foolishwren | 95. [Video/Action for Ecruteak] Slightly backdated, early afternoon on the 15th

_{[Before anything else, Heather's voice: a little husky and hoarse-sounding, but otherwise high-spirited.]}

Hey.

Hey guys.

Watch this.

_{[Is she aware of the strange outbreaks and Team Rocket threats all over the news? Yes. Yes, she is. Should she be spending her time being concerned about this? Probably.]

[But she has much better things to do with her time.]

[Like film Wren the Murkrow skittering across the top of the coffee table in their Ecruteak Inn room with a tiny plastic battleaxe toy in her beak, where she proceeds to bull over a GeoDude (tm) superhero action figure with a viciousness appropriate for the battlefield. Which is what is being broadcast, of course.]

[What follows is a series of cuts showing her triumph over various other toys (pretty obviously grabbed from a discount bin in some shop somewhere), including Armaldo Schwarzenegger and Darmanitanman ("The Meditation Sensation!") and even a figurine of Barnaby the Shiny Charizard.]

[In several of the shots, Heather's other Pokemon are visible-- Arty the Furret looking on in contempt and Cheryl the Eevee watching in utter fascination over the edge of the table. At one point, the fuzzy baby Joltik she'd hatched a few months back skitters onto the scene, eager to help, but is promptly chased off the table again by the axe-wielding Murkrow, who apparently is a Lone Warrior who needs no assistance.]

[The whole time, Heather is humming ominous theme-music and jiggling the camera in that classic 'found footage' way.]

[Eventually she turns the camera on herself to address the surely-enthralled audience solemnly. Her face is oddly flushed, strangely... although perhaps not, given the summer heat.]}

This has been a Public Services Announcement: my bird is an unstoppable killing machine. Nowhere is safe.

Keep your children in at ni-- oh noooo.

_{[As though on cue, the vaguely football-shaped black bird had come wriggling onto the screen again, clambering up Heather's arm to determinedly butt the side of her face with the toy axe. >:(!!!!]

[There's some 'fighting' and then the camera goes blank.]

[END FEED]}

[ACTION]

_{[With Wren successfully wrestled off into doing something else, Heather shuts the 'Gear and sets it aside, slumping back in her chair with a sigh. Even in shorts and the skimpiest top she owns, it's miserably hot. Enough to sort of make her head pound. She doesn't get it. She remembers the fading summer heat last September being pretty well-managed by all the whirring fans in the Inn...]

[Twisting around, she drapes herself over the back of the chair, poking her tongue out discontently.]}

Guys.

Guuuuuys.

Aren't you just dying in here? This heat is gross.

_{[The TV's on over in the corner. They're talking about the outbreak-- about all the people coming down with mysterious fevers.]

[But that's somewhere else. It can't touch any of them. .... Right?]}

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Electro- ... no, Jack. No.

_{[DOESN'T HE KNOW THAT'S WHAT MADE CRUELLA DEVILLE GO CRAZY IN THAT SHITTY LIVE-ACTION DALMATIANS SEQUEL]

[And then Edgar is all up in the screen.]

[Wren HAD been busy mauling one of Cujo's squeak toys, but she can't ignore the presence of another bird on the screen. Croaking, she climbs over Heather's shoulder.]

[WHAT. WHAT. YOU WANT A PIECE OF THIS? >8C]}

_{[Edgar leans her scarred beak close to the gear and squints. >8c "Krrooowwwk krok krok."]

[Jack knows there's not much he can do but go}

[Error: Irreparable invalid markup ('<:i>') in entry. Owner must fix manually. Raw contents below.]

<sub>[Edgar leans her scarred beak close to the gear and squints. >8c <b>"Krrooowwwk krok krok."</b>]

[Jack knows there's not much he can do but go <:I and muse.]</sub>

There are times I'm quite glad I can't understand them.

_{[Wren proceeds to swell up like a threatened pufferfish. She's about the size of a football, so all the fluffed-up plumage makes her roughly.... twice the size of a football.]}

... Honestly, I think it's obvious enough even without a translation.

_{[Wren is now pecking the screen.]}

Come on, old girl, let the little one have her fun.

_{[Edgar flails her wings against Jack's chest as he tries to lift the gear out of her reach. NO! WREN IS INSULTING HER SIMPLY BY EXISTING! The ex-skeleton rolls his eyes and looks up at the gear Myspace style.]}

You know, I think she's angry that she's getting too big to sit on my shoulder. I'm not entirely sure why she hasn't evolved yet.

--You think so?

I didn't even know these ones DID evolve. What do they become?

_{[She clamps her hands around the black feathery menace and lifts her up, ignoring the squabbly protests.]}

Oh, yes, they become Honchkrow, which is far too large to sit on...much of anything!

_{[There's some beeps and boops as Heather looks up the fabled Murkrow evolution.]}

... Dude.

It looks like a pimp.

_{[Jack can't help himself and starts cackling. That had come from nowhere and it caught him off guard.]}

You're absolutely right!

_{[There's a gruff croak from behind him. Edgar does not approve Bc]}

Like, seriously, it's got the hat and everything.

_{[Wren, on the other hand, is now just craning her head curiously. Pimp? WHAT IS PIMP? :U]}

Such a strange evolutionary turn though, don't you think?

I dunno, I guess it makes sense.

Maybe they get more action if they look like pimps. I mean, that's what evolution's all about, isn't it?

_{[Wren is looking very interested in all this. NEW WORD!]}

You've got a point. Perhaps Edgar doesn't want to be a pimp. Maybe she's more of a romantic. Are you a romantic, Edgar--OW!

_{[Displeased with discussion of whether she wanted to evolve or not (like she wasn't even there!) the Murkrow shuffled up Jack's arm and gave him a harsh bite on the ear.]}

_{[Fortunately for everybody involved, Wren chooses this moment to join the conversation.]}

PIMP PIMP PIMP PIMP PIMP.

_{[Just....this face.]}

Oh my...

... Uh oh.

_{[She keeps... forgetting she's supposed to be careful about what words she uses around Wren... who seems to soak the worst possible things to say like a sponge.]}

PIMP PIMP PIMP PIMP...

Welp! Good luck with that Heather, good day!

--HEY!

You said that word at LEAST as much as I did! You're responsible too!

_{[The chattering of PIMP PIMP PIMP continues in the background.]}

95. [Video/Action for Ecruteak] Slightly backdated, early afternoon on the 15th

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