To Kill A Pokémon
The Sordid Memoirs Of Ash Tray.


"Look Maw, I caught a Pokémon!"
This pesky little Charmander had been scampering around the flat for days, stealing food from the fridge and dragging tasty morcels back to its hole in the wall. Eventually, Crock and Mistake saw it raiding the fridge one day, so we slammed the door on it and cooled it down for a few hours. After this time, we were able to grab it and hang it in the lounge as a light.

"Hey looks guys, his fire's gone out. I wonder if I can light it again?"
Yes, the flame on poor little Charmander's tail went out after a bit, plunging the lounge in darkness. So we decided to light it again, with a cigarette lighter an a bottle-o-meths.


"Hey Charmander, don't you know that smoking's bad for your health?!"

The crusty, smouldering husk that until thisarvo was a bouncy, cute, happy little pain in the neck. (No, not me; the things I'm holding, dumbass.)

Gotta Kill 'em ALL!