Canada. A wretched hive of scum and villainy. Danger was around every turn, with unsettled territory for miles, because everyone was lazy and hated being cold. No one would willingly choose to caress its ill-conceived, blighted ground with their innocent soles… unless there was something to gain, of course.
Treasure was PK’s middle name. P “Treasure” K, indeed. She made her way through the snowy mountaintops of the Yukon like a purple blur, as though she could scent-track the fabled source of great wealth. Her two companions trailed behind her, unable to keep up. They would never truly understand the pursuit of happiness. The pursuit of mad cash. However, something P “Treasure” K couldn’t understand stood in her way, startling her enough that she ground to a halt.
PK’s companions were given a chance to catch up, thanks to this obstacle. One hopped along behind her in all his green glory. In fact, everyone nearby was forced to stop for a moment and gaze upon his unfathomable manliness. The very thought of this Breloom gentleman being within 50 feet of any sort of female’s wear caused the death of brain cells. It was just not a processable thought.
Shortly behind, some sort of really cool airplane monster hovered close behind PK. Her red and white colors gave away her terrible secret: corruption via Canadian politics. They tried to make her one of them. Fortunately, she was rescued, but not without consequences. As a reminder of this fate, she always held a very cool skateboard in one of her wings, though she could never grow proper legs to use it. When would the government learn to prevent tragedies like this?
Probably never. That’s okay though.
“Shroomy!” P “Treasure” K barked out, pointing at a strange creature before her. “It wants my money! Kill it!”
Shroomsworth couldn’t be bothered to stop being manly long enough to give more than a momentary glance to the creature. Standing majestically upon a snow-topped hill, the large, fuzzy quadruped gazed about mindlessly, calling attention to its long, rounded snout and massive antlers. It wasn’t really that great, though. Whatever.
“PK, my darling little mister, we call that a moose!” the floating Latias educated. “They don’t need treasure, because the Canadian government cursed them to be simple stereotypes for our nation. It has a hard enough life!”
The Latias’s wise words touched the hearts of everyone, except the moose, because it’s just a moose. As a result, everyone did what they should have done instead of having that conversation, and walked around it. The moose continued on to lead an empty, soulless life of being a moose, until it died. It’s alright to cry for a minute or two before moving on.
Eventually, all of this traveling through snow, not-really-French people, and the local wildlife paid off. There, on the top of the next mountain P “Treasure” K effortlessly hiked upon, was a gilded chest. It was virtually untouched, since no one could sniff out treasure like P “Treasure” K.
“Goodness, madam!” the Breloom gentleman finally chimed in. His humble manliness permitted him to speak in the presence of this seemingly amazing treasure box, as it detected there was nothing girly inside it. Whew. “Whatever shall we do with the valuables we may find in there?”
“Oh!” the cool airplane thing interjected. “I know! I could get a skateboard-ectomy!” she suggested, with hope in her voice. Living with chronic skateboard was really quite a wrench in the works for her. Could this finally be the end of the pain?
“No way!” P “Treasure” K shot down, immediately zipping over to the box and giving it a hearty kick. Despite the fact that her legs were purple, the box popped right open. It was really easy, and she almost considered the massive ego boost enough of a treasure to be satisfied with.
Almost.
Within the mysterious box, the massive, ridiculous pirate chest in the middle of the Canadian wilderness, P “Treasure” K found something that changed her life. Years later, she would assert to other peoples’ children that this happened, only to have them not listen and walk away. It was that sort of legendary.
No, it wasn’t a cake. That box was probably sitting there for like, years. If it had cake in it, it would be all stale and gross. Don’t be foolish, okay?
All that time, the treasure had been sitting, waiting for the right moment. Waiting for someone with legs purple enough to kick it open. To bask in the wonders of its contents, which glowed with an awesome power in the very instant it revealed them.
It was a birthday. A birthday, all for P “Treasure” K, within this box of wonders. Truly, it was worth braving the horrid wastes of Canada. In awe, she lifted the birthday from the box and inspected it. It was like new. It was something special. It smiled at her.
“Oh, this appears to be a ‘happy birthday’ for you, madam!” Shroomsworth joked. It wasn’t funny, but everyone laughed anyway, because they were happy that he was not in a dress, or paying a toll.
The Latias, despite the fact that her skateboard would never be healed, was very cheerful in the presence of this birthday. “Let’s take it home! It’s way too cold here for a birthday to survive,” she wisely suggested. Really, it was too cold for a birthday. Like, a lot of degrees low.
In the end, P “Treasure” K went with her comrades back home, where she had a shiny new birthday. Everyone bought her cakes, except for the gilded treasure chest. Nobody’s perfect, she guessed.
The End
i felt the need to share this once again in memory of last year and how my birthday is coming up