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Grenades Are Made For Throwing. Not Eating They were living their lives out in a way any sophisticated intellectual person would "We were watching Telly." They had a mission, to teach the world that grenades don't taste nice inside "At that point we decided to take action! We strode gregariously up to our boss and majestically persuaded him to fund our campaign." "Really?" The old man perked up a bit. "No. We told him we needed money to buy him a present." "He wasn't pleased when he found a £5 book voucher in gift wrapping after we had borrowed 2000 Poké-credits." And against all the odds… "Is something wrong with him?" Skominic took a deep breath. "Lets just say the NHS doesn't exist in this fictional world" …despite all the armies of corrupt bug catchers… "Fish" he cursed "Right men, do them!" "What do you mean by 'do them'?" came the simultaneous query of his bug catcher legion "Do you mean dress them up...do you mean do a dance?" "What? No, I mean kick them in!" …they never once compromised their views "ROCKS ARE HARD!" (Author Note: This information was kindly provided by CompuServe) He ran around the Gym, which was a large room with trainers scattered lavishly around, and grabbed a trainers shoulder, spun him round and screamed "ROCKS ARE HARD!" in his face, and threw him toward the wall. He repeated this for the rest of the trainers in the room, until he reached the last one. He spun him around as before. "RO-" He decided he was bored with that and just punched the unfortunate trainers lights very much out. Panting, he raced up to Skominic. "How'd I do?" Skominic examined his stopwatch and delivered his verdict. "Five seconds faster than the last time. Well done" And their journey took them places that would reduce lesser mortals to slimy goo (politicians) "Congratulations! You've qualified for the Eurovision Song Contest!" So join Skominic and Dinner in their campaign. You never know, it might be fun. At some point.
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