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To Meeka, these shindigs never really did make sense. A single embodiment, be it a man, woman, or child would spend a large quantity of their money to have a lavish party and send out invitations to random trainers, breeders, etcetera to partake in the festivities. And throughout it all, they would never show their face. The breeder was hoping to thank the anonymous for donating money to her general store. It was a small amount but business has been slower than a Slugma through molasses in her shop. She was grateful to any money that would come her way. Meeka was disappointed, yes, but she decided to make the most of it.

El has been her only escort to the party, so she didn't have to worry about a certain Stantler stinking up the area, a certain Pikachu climbing upon chandeliers, a certain Mewtwo hugging the breath out of an innocent victim, a certain Tentacruel not keeping his tentacles to himself or a certain Ursaring sleeping on the cuisine table. The Raichu was luckily one of her well behaved Pokemon like her Pidgeot and other Pikachu. All would be well, or so she thought.

Come the second hour of the little party, El had wandered off and Meeka was oblivious to his disappearance. El had fancied himself a snack that was not upon the food table and was actually a pot of Tamato sauce in the back kitchen. Chefs were too busy preparing the appetizers to even worry about dinner. Due to this, the pot of red sauce was unsupervised and that left for some mischievousness to occur. El hopped upon the counter and took a large whiff of the cold sauce. It smelled heavenly! As El tipped the large pot forward so he could get a lick, he tipped it a little too much and the pot fell right over him. The red contents of the cookware spilled everywhere, especially on him. Panicking as the world had suddenly went black, El made a dash for it. The pot refused to leave the vicinity of his head and the poor Raichu raced from the back kitchen to the parlor where the party was taking place.

Sauce, screams, and a slippery floor was the outcome of this entire accident. El was still hightailing it out of there and Meeka was too busy getting bothered with a rather risque old man to see what the commotion was about. But some excitement was surely needed for this event. So, uh, party hearty?

"Being fashionably late," Carko lectured Levi, who was quietly coiled about the new egg. "is key to making a desirable impression." Needle in mouth, she finished attaching the last bit of pizazz to her outfit, and hastily stuffed needle, thread, and bits of fabric into her purse. Getting ready for a party when all you had were the same clothes you wore day in and day out on the road was daunting to say the least. Carko had considered it a challenge to her skills as a budding Pokemon trainer prodigy.
"The most important people are always late to parties." Carko expanded, glancing over the fence to see how the party was going. "Though it sure is a pain having to wait in these bushes for the rest of the party-goers to arrive."
With a rustle, her head disappeared back into the foliage, and with one more outfit check she strode into the party...
just in time to have a Raichu with a pot on his head spill tomato sauce on her outfit.
Carko blinked, looked down at her outfit, looked back at the Raichu, and fainted dead away.

Marcel's reasoning for going to the party wasn't totally logically sound. According to him: "Why would I need an invitation?" He walked without care to the party that he had heard so much about throughout the town with Nerezza floating at his side. The Gastly had a scowl on her face. It was beyond her why Opal made her look after the eight-year-old. It was all just baby-sitting, and Nerezza wasn't the greatest with kids. All she could figure was that she was here to make sure that Marcel didn't get into trouble, which was a lost cause, considering Marcel got into trouble wherever he went.

Marcel's Thermos bounced in his coat pocket at he wandered through the party. It, unfortunately, contained no Pokeballs that Marcel could call his own. Instead, it's contents included a couple of pencils and Nerezza's Pokeball "in case she got too rowdy," as Opal put it. Even with the responsibility of the Gastly weighing on Marcel, he kept a cheerful deposition, as most eight-year-old boys did. He pushed a strand of brown, shaggy hair behind his ear as his gray eyes scanned the room. It seemed to be filled mostly with adults and Pokemon. The boy was used to both. He migrated over to a chair and pulled out his sketchbook and a pencil from his Thermos. When he was seated comfortably in the chair, he proceeded to draw the various Pokemon present.

While Marcel was distracted, Nerezza floated among the party crowd. It was not beyond the realm of imagination to say that she was bored to tears. The Gastly yawned widely and wiped a small tear from her eyes with a wispy gaseous tendril. She scanned the room as Marcel did a minute or two ago and recognized the face of Meeka, the orange-headed shopkeeper that she and Opal met some time ago. Nerezza was rather fond of the young woman and slowly floated towards her until a noise made her stop and turn. The Raichu named El (whom she remembered from the shop) had spilled a large pot of tomato sauce and was wandering around with the pot on his head. The Gastly rolled her eyes and floated over to the Raichu to pull the pot off of his head until a Mewtwo pulled it off before her. Nerezza felt slightly peeved at that, but she waved it off and floated to El's side. "You 'kay, kid?"

"<Dear Arceus . . . >"

Ever since the giant lab escapee had called his trainer's house home, he has been plagued with an unending amount of unwanted hugs. These hugs were without a doubt the way she killed innocent victims. At first, they start out sweet with pressure earned from any hug given. However, her grip never loosens and as she holds you, she squeezes tighter . . . and tighter . . . and tighter. Three times, THREE TIMES he was brought to the brink of darkness from her love. Her love could kill and El was not ready to die.

Due to this, El has become paranoid of any vision of a humanoid kitty that would show itself. Frightened was he when something sparked by his peripheral and attacked anything that made a sound or moved. When dearest El saw Fuu, he screamed louder than a newborn Fearow and fell fainted to the floor. The answer was quite obvious now: he was not okay.

Meeka flew around from the yelp. Not only did she spy her drenched Raichu out cold but also what looked to be a trainer. "My, they're dropping like Shedinja." quoted the man who was bothering her but she in turn rushed to the young woman's aid.

"Um, are you alright?" she asked, blinking. Meeka wasn't a doctor so she had no idea how to awaken the unconscious. The only thought that came to mind was cold water . . . and there was none around. Rather, she opted for the punch bowl. Instead of grabbing a cup (as what a normal person would do . . . but consider who the person was and rethink the choice.), Meeka grabbed the entire bowl and splashed it onto the victim. "MA'AM, ARE YOU ALRIGHT NOW?" she asked now, bellowing into the woman's ear. Honestly, Meeka had probably made her feel worse.

Nerezza floated back quickly as the Raichu fainted dead away from the sight of the Mewtwo in the tattered cape. She sent a puzzled glance at the Mewtwo to see his reaction, but she was again started by the sound of Meeka yelling to a woman who had also passed out and was now dripping with punch. "Oh, Arceus, this is already a disaster." She decided to wisely disregard all of the commotion and floated over to the snack table. There she found an assortment of delicious hors-doerves and the like, and she began to help herself greedily to a few candies berries.

Marcel, on the other hand, was quite enjoying himself watching the pandemonium unfolding in the party which he had sort of crashed. He continued to people and Pokemon watch as more guests arrived and more problems ensued. As he watched the crowds, the boy caught sight of something strange: a Pokemon that looked to be a mix of a Pikachu and a Pachirisu. Having seen this strange phenomenon, Marcel simply had to investigate. He put away his sketchbook and clenched the pencil in his teeth as he climbed off of the chair and meandered through the crowd, all the while following and keeping an eye on the unique Pokemon.

The sight of the Raichu abruptly fainting very nearly sent poor Fuutarou into a panic. He hadn't done anything harmful to it! (At least he didn't think he had.) So naturally, his first instinct was to send out a distress signal to his trainer.

One that the red-clad ninja was quick to respond to. And really, it wasn't all that hard to find Fuutarou. It was unusual enough to see a Mewtwo. But one in a tattered cloak, standing over a passed out Raichu, trainer, and another trainer about to throw a whole bowl of punch on aforementioned passed out trainer? Easy find...

"Is everything alright over here?"

'The Raichu passed out when it saw me... I think something's wrong with it.'

Pikachirisu got a bit nervous when several pokemon and a human started coming towards her, but no one seemed aggressive. The pokemon wanted the food, and the human didn't appear to have any pokeballs. So, rather than run away, she merely scurried to a corner to make room for the others, still watching the chaos with interest.

She chittered a small giggle when she saw the punch upended on the face of a fainted human. How quickly the empty party had turned into a wild chaos. She supposed that it would only be a matter of time until disaster struck the table that she was currently sitting on, but until then, she would be safe. Better yet, her nearly-empty stomach was filling up quickly. Soon, she would be stuffed and could make her escape.

Really, it wasn't dangerous there at all. If you acted like you belonged, trainers wouldn't whip out the pokeballs. She assumed that she would actually be safer in the suburbs than in the wild, and resolved to make a new home for herself within the city. Besides, it was much more exciting and less lonely around the trainers!

Fir's eyes widened as she was overtaken by a loud voice and a sudden heavy weight upon her back. The teen almost fell over on her face but was thankfully saved by her ditto who quickly transformed from a book to a cushion.

"Bun." Fir stated curtly, lifting her head up from the transformed ditto. There was affection in Fir's voice, but it was not overtly obvious to anyone but those who knew Fir quite well.