen the place." Kris replied. "A good dance show and a good time for relaxation. We killed two birds with one stone in that place. My guess as why they kept it? I think it's a lest-we-forget approach. I mean, come on! They had all manner of heroes in there!"

"And they don't mind who goes there now, either." continued Jovi. "Which is a good thing. But it can be a bad thing, too."

"What do you mean?" asked Kris.

"Willie, you know that guy who was throwing rocks at my bike?"

"Oh, yeah" said Willie before muttering incomprehensibly.

"I.. met him... at the old Colosseum..." Jovi continued, tears beginning to stream down her face.

The bartender was at a loss for words. It was at this point that he noticed Jovi's glass. It was empty.

"You want some more root beer?"

"Yes, please..." replied Jovi, who received her drink and then promptly tossed it back.