Albert Rosenfield

[It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood, Route! Sixty-five degrees and sunny in the middle of January. Sure, all the melting snow has probably turned the yard to mud, but what the hey, it's a nice change from blitzing cold weather and mountains of snow. And seeing as how tomorrow is predicted to be just as nice, Albert's just going to head right on over to the hall closet to put away his heavy winter coat for the next few d—

OHGOD WHY ARE THERE PUPPIES EVERYWHERE WHO PUT PUPPIES IN THE CLOSET

Twenty-four puppies, to be exact — a nice big mess of Poochyena, Houndour, and Growlithe puppies, all of whom come swarming out at the first crack of light shining through the doorway. One furry stampede later, Albert is left standing aghast with his hand still on the doorknob and the coat still over his arm, staring incredulously into the closet (where there seems to be a hastily-dragged and lumpily-piled blanket shoved into a corner, and a whole lot of eggshells scattered around) and blinking like he's not entirely sure he believes he just saw what he did.

Were those just puppies.

In the closet.

Why were there puppies in the — actually, you know what, does he really want to know? Probably not.]

Gandhina!

[And sure enough, a minute later, a muddy-pawed Gandhina trots obediently into view, tail wagging and a comatose, weather-beaten, mostly-dead Paras held securely in her jaws. Clearly currently rocking the most happy puppy mood to ever exist, she sets it down on the carpet and sits proudly, still trying to wag her tail despite it being trapped beneath her.]

Dammit, Gandhina, what are you doing with Thi— that's...not Thing. Where did you find ano...ther...

[BUT BEFORE FURTHER COMMENT CAN BE HAD, in skitters the real Thing (as evidenced by the fact that he's still de-mushroomed and wrapped securely in clean white bandages) — who proceeds to DASH OVER TO THE OTHER PARAS like a crab possessed, and what ensues can only be described as, well, the Paras equivalent of cuddling.

Yeah.

If any of you need Albert, network, he'll just be standing here contemplating what the hell his life has become, thanks.]

[So Johto, have you ever been treated to the sight of a happy baby Togepi up close and personal? Well, if not, today you're going to have that pleasure as this video comes on; trilling quietly but cheerfully, Egghead the Togepi has somehow found his way up onto the surface where Albert last abandoned his Gear and is now happily amusing himself by poking at the buttons. Hence, the video that follows is sporadic and clipped in parts; sometimes the video cuts out entirely and switches to audio, while at other times there are large chunks missing that come interspersed with gibberish text.

When the video is on, however, the network at large is treated to the sight of Egghead peering merrily into the camera, surrounded in the periphery by an assortment of items that comprise Albert's work over the past month — stacks of paper covered in neat but cramped handwriting, small plastic bags with what appear to be samples of berries, powders, leaf clippings, mushrooms, bits of fur, and other assorted snippets inside, an open box of latex gloves, and half a pack of cigarettes.

However, there appears to be some commotion going on in the background, providing a decidedly odd soundtrack to Egghead's playing. Some of it is the recognizably nervous woofing of a Poochyena who is pretty sure her trainer wouldn't be happy to discover Egghead's antics; most of it, however, is Albert's rapid and acerbic tone itself.]

—best we're going to get in this damn — I'll duct-tape you to that table, Thing, if you don't quit trying to make a speedy getaway. What do you think you are, the Harry Houdini of coconut crabs? All right, now where's th—

[The video cuts, and then—]

dddddddddfifffffffffioooooooooo

[And a minute later, the video resumes—]

—nna do you first to keep him still, and then you're the follow-up to put him to sleep, got it? ...Hey, don't give me that look, princess, Cooper told you to behave and I'm not exactly thrilled to be depending on a five-foot owl and an electric mutt for this, either.

[Abruptly, the video cuts out, but the audio continues.]

Okay, now I just need — Dummy, you better not be touching anything, if I have to sterilize you again I'm go—

[And then—]

afdsfafdfdfdfdfdffffffdfsssefwees

[A while later, the video resumes—]

—kay. Now listen, it'll be just like you practiced. Don't start thinking too much, got it? Calm, confident hand. ...Scythe blade. Whatever.

All right. Gandhina, take Egghead and get out of he—what are you doing? Leave that alo—

[And with one last half-pitiful, half-guilty whimper from Gandhina, the feed closes for the final time.]


[OOC: Responses from Albert will come ICly a while after this post, once Thing's emergency tochukaso removal surgery has concluded. Because what happens to a Paras when it evolves is just plain scary, man. Also, Tricia the Manectric and Holmes the Noctowl, referenced herein, were borrowed with Coop-mun's permission!]