It was just after the /vp/oreons had returned, on a pleasant evening when the Pokemon had finished work and were making their way back to the Pokemon Center buildings, that the terrified neighing of a lynx sounded from the yard. Startled, the Pokemon stopped in their tracks. It was Luxray's voice. She neighed again, and all the Pokemon broke into a gallop and rushed into the yard. Then they saw what Luxray had seen.
It was a cat walking on his hind legs.
Yes, it was Torracat. A little awkwardly, as though not quite used to supporting his considerable bulk in that position, but with perfect balance, he was strolling across the yard. And a moment later, out from the door of the farmhouse came a long file of cats, all walking on their hind legs. Some did it better than others, one or two were even a trifle unsteady and looked as though they would have liked the support of a stick, but every one of them made his way right round the yard successfully. And finally there was a tremendous baying of Houndooms and a shrill crowing from the black Honchkrow, and out came Incineroar himself, majestically upright, casting haughty glances from side to side, and with his Houndooms gambolling round him.
He carried a whip in his paw.
There was a deadly silence. Amazed, terrified, huddling together, the Pokemon watched the long line of cats march slowly round the yard. It was as though the world had turned upside-down. Then there came a moment when the first shock had worn off and when, in spite of everything–in spite of their terror of the Houndooms, and of the habit, developed through long years, of never complaining, never criticising, no matter what happened–they might have uttered some word of protest. But just at that moment, as though at a signal, all the /vp/oreons burst out into a tremendous bleating of–
"Four legs good, two legs BETTER! Four legs good, two legs BETTER! Four legs good, two legs BETTER!"
