It’s 6:23 p.m. Thursday night. Brad arrives at my apartment and sits down on the couch.
“Your apartment doesn’t have any Pokemons.”
He lifts his phone back up.
There’s what in my bedroom? Why is he going in my bedroom? It’s a mess. I haven’t seen the floor since the Ghostbusters were male. Why is he going in there. Omg, he’s not stopping.
what I know is in my bedroom:
- dirty clothes
- clean clothes
- a bed
- some of winston’s toys
what i now have to worry about being in my bedroom:
- a pokemon
what i think a pokemon will do to my room:
- eat my clothes
- play with winston’s toys
- haunt my dreams
He gets up to go and “catch it.”
I become worried.
We head out the door to dinner. I’m driving because I like my car’s air conditioner better and I don’t see why that makes me high maintenance.
We come to a stoplight. I turn on my left blinker.
He says, “Oh, yes! One at the next light!”
I turn left.
|He waves goodbye.|
what I think he’s waving goodbye to:
- a pretty girl
- quarter bar
- another pretty girl
We get on the highway. He tells me there are none on the highway and even if there were, I’m going too fast.
I drive faster to out-drive whatever he’s talking about.
We arrive at the restaurant. It’s next to Rusty Taco, which he tells me has an important one to catch.
what I think is in Rusty Taco to catch:
- frat guys
- star jones
We sit down at our table. He tilts his phone toward him and clicks on things. I bashfully, but adorably, put my head down and smile. I think he’s taking a picture of me.
“Oh, no. I wasn’t taking a picture of you. I was just catching one.”
We finish dinner after he tried explaining the game to me. I didn’t understand but I nodded anyway.
We take some access roads on the way back. I’m told this is “a good thing.”
We arrive back home and sit down to watch some TV.
“*mumbles, mumbles…* Pikachu.”
“Did you just call me Pikachu,” I ask with a smile because that’s a really effing cute nickname.
“No, I just caught one.”
this blog was modeled after this one don’t read it.