Losing a (Pokemon) Battle to Dignity

You awake in a daze in a beret that's seen better years and little else. It would seem you are lying face down on the dusty floor of a tool shed, which would certainly explain all the tools. But not the upturned bucket with the cat sitting on it staring at you like it knows. Like it knows all the terrible things you did last night. 

And I got it all on tape.

You give the shed door a half-hearted push and it gives under your shaking hands with a sinister creak. You risk a tentative peek outside. The morning sun is gloriously bright. With a girlish squeal [well I suppose you could be a girl, I didn't exactly specify your gender yet. Honestly though? I really don't care. I don't need your life story here) you clutch your eyes, praying your scorched retinas can recover from this onslaught of IR rays. Gradually, the fireworks show going on inside your eyelids begins to slow and you can finally get a decent look at where you are.

Rolling, verdant fields stretch as far as the (granted over-exposure-fucked) eyes can see. Against your better judgement, you begin to grin inanely, stepping out onto the luscious emerald turf and gamboling away from the shed. THUMP. You taste grass and the bitter aftertaste of humiliation which allows follows a fall. You must have tripped on something, craning your neck back you see the cause of your current horizontal stance. Some kind of hole, maybe a badger run? No you're pretty sure badgers aren't 4 and a half inches or so wide. Also they don't lay eggs (you're less sure about that one though). Wait, they're not eggs. They're golf balls. How the John-Malkovich-in-Burn-After-Reading did you end up on a golf course?

A rich source of broken teeth.

Vvvvvvvv-vvvvv-vvvvvv. Holy Zombie Jesus, what now? Ah, it's your Xtransreciever, it's ringing. Man, why couldn't you have got a phone with a normal name? Like 4110 or Razzberry? You should probably answer it. Hey! It's that passive-aggressive bitch! You know, your mother! And there's nothing you can do about me calling her that because I'm the narrator! Suck it! She wants to know where you are.Where you've been for the past 72 hours and why there's a Virgin Media technician unconscious in her back garden. You feign ignorance and make your excuses as acerbic as possible. It's clear to your mother that you're in one of those moods, and reminds you that if you can't say anything nice don't say anything at all. You curtly hang up on the promiscuous harpy and smartly toss the crappy Korean toy into a nearby bush. The bush gives a baritone moan and a rustle. You've definitely disturbed something!

A wild Screaminghobo appeared! Lord Have Some Fucking Mercy! Screaminghobo uses Urine Stream! It's super awkward! But after some mild thrashing and flailing you get away safely, pride mostly, intact. The Screamingobo retreats to its bush, but what's this on the floor? You found a half-litre of hyper-gin! You chug it with some relish, it tastes like peppery shame! Holy Bat Balls! You've leveled up!

Gintuition +1
Ginnovation +1
Ginspiration +1
Gintegrity -1 (You did steal it from a homeless guy after all)

You're trying to learn Clumsily Pickpocket! But you already know 4 moves.
1...2...Tada! You forgot Basic Arithematic... and learned Clumsily Pickpocket!

The world is no longer shaking violently before your eyes - as the horror of that Listerine-inflicted (?) hangover begins to wane - but has begun to merely shimmer, like this WASP-exclusive golf club vista was painted (crudely) onto silk fluttering in a light breeze. God this light breeze is awful, you need to get out of here. There's a bus stop in the distance, and Holy Beast of the Underdark! There's the number 82B! Lucky you're wearing your Running Shoes eh? You sprint for the stop and leap athletically onto the bus. You don't pay. Because you're just like that I guess.

A few short stops later and you're back in the city. The bus kindly deposits you outside a Starbuck's. Which is just perfect. You don't need a coffee or anything, but all that gin has left you with an overwhelming urge to swing something blunt and heavy into someone self-righteous looking. And let's be honest, this is where you're likely to find one. You saunter in and shout out at the top of your lungs, I DON'T AGREE WITH ANY CHARITABLE ORGANISATION DOING ANYTHING, ANYWHERE! That should turn some heads.

You are challenged by hipster Nathaniel! Score one for intolerance! Nathaniel sends out Macbookair! But it's not very effective, at anything. You use Ultra-Fisting Fist! Against the Macbook's puny defense stat it's super effective! The surrounding customers are showered with cheap off-white plastic and shattered motherboard componenets and Nathaniel screams in rage and grief. It sounds like seals barking. You got some Petty Cash for winning! Well, you weren't so much awarded that as you essentially just rifled through the tip jar before making a run for the Fire Exit.

You find yourself in the dingy back alley behind Starbuck's, you take a moment to consider what an awesome day this has been so far, when...

A wild Twitchjunkie appeared! Great Gorgoth The Eviscerator's Ghost! Where did he come from?! It's 10.34am! Twitchjunkie uses Mildy Intimidating Glare! You use Coin Toss! While he's fumbling around on the floor trying desperately to scoop up all the loose change you threw in his general direction, you fish around in the pockets of his mouldy jacket. Nice job! You found a Rare Candy! Wait. No. It's 8 grams of rock. You hit that shit up on the spot and finish it like a champ.

May cause some undocumented side effects.

You leveled up! So many times! There's no stopping you now! You're winning at life now motherfucker! Maybe even in some way twice!

Tiger Blood +100

Outer Realm Brain +100

Fire-Breathing Fists +100

Leaving the junkie howling in the alley, you stroll away. Man you feel great, you haven't flown this high in... like... at least 6 hours! Jesus Rollerblading, virgin-deflowering, Alzheimer's-mocking Christ! You're just like that guy! You know that crappy B-movie actor with an utterly inflated sense of self-worth? Dammit, what was his name again? Wait, I've got it! YOU'RE JUST LIKE BILL PAXTON!

Baby if it'll get you in bed with me, then I'm bi-whatever.