Lucas’s balls itched so bad, you might think he had a thousand and six zillion fleas crawling around his crotch. Unfortunately, because of how badly they itched and how uncontrollably loud his screams were, Dawn couldn’t get a lick of sleep from dawn till dusk—which is essentially AM to PM, meaning from sunup to sundown, or for those who may not understand, from day to night.

  It didn’t help that she was stoned like Regirock off some Regirock and Regice. She’d also smoked some high-quality Haunter that had her floating through walls like, well, Haunter. Now that she was looking like Hoothoot, she could see in HD—high definition by definition. But the pain still pained her painfully. Toffee wasn’t around to smoke grass with her. She could never forget that. Never. Ever.

  “Oh, Toffee!” she cried.

  “Sing it, bitch!” Lucas burped, sloshed out of his mind. He would never sober up—drinks had him in a cobra clutch like a Sandaconda! (Though, obviously, Sandaconda isn’t a cobra.) He’d even had a crazy nightmare about some llama-horse thing sending him on a mission to collect rocks and blow into a fucking flute. What the hell?

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  But Dawn couldn’t hold back anymore. She couldn’t! She could never!

  “Oh, Toffee!” she cried. “I could never give you up! I could never let you down! I could never run around and desert you!”

  “On some Alcremie-type shit!”

  “Never gonna make you cry, never gonna say goodbye, never gonna tell a lie… and hurt you!”

  After that, a Gigantamax KFC chicken came and laid an egg on them, destroying the world. Thankfully, a magic llama swooped in, flew in, pulled up like calisthenics, and saved the day like data since they needed backup!

  After that, Lucas went back home and kissed the sky, remembering to pick up a fresh batch of Garganacl to snort on his way.