From: Marco262 (marco262@yahoo.computer) Subject: [PW!] [ATTN: Adrian Tymes] New problems arise Newsgroups: alt.games.nintendo.pokemon Date: 2000-11-07 17:55:07 PST <You'll just have to wait.> <C'mon man! I've starving over here!> <No.> <Like, you are being so mean DJ!> <We have to wait for Jason.> <Whoah dude, that lamer's been dozing all morning! Let's dish up the yummys already!> <See here, DJ old boy. If he doesn't get off the old snoozing board soon, we'll all starve!> <Alright! Alright! I'll get him up!> DJ waddled away in bad spirits across the roof top. Ever since the group had been chased by the police out of Viridian, they were forced to take refuge on top of the Science Museum in Pewter. He stomped about as well as a Chansey can stomp past Gigawatt, who had stuck itself on the side of a large metal air conditioner and was sleeping peacefully. He soon came across a tent set up against an industrial heater. He knocked one of his limbs against the metallic box and it gave a dull hollow sound. <Jason! Are you awake yet?> Hoarse moans met DJ's ears and he pulled aside a flap of the tent. Jason was lying face down in his pillow. His moans were almost inaudible and he was pounding fist against his pillow weakly. DJ tapped his masters foot and Jason's head shot up. He had an expression that looked like he was in pain. <Jason? What's wrong?> DJ asked. Jason answered him...and no sound came out. Jason grimaced and knelt on the air matress that served at he bed. He leaned forward, and DJ could just here him whisper one word: Laryngitis. DJ's eyes opened wide. <Oh, dear Goddish, no!> he screamed, <We have a show in less then 24 hours.> Jason nodded leaned against the heater. The warmth from it seeped into his back, comforting a little. Not a lot, a little. <But we can't cancel the show! We've never canceled a show! All the tickets are in the box offices! We can't just...> Hsi rambling was cut off suddenly because Jason had picked up the Chansey and brought the side of his pokemon's head up to his mouth. "Call Mimic," he whispered. (OOC: If you don't want Mimic to do it right now, e-mail me and I'll have something happen. Otherwise, go ahead and do the reply.)