H E Double Hockey Sticks

With the one and only Shred Zeppelin

"I don't get paid enough for this shit." He complained to the void as he found himself standing upon an empty, floating isle; just a small part of a larger archipelago hovering over a white, misty abyss.

If memory wasn't failing him, that would mean he had somehow wandered into the abyss without realizing it. A tall order for most ordinary folk, but he supposed it was within his unique capabilities to fuck up walking.

"Well, this is useless now." He huffed as he casually chucked his league issued pickaxe and hard hat into the abyss before sighing. "Man, I don't wanna report this. I'm on vacati— er, Leave."

Whatever. Bigger problem:

"... How do I get back from here?"

Fuck.

He looked around wearily, patting himself briefly before...

"Aw fudge." He only brought his mining team with him. No Orbeetles. How very unlike him.

What to do now...? Maybe the portal back was nearby, since he had just been dropped?

One look around the place told him that no such luck was to be found.

He did see a pale, long haired, ghostly silhouette in the distance though.

Inside the place with all the dead people...

"... Eh." He had made actual contracts with actual demons under church basements at this point. What could a normal ghost even do to him? "Hey! HEY!"

He shouted at the silhouette in the distance from his island, waving his hands in the air.

"YES, YOU, MISS GHOST, MA'AM! DO YOU KNOW HOW TO GET OUT OF HERE?!"

As you look around your isle for any sign of a portal, gateway, or similar means of leaving, your eye catches upon a figure standing on a horizon, sequestered on their own isle far from yours. At first, you just assume it's some kind of shadow demon trying to steal your soul, but a second glance proves more illuminating on the subject. As you squint your eyes, the figure almost seems human, waving its arms about as though trying to get your attention. Are they trying to communicate with you?

Well, there's just one small problem with that...

FHWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM...
"Hey! HEY! YES, YOU, MISS GHOST, MA'AM!"

Yeah, turns out? It's really hard to hear anything here, what with the strange and ominous droning that seems to fill the dead space like water fills the ocean. Now that you've noticed it, it's actually pretty annoying. Is that why this place is so empty? Did all the devils abandon this place to go to a nicer, quieter hell?

"...WHAT?" You attempt to shout over the distorted warble, as though you were at a club where the music was too loud, rather than in an absurdist nightmare dimension that was unknown to common sense. "I DIDN'T HEAR YOU! WHAT DID YOU SAY?"

---

John Sullivan

H E Double Hockey Sticks

With the one and only Shred Zeppelin

Oh good! The impressively broad shouldered ghost lady had noticed him! She was responding, even!

Only one problem with that.

"... WHAT?"

He couldn't hear shit over the ethereal, invisible cacophony that seemed to permeate every moment of the apparent afterlife.

Raising his hands in the air, the youth once again began the long suffering process of full-body gesturing to the ghost his message, going to great pains make the ghost comprehend his game of nonsensical charades.

YOU.

ME.

PIZZA.

... FEED EACHOTHER?

Smiling brightly at the ghost after having clearly, properly communicated his message, the youth pulled out a pokeball and summoned the old reliable-ish— Fearow.

"... Boy, you sure are thin. And... nowhere near big enough." He observed wryly of his big bird, to which it responded by jabbing him in the chest with its pointy beak. "OOF!"

Right, don't bite the hand that feeds.

"Alright then... Here... we... go!" He screamed to himself as he sprinted full tilt towards the edge of the island, his fearow taking flight behind him in a rush— just in time for him to leap off the side of the floating land mass.

For a brief moment, the youth fell down beneath the... clouds? Miasma of the dead? either or, his screams finally, briefly rising over the cacophony of hell.

Then his Fearow darted in after him, before rising out of said miasma with the youth in tow, its talons dug deep on the youth's shoulders as it made a rushed, desperate last 'sprint' for an island slightly nearer to the ghost lady.

They managed to make it.

Just barely.

Both collapsing to the floor, the youth and his bird alike panted for air, each labored breath tasting sweeter than the last.

Yeah, no, those gestures don't mean shit. Or maybe they do, and you're just too far away to pick up on their subtle meaning, but you really doubt it. It's far more likely that this shadow demon is trying to scramble your mind with it's incomprehensible dance, that it might trap you in this place forever. Plus, there's no way this place has a pizzeria, is there? You couldn't get good cheese out here. There wouldn't be enough grass for any Miltank to graze on, to say nothing of growing tomatoes or creating a mill to make the dough. And man, you're not even going to START on how screwed the pepperoni processes would be...

Oh, hang on. That's a Fearow. You can tell, because of its long beak and the distinctive crest on its head. Why would a shadow demon have a Fearow? You figured they'd prefer their bird Pokemon more like Honchkrow and Mandibuzz, but hey, who are you to judge? It's not a bad Pokemon. Not a particularly good one, either, but that's hardly your problem.

You watch from a distance as the Fearow carried the shadow demon off the edge of their island and towards yours. It doesn't seem like a good idea to stick around, does it? Nothing good can be gained from interacting with a shadow demon. And yet, you stick around, because hey, it's a shadow demon with a Fearow. How scary could it really be? Worst comes to worst, you'll beat the shit out of it, run its pockets, and then make it tell you where they keep the exits around here. Simple.

So, you wait, wait, wait, wait, and wait a little longer, until THUMPH! The pair came crashing down right in front of you, landing in a pile on the dirt. It's a little awkward just standing around and watching it unfold, but it does answer some pressing questions.

"Hang on... You aren't a shadow demon at all." You squint, your tone of voice betraying your strange sense of disappointment. Drat. This Hell's stock just keeps getting lower and lower with every passing second, doesn't it? No cool Pokemon, no pizzerias, and they don't even have shadow demons. "Actually, who the fuck even are you? You're just a normal guy. What are you even doing here?"

---

John Sullivan