And boy, do you ever wait it out.

The first thing you do? Go back to bed. You're still very hungover, and now that you're all-clear of being trapped in some kind of incomprehensible cosmic nightmare, you're sleeping until this skull-pounding headache goes away. You close your eyes, count Mareep, and you're asleep before you know it.

"...It's a tense start here: Rillaboom and Machamp, sizing each other up, waiting to see which'll lose their nerve and make the first move..."

When you finally stir for the second time, it's about 6PM, and that means you're due for dinner. One might think that means getting off your mattress, but actually, no. You just put in a GrubbinHub order on your phone, without so much as loving an inch. All it takes is a few taps and a 40% mark-up in "handling fees" and "service charges", and that's food sorted. But knowing how bad traffic gets in Slateport, it won't be here for a while yet, so you've got plenty of time left to laze around, watch television, and wait for your Sprigatito's™ Locos™ Tacos™ from Weepin' Bell™ to arrive.

And you haven't even got out of bed yet. Imagine that.

MESSAGES - howard slayte
yea so he sent me to an alternate timeline or smthn
but im only back one day
so its basically just a day off yknow
seen 19:06

It's almost 9PM.

Well, no point looking too deeply into it. He probably just dropped his phone in the toilet or something. Or maybe he secretly hates your guts and hopes you die? Both strong possibilities, but you're leaning more towards the former than the latter.

"Here we see Coalossal trying to get itself hit with a Water move, textboox maneuver, real great stuff! But, will it work? Will Inteleon fall for it and trigger that Steam Engine? Will he take the bait?"

Unfortunately, it does mean that your plans for tonight (texting Howard for twelve hours straight) are out the window. So that means its time to fall back on old reliable. Reaching over to your "bed"side "table", you pick up a half-empty can of lukewarm beer with one hand, and a stray "cigarette" with the other.

...Look, you know it's not exactly a glamorous way to spend your Saturday, but hey, what else are you gonna do with it?

...Hm. You did not mean to send that to her, of all people. Hm. Hm! HM.

"Unbelievable."

Alright, change of plans...

...Nevermind, gun's out of bullets. Crisis averted.

The TV's still playing, but you can barely hear it anymore. Partially, that's because you've got a thick bathroom door. Partially, it's because you're on such a weird buzz that your ears are numb. Mainly, it's because you have a lingering case of tinnitus that you've never bothered to get fixed. Is that the right word? Can you even fix tinnitus?

Can you even fix yourself?

The answer is no to both. There's no known cure to tinnitus, and nothing can stop you from being a horrible fuck-up. Seriously, what happened to you today is nothing short of a phenomenon. You're currently BACK IN TIME, and you chose to spend this time laying in bed and getting drunk? What the fuck is even wrong with you? You've been handed this on a silver platter! You got a perfect mulligan, a dream scenario, and you completely squandered it! Are you really that stupid?

Bile is raising in your throat. Your left arm feels stiff. Your skin feels like it's burning up. Feeling this much like shit makes your brutal (though not incorrect) self-critique sting all the more. This sucks. This fuckin' sucks. You fuckin' hate this. You had so much potential to do something cool or exciting or clever or impactful, and you just did nothing. You completely wasted it.

Story of your life, you gue--

"GHURGH!"

--You're interrupted by vomit bursting out of your mouth and into the sink, then a sharp pain in your temples, and then the end of this terrible, terrible timeline.