Jonathan Bradshaw - Currently as a Cinccino
The Art Gallery

"Trick Master is fantastic."
"Trick Master is awesome."
"Trick Master is the greatest."

Screw you, Trick Master!

I was so sick of seeing this kind of crap everywhere. For the past four weeks, I've been barely able to cling onto my sanity with this place and the ridiculous things it's done to me. But I was dead-set on trying to find a way out of here... because the only other option was to give up.

Those three lines of nonsensical, egotistical crap were on the museum plaque for a painting of a blue banana with fireworks shooting off in the background. As I looked away, seeing as how thing this was totally useless, I saw the rest of this art gallery didn't make sense either, and for now, I seemed to be the only one in here. There was a pink and white checkerboard pattern over all of the floor, walls, and ceiling, and it was disorienting as hell and seemed to wobble a bit. Meanwhile, none of these pictures made sense either. Part of me just felt like finding another door just to change the channel.

I took a few steps, slowly waddling along as a Cinccino because I was still not used to this plushy chinchilla form in the first place. I tried to make head or tails of the next painting. It kind of looked like Slateport City, but I was pretty sure it wasn't, because I highly doubted Slateport City ever melted the way this one did, was raining clocks and hourglasses, and once had the beach crowded with purple Marills dressed in tuxedos. On the plaque...

"There comes a time when a Fletchinder will want to tie your shoes. But you won't understand it. You it but won't understand. Y T BT WNT NDRSTND."

Oh, why the hell did I ever enter this stupid place...