lieutenantantichrist | [23] Video/Action for Goldenrod

[Listen up. It's time for a message from the President.

You could call it the look of the cat who ate the canary, or you could call it plain smug. That's what's on Blake's face as he reclines behind a big, fancy desk in his headquarters.

(If the big, fancy desk happened to be bought cheap because it has a short leg currently propped up by the local yellow pages, who's to know?)]

So maybe you all noticed that idiot in the welding mask got his ass kicked right out of his little island tax shelter. You know whose boot did the kicking?

That's right. Yours truly.

[He spreads his arms and leans his chair back with a creak.] I'd call that all the inauguration I need.

[There's a big old American flag hanging on the wall behind him. Anybody looking close might notice that it's handmade, with slightly uneven stripes and what may be a couple missing stars. When's the last time anybody gave a fuck about Nebraska, anyway?]

Now, it just so happens I'm in a real good mood. So, if you got grievances, ideas, petitions, or you just want to say thank you, now's the time to bring it up. You got a chance to fuckin' have a say in the government.

[The flag is slightly crooked. A little Snubbull climbs up on the desk to straighten it out.]

My door's open.

[Maybe that's how the ice cream monster thing got in.]

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_{[Here's a not-as-serious-as-it-probably-should-be salute from Danky Kang here.]}

Thanks, Mr. President. How's about a national cake day?

[He will take that salute and consider it serious, despite all evidence to the contrary.

He tilts his head at the camera] What, just a day where everybody eats a shitton of cake?

_{[Ralph points a finger-gun at Blake.]}

Pow. You got it, Prez.

[He crosses his arms.] I'm not baking for anybody.

[From her place on top of the desk, Steve waves enthusiastically. She'll bake!

Just, uh, somebody show her how to bake.]

Well, no, I wouldn't expect you to. But there needs to be a law. Anyone caught not enjoying cake should be subjected to severe punishment.

_{[Bossy, the Worst Rat can be seen dozing in the background. She hasn't yet noticed that ole meat mitts is talking to the bearded guy who keeps her bestie.]}

Well, in that case. We'd need a shitload of cake, though. Lots of logistics there. And quality control. I'm not the kind of emperor who gives his populace shitty pastry. That's a one way train to violent revolution.

[He's kidding! Maybe.

Steve peers into the screen and catches the sight of a yellowish back. She snub!s hello. She hasn't seen her friend for quite a while.]

More like a whole load of cake-making supplies. Everyone should make their own cakes.

_{[A yellow ear flicks and the rat rolls into a sitting position. She knows that snub! Bossy scrambles over and soon shoves her nose right into the camera.]}

Hey, HEY! You wanna chat, get your own 'gear! I know you've got more money on you than I do.

Oh no, I know where that leads. You get lawsuits and complaints that you're discriminated against non-baking-Monster Islanders. Hell, take you for example. I can't exactly see you frosting anything. You got hands like Christmas hams.

[Steve hops over and sticks her head right into the camera. She snubs cheerfully, asking Bossy how she's been and if she's found anything shiny lately.

Blake finds that comment odd.] What, is your rat running her own racket?

Hey, I used to work in a kitchen, ya know! A pizza can't be that different than a cake!

_{[Bossy starts chittering back to her, talking about rings and novelty belt buckles.]}

I wouldn't be surprised if she's actually employed somewhere. She does what she wants.

Remind me to watch your cakes for anchovies.

[Steve's ears twitch enthusiastically. She wants to see!]

Employed? What could an armadillo even do for a job, be a professional soccer ball?

Hey, don't knock it till ya try i--HEY!

_{[Yoink! Bossy squirmed up between the desk Ralph was crouching at and Ralph himself, snatching the 'gear out of his big meatmitts. The little Sandshrew scurried across the room, jabbering away.]}

Steve! Steve! You won't believe it! I almost have enough parts to make an entire necklace!

[Yeah, that giant face just turned into a little yellow armadillo one. Steve hops into the field of view, blocking Blake and yapping curiously.]

Oh! I want to see! It must be pretty!

_{[Bossy tugs the bottom drawer of Ralph's dresser open and starts digging through his extra clothes before tugging out a little drawstring bag. She dumps it on the floor and turns the 'gear around to show quite a few shiny rocks and chains.]}

They aren't the same color, but I think I can make it work!

Wow! There's so many!

[Steve's eyes are wide. For that matter, so are Blake's.] Holy shit. Where'd an armadillo get all that?

I know, right! _{[The Sandshrew hesitates, placing the rocks in a different order.]} Which one, um, is your favorite?

_{[Ralph just watches from the background with an unamused expression.]}

I don't even ask anymore. I don't want to know.

[Steve puts her paw to her chin and considers carefully before pointing.] I like that purple one.

[Meanwhile, Blake is looking very slowly from the glittering pile to the giant man in the background.]

Ralph. I am going to ask you this once.

Did your armadillo rob a jewelry store?

_{[Bossy carefully selects the purple one and places it into the center of the gem line-up. Yes. All going according to plan. Her ears twitch as she makes a few other adjustments.]

[Ralph doesn't sound bothered. Just tired.]}

Probably?

[Blake groans.]

Goddammit. I'm trying to build a society here. I can't be in charge of a nation where rodents go around knocking over all the shops. It doesn't look right.

Is there even a such thing as PokeJail?

There sure as hell should be.

[Steve barks in dismay. Don't talk about putting her friend in jail!]

But first off, you're her trainer. She's your responsibility.

Looks like you got a job to do, Mr. President.

[Blake's eyes narrow.]

Looks like I do.

[23] Video/Action for Goldenrod - "ROCK, FLAG, and EAGLE."

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