Boys and girls, here he is. Meet. Your. God. Look at that. Look at that magnificent genetically/mechanically engineered weaponized piece of awesome shit. The USA spent a pretty penny developing this motherfucker only to realize they didn't build him, he built them. Cannons, man. Fucking
cannons. This is a child's game, and this poke has fucking GUNS on it's back. And those aren't just for show. Those are fully operational cylindrical death shooters that will fire once, fire twice, fire a third time, and then this creature straight from God's right hand stops to think if you should or shouldn't have been killed, then stops to think again about how it does not care. What you're looking at is a Blastoise. He's looking right back at you with his back turned. Why's his back turned? First, because he knows, one hundred percent for sure, there is no way in your most fanciful hell that you could ever take him. Ever. Secondly, he keeps his back turned to remind you that you are pathetic sack of scum that is only fit to stare at his ass and the shit that may fall out of it. The glorious, glorious, Blastoise shit. Thirdly, you aren't just not worthy, you aren't even fit to see his front. That's right. You aren't even physically fucking adapted to be able to comprehend his front. It will rip your mind apart if you were to view him in his full frontal nude glory. And what's that? What's that there? You so happen to have the balls to be his trainer? That back of his. You can hop on that fucker. Hop on it and
fucking surf. That's right, you can literally cruise in style by riding on a massive turtle with guns sticking out of it's back. Surf through the Elite Four. Go on. Blastoise does not give a shit. He will surf you to the top as long as you have the balls to hang on for the ride. But let's say you aren't a ballsy enough. What's that face saying then? "You're fucking next."
