Gary extends his hand and his fingers dance absently over the head of his Zapagochi, between its long yellow ears. Small electric charges tickle him, making him smile. The Zapagochi was his first monster. He remembers how he would hear his parents scream at each other as a small boy with toy robots in his hands. He kept trying to make himself believe the screaming was just the robots fighting. Until one day the tiny yellow blob in his ear crawled out and looked at him. “Zap zap! Zap zap!”, and they became best friends. Smiling, Gary bares his wrist, and lets the Zapagochi feed.
His phone buzzes— another overlong post-breakup tirade. He told her he has no time for serious stuff, and he felt this was getting serious, so why the drama? Gary wishes he wouldn’t feel the strain under his chest, but over him, his lvl. 36 Disamorato that had taken residence over the suite’s chandelier purred happily. It would soon reach its third evolution stage.
Focus now. The next battle won’t be cake. That other boy was discovered by an agent somewhere in post-genocide Rwanda where he had been made to watch his village put to death. He already has a well-rounded Mega-Thanatophagon, which at quarterfinals had decimated Little Miss Wheelchair. Good riddance.
Once the Zapagochi is done feeding Gary gets up from the floor and the mess of crumbled beer cans. He thinks about curling up with his phone in search of a shame boner. He could get the edge off and maybe grow the Lotha another 3 Atk pts or so. If he could get the Hate Ray up to speed he might get the drop on that Thanatophagon before it goes Mega. And the rest should go easier.
The next day ten thousand kids are screaming his name and Gary knows they want to be him. Trainers don’t usually get to live long, but who cares? He puts his cap on and walks up to the arena.
“Disamorato, I choose you!”
the Budafoki amended 