002-Ivysaur

If you can somehow manage to rare candy a Bulbasaur up to level sixteen, or, dare I say it, actually gain exp (not possible) with Bulbasaur to level him up, you get Ivysaur, which is decidely more badass. Not like it's hard to be more badass than Bulbasaur. Let's put it into perspective. Bulbasaur is your nine year old brother. He cries when you hit him, tells on you when you don't do your homework or drive too fast, tries to be friends with all of your friends, hops on your xbox live account and screams into the mic so your freinds never want to play with you, etc. etc. You are Ivysaur. You're chill. You got shit under control. You got shit on fucking lock fucking down. You got your lockdown on lockdown. You got it under control. You do what you want and you fuck anything that tries to stop you. The only problem is you have a flower on your back. A flower on your fucking back. Ivysaurs that guy that tries to be hard and show no emotion but fails by miles. Fucking miles. He talks about beatin' other pokes into the ground, but instead he just lounges around and writes poetry. Yes, poetry. How do I know? The giveaway is in the picture. Look at those eyes. They hide a hidden pain, a darker secret. They look towards the future where one day Ivysaur may be able to show his true, emotion-filled colors. The other giveaway is that christ forsaken flower. If Ivysaur is sooo badass why the hell isn't there an atomic bomb strapped to that son of a bitch. No. It's a fucking flower. In between the folds of that flower is his poetry and a pint of Ben & Jerry's, which he eats in bed while watching Lifetime then cries himself to sleep. The final tell-tale sign something isn't right is simple. He's a grass pokemon. Need I say more?