worktodo: (UNIMPRESSED ☮ bark like a deputy andy)
[So here's Albert.

Since coming to Johto, Albert's seen a lot of wacky shit go down. He's seen people mutating into some kind of hideous hybrid creature from an airborne mutant virus. He's seen ledges that defy the laws of physics. He's seen dragons and dinosaurs and aliens. He's seen people who claim beyond a shadow of a doubt to be actual ponies. He's been yelled at by a teenage Viking. He's been flown all over creation on a bird with clouds for wings and carried forcibly around by a giant green sparklegrizzly and endured patently stupid roadtrips that involved caves and forests and god only knows what else. He's been taunted by ghosts. He's been assaulted with puppies. He's fallen in a really big hole.

He's survived the freaking Armageddon and still didn't let it ruin Christmas.

And now, here on the third day of this latest bout of flagrant insanity, in his quiet home in Saffron City with a brand new swimming pool sparkling in the yard and a snarling levitating three-hundred-pound flesh-eating snowflake snapping at the end of its chain near the outhouse, he is stepping outside to collect himself with a cup of coffee and a moment's peace—

...

And there is a BIG DAMN TREE TRANSPLANTED RIGHT INTO THE MIDDLE OF HIS FORMERLY PRISTINE SIDEWALK, and WHEN THE HELL DID THAT GET THERE and WHO THE HELL EVEN RIPS UP A TREE AND—

...

...

Silently, Albert sips his coffee.

Just another day in Johto, apparently.]
worktodo: (MUSE ☮ we could build a cyborg cop)
[The video here opens with a shot of Albert's lab, rendered sideways and slightly covered in drool, as viewed from somewhere vaguely floor-level — which would lead to the logical conclusion that the Gear must've come on as a result of Gandhina fetching it, and it's just been deposited at its current vantage point courtesy of its shaggy, overenthusiastic courier.

Albert, at least, doesn't seem to have noticed he's being filmed; he's busy crouching a short distance away, fiddling with something that the camera angle can't quite make out.]


All right, you little bouncy pig, let's see how you're doing.

[He proceeds to shuffle around with something, accompanied by the occasional squeaky oink of what is presumably the aforementioned bouncy pig in question; meanwhile, Gandhina's shaggy nose appears on camera, cheerfully depositing what look like a couple of Ping-Pong-ball-sized Pokeballs near the Gear before disappearing again.]

Looks good...looks okay...yeah. Okay. Ready to get mobile again? Yeah, I know, this is asking a lot of a pig so phenomenally stupid from a basic evolutionary standpoint, but let's shoot for the stars here, huh? All right, get your little...hand over there...damn, it's not long enough. Impy, go get a couple of popsicle sticks out of the kitchen —

[Gandhina's nose reappears again; more of the balls are deposited. A few seconds later, a Sableye appears with the requested popsicle sticks and hands them over, and now the sound of ripping tape can be heard.]

Better? Good. Then we'll just get you secured...

[More ripping tape; more eager oinking.]

There. All right, go on, you little pipsqueak.

[And with that, Albert gets to his feet, unintentionally unveiling — what appears to be a Spoink with its little chest wrapped in bandages, seated comfortably in a little chair and harness apparatus, which is in turn secured to the top of a brightly-colored RC car with big rubber treads. The controller, in turn, is secured in front of the chair and harness in about the place that a steering wheel would be, and the joystick controls now have popsicle sticks affixed to them, putting them in reach of the Spoink's tiny arms.

After a moment of fumbling, the Spoink manages to get one of the levers pushed forward, and the car whirs to life, driving forward and jerking to a stop about a foot ahead of its previous position. It tries again; after a few similar false starts, the electric whine picks up and the RC car hurtles out of sight, taking one exceedingly delighted Spoink with it.]


That's gonna get real obnoxious real fast. ...Ah, hell. It's still better than having it bounce all over the damn place. Who the hell comes up with — hmph. At least it looks like the pacemaker's doing its job.

[He turns around, apparently about to get back to work on his next project, and as Gandhina's nose reappears for a third time, suddenly Albert takes notice of her handiwork.]

...Dammit, Gandhina, did you fetch every one in the damn yard?!

[And as a pair of happy puppy jaws close over the Gear, the video ends.]


[OOC: I can't believe I am actually writing this sentence but Spoink lifesaving pacemaker installation is mod-approved. Action for anyone on the Justice Farm is, as always, welcome. o/]
worktodo: (DAFUQ ☮ are they doing gangnam style)
[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.]
worktodo: (LAB ☮ hey check out my bone saw)
[Ladies and gentlemen of Johto and Kanto, something rather odd is afoot on your network today. Upon closer inspection, it appears to be the ceiling of some kind of garage-like room, rendered in video and slo-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-owly moving past at a glacial — yet determined — pace. In fact, it's probably what the ceiling would look like if a Gear camera was pointed at it while that aforementioned Gear was being stolen by a pair of Shuckles.

Which, as a matter of fact, is exactly what's happening.

Unfortunately for these criminal masterminds, their getaway is moving at approximately the speed of molasses left out on a park bench in Siberia, so more likely than not they're going to be noticed before anything productive comes of it.]


Well, you look like you check out, pal...

[—and apparently Albert is somewhere in the vicinity, too, given the proximity of his voice as, presumably unbeknownst to him, his Gear goes Shuckling across the floor.]

No obvious growths, no changes in teeth or coat, eyes still look bright, appetite's good...

[The purple head and glittering diamond eyes of a Sableye creep into view on the camera now, disrupting the slow-moving shot of the ceiling, and a minute later things go dark as two little clawed hands close over the lens and Gear.]

Huh. Doesn't look like there's an upper limit to these things after all. Never mind the fact that education of yours just cost as much as grad school, if not — what're you doing, Impy? Don't play with that. Just leave it there, it's fine.

[The darkness recedes, and now the Gear is on its side on a lab table — one currently covered in the pieces of fifteen broken TMs — and Albert is visible next to it. He's wearing his lab coat and gloves as usual, and is holding a Buneary who is rather nonchalantly nibbling at a piece of lettuce.

Albert continues his inspection of the Buneary another few moments, then checks his watch and heads out of sight, still carrying the Pokemon in his arms.]


Sweep and Scrappy can take care of the mess. Let's get you back in the cage, Bruce.

[And on that note, purple hands descend again, and after a few buttons click, the Gear switches off.]

worktodo: (LAB ☮ hey check out my bone saw)
Filtered to Federal Agents - Dale Cooper, Gordon Cole, Spencer Reid, and Ziva David )

~


[The voice on the audio here is rapid and succinct — Albert in his natural state.]

Three things. Number one, I thought the special-delivery egg thing was bad enough, but now it looks like we've graduated into the post-hatched ones, too. Let me make this clear: this is not a foster home. So if you're one of the dunderheads whose animal went missing lately, I'd suggest you make getting your butt down to the lost and found a priority right about now. There's a couple here that might be yours, and I'm not planning on playing babysitter forever.

Number two: For anybody looking to make a quick buck, you find me one of these things —


— and we'll talk bounty for it.

And number three: while I realize this is asking a lot of a world where the application of physics itself occasionally depends on whether or not you've got a piece of plastic clipped to your coat, is it even possible to get an actual turkey around here, or am I going to have to go make do with serving up some kind of fire chicken or psychic goose next week?
worktodo: (RECLINE ☮ and i'm workin' my strut)
hello this is dummy not typing i am telling impy what to type becuz his hands are smaller and i think i would break it if i did

some nice people were worried that we are not happy

that was nice but it is ok becuz we are happy

but if people thought that we are not happy becuz of our names then it is still ok becuz we have new names now

i hope they are good names becuz we tried to pick ones that ment good things so people would not be worried that we are not happy

except impy we are not sure if his name is not a good name yet but maybe he will get a new one soon too

ok thank you for lissening

oh also we all like our new house too so that is another thing that makes us happy

ham likes it so much he evolved even

thank you goodbye


~
+1 Picture of Dummy (and Albert)'s New House )

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Albert Rosenfield

July 2020

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