Sykes! This is actually the final chapter. What good is a 100-chapter story if you don't pull a ruse and go onto 101? An ordinary one of course, I like going a step further, thank you very much. This one is just a little short piece, enjoy it anyhow.

Michael Mario: Thanks, you were one of my more competent reviewers, and I appreciate that.

TheDominator606: Thank you, I appreciate you looking forward to my other stories!

TheBlueAlienRobotZombie: He's trapped in the leviathan's grasp, there's no escape, might as well enjoy it.

Jupitergirl132: It's slang.

Fire Miner: Thank you! I like that you're going to keep up with my other projects, that's very nice of you!

Why not review and send in your final, conclusive thoughts for the story? It would really help me a ton if you did.

Word Count: 402 words.

.101 A Dubious Enigma and a Wayward Future Scattered Somewhere at the End of the Line

"I can remember, sometime ages ago, I was locked up in my room with strict orders not to leave. I looked outside, with a gloomy demeanor, and I recall seeing you, and that tender, benevolent face."

"From that day, I knew where my priorities were at."

Beep.

"Oh crap!" in a flash, the boy wakes up from his light sleep. He breathes heavily, looking around the room for an explanation to the sudden noise.

His eyes fall on his alarm clock.

4:18 AM.

"..."

"Of all the times it has to go off..."

With a distinct "hmph", he shuts off the infernal device for good, and wipes his eyes with a yawn. He lies back down, but can't find himself going back to sleep.

He grunts, and sits up again, staring out the window at the moon.

The moonlight shines in his face, as if representing some sort of deep and elusive symbolism that his young adolescent mind isn't too keen on trying to decipher.

He instead just scratches his visor-less hair with a puzzled expression. When not pushed up by the mixed-reception of a hat, it always falls flat, covering his entire head in an unruly, moppy, hazelnut mess.

"I'm not really getting the metaphor here..."

As if by some sort of godly coincidence, a small muffled noise is let out to his right.

Turning around, he sees a petite girl sleeping in his bed, and then remembers his current dynamic with her.

Rosa. Hugging her Nate doll, no less.

Her undone hair is more of a mess than his, it had to reach down to her thighs, practically the entire side of her half of the bed was covered in her Rapunzel-esque hair.

"Why doesn't she tame that..?" he whispers to no one in particular.

He turns to the moon, "You could have given me the answer in a more subtle way, y'know."

He lies back then, and then shifts his eyes. After all, sweet things aren't necessarily his thing, and he doesn't take much enjoyment in being blatant about it.

After confirming that no one is spying on him, he lays a hand on the doll resembling himself.

And he promptly tosses it aside, it lands near the basket-beds of Oshawott and Snivy.

"Get the hell out of here." he remarks with a tone which lacks remorse.

Shifting his eyes again, he detects no one, so he gives the sleeping girl a quick lip-peck, and then proceeds to embrace her, as well as intertwine his legs with her's.

He falls back to sleep with his symbolic metaphor of a maiden, taking in her ironic scent of roses. His last words are out of embarrassment.

"Whatever."