I posted this in my livejournal, didnt really like it, but now I like it a bit more. This was one of those spur of the moment things, it's not really meant to be taken seriously or anything. Do feel free to critisize my writing. I've always wanted to write a hardcore OT Parody and I know its getting kinda old now so I just decided to cram this last one through, that was loosely planned to be a part of my dead fic, A Very Special Pokemon.
Oh and don't read this if you have a weak stomach.
Sleep. Slumber. The daily death. A tentacle-flailing beast slowly creeping its way into the skull from the very bowels where it lurks, eager to feast upon the emotions of human beings. The myth of sleep is simply a ruse, a physical attack by the beast as he slowly devours our humanity until one day it can slurp no longer. Some say dreams are the visions of the hidden third eye, stimulated by the beast’s pulsating tentacles. Others say they’re the brain in their fleeting attempt to defeat the beast. Others say that the beast too is a dream, and nothing exists.
But what do dreams and sleep matter? Jimmy Rocheemy was put to bed strictly at 10 PM in the night and didn’t care about much to dream. Except for pokemon. Strong pokemon. Ones with large wings, and mighty claws. Ones that destroy cities with a single blow. And pokemon masterhood. And the occasional girl here and there. For cooties is also a myth. He doesn’t realize it quite yet, the beast still has one of its slimy tentacles wrapped around his libido. A faint sound entered into the realm of dreams, hurling the pokemon and girls back to the void where they belong.
“Jimmy…”
Such a heavenly voice, but why must he listen...the beast’s tentacles are so soft…
”Jimmy…”
The tentacles unfurl, but Jimmy stays. He doesn’t want to leave the beast.
“Jimmy? WAKE UP JIMMY!”
Needless to say, no one cares what Jimmy wants.
Little Jimmy Rocheemy’s un-shockingly bland brown eyes immediately squelched open at the sound of his brainless mother’s high-pitched shriek. Jerking upwards, the boy gave a great big yawn as he rubbed the lingering gunk from his eyelids and shook his head like a wet Poocheyena, the lingering tentacles severing. Jimmy was a rather average looking kid with messy brown hair and normal sized muscles and a good old regular 4’10” height for a ten year old. Before he could even get out of his bed, a tray laden with breakfast food crushed his waist and a spoon full of milky Cheerios pierced its way into his mouth. When he finally saw his mother in her typical apron smiling unnaturally at him, he found himself already halfway done with the bowl Cheerios being spoon-fed to him, and the cholesterol slowly melting away from his heart (or so he believed).
“Mom! Leave me alone, I can eat by myself! Today is the day I get to become a pokemon trainer, right?” Jimmy cried in protest as his mother tried to shove a sixth spoonful of cereal down his throat.
“It sure diddly is, Sweetyumpkins! Just finish up your breakfast, brush your teeth, get ready and I’m sure Professor Treeoflife will still have a pokemon ready for you when you leave!”
“Of course he will, Mom! It’s….OH NO! IT’S ALREADY TEN! I’M THREE HOURS LATE! MOMM, WHY DIDN’T YOU WAKE ME UP?”
“How am I supposed to know? I set your alarm clock, and I was too busy sitting on the couch staring at the wall to notice that you pressed Snooze ‘til now. Oh well! Now, finish up your grapefruit!”
“No time for grapefruit, Mom! I have to go now, or else I won’t get a pokemon!” Jimmy said, attempting to get out of his bed before finding his mother’s rather soft hand come down fiercely on his leg, pinning him in place.
“I said, finish up your grapefruit,” Mrs. Rocheemy muttered murderously, her green eyes blazing silently. Jimmy gulped in terror; not even an army of Mewtwo could defeat his mother if she demanded that they each ate a grapefruit.
Five minutes later, Jimmy Rocheemy finished his grapefruit, brushed his teeth for two minutes (sixty seconds on the top and sixty seconds on the bottom), used mouth wash, and got dressed in his mother’s hand-picked clothes to be ready in time to get on his bike and pedal as quickly as he could to Professor Treeoflife’s laboratory, conveniently located only a block away.
“PROFESSOR TREEOFLIFE! I’M HERE I’M HERE! ARE THERE STILL ANY POKEMON LEFT!?!?!” Jimmy shouted, rudely running into the building with his mud-covered shoes. He knocked over several aides on his way to the end of the lab where the old professor sat in his desk at his computer, chatting away with a young boy on AIM.
“Oh, hello…ermm, Timmy is it?” Professor Treeoflife greeted, nervously turning his computer monitor away from sight.
“I’m so sorry, Proffesor! I woke up late cos my mom didn’t wake me up, and the alarm clock didn’t work and then I had to eat some grapefruit and use mouthwash, but I’m here now so can I please get my pokemon pretty pretty please!” Jimmy pleaded in one breath, turning redder with each word.
“Calm down now, Timmy! Don’t worry, this seems to happen every single year, so don’t worry there is still one very awesome pokemon left for you to take! Come on down to my cellar with me!” Treeoflife reassured, standing up and patting Jimmy on his back for rather too long.
“The name’s Jimmy, and aren’t the pokeballs over there?” Jimmy huffed, pointing to the small table with three pokeballs.
“Oh…right I suppose.”
They moved over to Pokeball Table where Professor Treeoflife showed Jimmy each pokeball and described the pokemon that was inside it. Or was once inside it.
“This left one contained an Eevee. That sweet-heart darling Patricia who you’ve known since you were four and secretly like took him because he was so cute. The middle one contains a Shiny Larvitar. My tough-guy bully grandson Garth who will most likely be your rival of sorts took it because he was going to become big and strong. And the last one is none other than a Dratini, which was taken by some guy not worth mentioning!” Professor Treeoflife droned, placing the last empty pokeball back on the table and grinning jovially down at Timmy—err Jimmy.
“Uhh, so where’s this pokemon that is supposed to be mine?”
“Oh right, it’s custom to rub the ones that you didn’t get in first…Well, here she is!” The Professor walked over to the garbage bin (loaded to the brim with old Doritos bag) near his computer and pulled out a cheese-stained pokeball from within in and handed it to Jimmy who looked at it rather sadly. Unenthusiastically, Jimmy tossed the pokeball towards the ground, where it released a flying pokeball that looked like it just crawled out of a sewer.
“Spearow! Spearow!”
Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be a small, very filthy bird pokemon called Spearow, judging by the name is repeatedly chirped. It hopped around the room, flapping its grimy wings in a half-arsed attempt to fly. One of its eyes was lazy, one of its wings was shorter than the other, and its talons seemed to be covered in its own feces.
“I thought you said this pokemon was going to be very awesome,” Jimmy groaned in annoyance at the rather pathetic looking pokemon that surveyed him for several seconds and shrieking whenever he blinked.
“Oh, but this pokemon is very awesome indeed! For you see, this Spearow has psychic powers! But they can’t be controlled nor will we know what they can do. LOOK! He’s raising my hand right now!” Treeoflife began to raise a quivering hand half-heartedly, and turning magenta as he tried to stop the awesome powers of the Psychic Spearow. “Hey! She just made you blink!”
“Professor, I’m ten years old, not ten months old,” a disgruntled Jimmy spat, surveying his new pokemon with disgust once more, it shrieking with mirth at him blinking once more.
“Kid, either take the pokemon or he’s going down my sink’s garbage disposal.”
“Couldja PLEASE shut up?” Jimmy snapped as the annoying bird that he appropriately deemed “Stanky”. Stanky had burst out into another chirping frenzy at the sight of a Wurmple. He hadn’t bothered to the visit his mother when leaving the laboratory; he just wanted to get his pokemon journey over and down with and go back home to be one of those guys who stands around in his house all day and says one line of dialogue to visiting trainers.
It had been nearly four hours after he received Stanky from Professor Treeoflife, and he was all packed up and ready for his journey! He was riding his bike slowly through the thick Firenze Forest while Stanky flew lop-sided besides him in his attempt to get to Red-orange City, where he would have his first badge battle. His calves were very weak from constant peddling on the upward slope, and finally he decided to walk the rest of the way, miraculously stuffing his bike in his tiny backpack. Surely by the night’s end he would meet his secret love and rival, so his solitude would only be temporarily. After a good fifteen minutes, Stanky finally shut up and there was peaceful, golden silence.
Suddenly, a sudden movement came from one of the nearby bushes, causing the incredibly boredom of the journey to disappear in a flash. Jimmy, magically regaining all his drained energy, instinctively ran towards the bush, where the source of the movement leaped out at him. It was a large, frightening green insect pokemon. It was a 6 foot tall towering menace: a mantis pokemon with powerful joints and very prominent, very long sharp scythes in place of hands. The insect growled maniacally, saliva dripping from his strong jaws as he glared at the boy, signaling with his scythes to get away. Now.
But the stupid boy did not get away. Whereas normal human beings would have run for it long ago, little Jimmy decided to take out his PokeDex and scan the Scyther instead.
“Scyther, the mantis pokemon. Its scythes are really really really really sharp.”
“Oh cool! I’m going to catch this pokemon! Stanky, come over here!” Jimmy declared, not noticing that the Scyther was slowly advancing toward him, his sharp scythes gleaming in the sunlight.
Stanky made no response. Jimmy turned around to yell at the pokemon more, but he was no where in sight. He did not have to wonder where the Spearow went for too long because a loud squawking from overhead signaled that even Stanky had enough sense to get away as quickly as he could. As Jimmy watched the bird disappear into the mask of the clouds (and plummeting soon after), he felt absolutely no pang of pity or no reason to miss the pokemon at all. He would have a new, much more powerful pokemon that would crush Garth and make Patricia swoon all over him.
“Well, I guess I’ll have to do this the old-fashioned way! Say, Buddy, how would you like to join me?” Jimmy requisitioned, holding his hand out to the Scyther that was dangerously close to him, snarling down with absolute disgust and bloodlust in his eyes. For a second, he surveyed Jimmy and his cheesy grin and attempt to handshake. In another second, with a quick swipe of his right scythe, the Scyther decapitated poor Jimmy Rocheemy.
The cut was clean, quick, and smooth. Jimmy never even knew what happened, his wide-eyed head fell right off and started to tumble down the slope, probably to be discovered by a very hungry Rattata in a few minutes. His headless body stood there for a few seconds, wobbling slowly as his arms automatically clutched the scarlet-spurting stump that was once a head. Finally, the body of Jimmy fell backwards and just laid there; bleeding itself dry from the stump. A few pieces of bone still jutted from it. Not all that interested in a mutilated carcass, the Scyther gave the body a nice nudge with his foot, and it immediately followed the head in a tumble down the hill, leaving a trail of shimmering blood behind it.
Scyther gave a snort of amusement as he lapped up the blood from his scythe that hadn’t dripped away, leaving it as clean as it was before. There was no evidence to the crime; no one would ever know what he did. He was still quite hungry; the blood of human children was far too sugary for his tastes, and so he returned into the depths of the forest. That Spearow did look like an awfully tasty afternoon snack. The remains of little Jimmy Rocheemy could still be seen at the bottom of the slope, already attracting a great deal of flies. The beast had evaporated; what little brainpower it could absorb was gone forever. Surely enough, a Ratatta crawled by and began to nibble on the once-puffy red cheeks. As he took the first bite, he looked into the soul-less face of the stupid little boy.
He still had the same cheesy smile.
And there you have it, Kiddies. Thanks for reading. And this was based off of a line from Whirl Island Quest, FYI
Oh and don't read this if you have a weak stomach.
Sleep. Slumber. The daily death. A tentacle-flailing beast slowly creeping its way into the skull from the very bowels where it lurks, eager to feast upon the emotions of human beings. The myth of sleep is simply a ruse, a physical attack by the beast as he slowly devours our humanity until one day it can slurp no longer. Some say dreams are the visions of the hidden third eye, stimulated by the beast’s pulsating tentacles. Others say they’re the brain in their fleeting attempt to defeat the beast. Others say that the beast too is a dream, and nothing exists.
But what do dreams and sleep matter? Jimmy Rocheemy was put to bed strictly at 10 PM in the night and didn’t care about much to dream. Except for pokemon. Strong pokemon. Ones with large wings, and mighty claws. Ones that destroy cities with a single blow. And pokemon masterhood. And the occasional girl here and there. For cooties is also a myth. He doesn’t realize it quite yet, the beast still has one of its slimy tentacles wrapped around his libido. A faint sound entered into the realm of dreams, hurling the pokemon and girls back to the void where they belong.
“Jimmy…”
Such a heavenly voice, but why must he listen...the beast’s tentacles are so soft…
”Jimmy…”
The tentacles unfurl, but Jimmy stays. He doesn’t want to leave the beast.
“Jimmy? WAKE UP JIMMY!”
Needless to say, no one cares what Jimmy wants.
Little Jimmy Rocheemy’s un-shockingly bland brown eyes immediately squelched open at the sound of his brainless mother’s high-pitched shriek. Jerking upwards, the boy gave a great big yawn as he rubbed the lingering gunk from his eyelids and shook his head like a wet Poocheyena, the lingering tentacles severing. Jimmy was a rather average looking kid with messy brown hair and normal sized muscles and a good old regular 4’10” height for a ten year old. Before he could even get out of his bed, a tray laden with breakfast food crushed his waist and a spoon full of milky Cheerios pierced its way into his mouth. When he finally saw his mother in her typical apron smiling unnaturally at him, he found himself already halfway done with the bowl Cheerios being spoon-fed to him, and the cholesterol slowly melting away from his heart (or so he believed).
“Mom! Leave me alone, I can eat by myself! Today is the day I get to become a pokemon trainer, right?” Jimmy cried in protest as his mother tried to shove a sixth spoonful of cereal down his throat.
“It sure diddly is, Sweetyumpkins! Just finish up your breakfast, brush your teeth, get ready and I’m sure Professor Treeoflife will still have a pokemon ready for you when you leave!”
“Of course he will, Mom! It’s….OH NO! IT’S ALREADY TEN! I’M THREE HOURS LATE! MOMM, WHY DIDN’T YOU WAKE ME UP?”
“How am I supposed to know? I set your alarm clock, and I was too busy sitting on the couch staring at the wall to notice that you pressed Snooze ‘til now. Oh well! Now, finish up your grapefruit!”
“No time for grapefruit, Mom! I have to go now, or else I won’t get a pokemon!” Jimmy said, attempting to get out of his bed before finding his mother’s rather soft hand come down fiercely on his leg, pinning him in place.
“I said, finish up your grapefruit,” Mrs. Rocheemy muttered murderously, her green eyes blazing silently. Jimmy gulped in terror; not even an army of Mewtwo could defeat his mother if she demanded that they each ate a grapefruit.
Five minutes later, Jimmy Rocheemy finished his grapefruit, brushed his teeth for two minutes (sixty seconds on the top and sixty seconds on the bottom), used mouth wash, and got dressed in his mother’s hand-picked clothes to be ready in time to get on his bike and pedal as quickly as he could to Professor Treeoflife’s laboratory, conveniently located only a block away.
“PROFESSOR TREEOFLIFE! I’M HERE I’M HERE! ARE THERE STILL ANY POKEMON LEFT!?!?!” Jimmy shouted, rudely running into the building with his mud-covered shoes. He knocked over several aides on his way to the end of the lab where the old professor sat in his desk at his computer, chatting away with a young boy on AIM.
“Oh, hello…ermm, Timmy is it?” Professor Treeoflife greeted, nervously turning his computer monitor away from sight.
“I’m so sorry, Proffesor! I woke up late cos my mom didn’t wake me up, and the alarm clock didn’t work and then I had to eat some grapefruit and use mouthwash, but I’m here now so can I please get my pokemon pretty pretty please!” Jimmy pleaded in one breath, turning redder with each word.
“Calm down now, Timmy! Don’t worry, this seems to happen every single year, so don’t worry there is still one very awesome pokemon left for you to take! Come on down to my cellar with me!” Treeoflife reassured, standing up and patting Jimmy on his back for rather too long.
“The name’s Jimmy, and aren’t the pokeballs over there?” Jimmy huffed, pointing to the small table with three pokeballs.
“Oh…right I suppose.”
They moved over to Pokeball Table where Professor Treeoflife showed Jimmy each pokeball and described the pokemon that was inside it. Or was once inside it.
“This left one contained an Eevee. That sweet-heart darling Patricia who you’ve known since you were four and secretly like took him because he was so cute. The middle one contains a Shiny Larvitar. My tough-guy bully grandson Garth who will most likely be your rival of sorts took it because he was going to become big and strong. And the last one is none other than a Dratini, which was taken by some guy not worth mentioning!” Professor Treeoflife droned, placing the last empty pokeball back on the table and grinning jovially down at Timmy—err Jimmy.
“Uhh, so where’s this pokemon that is supposed to be mine?”
“Oh right, it’s custom to rub the ones that you didn’t get in first…Well, here she is!” The Professor walked over to the garbage bin (loaded to the brim with old Doritos bag) near his computer and pulled out a cheese-stained pokeball from within in and handed it to Jimmy who looked at it rather sadly. Unenthusiastically, Jimmy tossed the pokeball towards the ground, where it released a flying pokeball that looked like it just crawled out of a sewer.
“Spearow! Spearow!”
Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be a small, very filthy bird pokemon called Spearow, judging by the name is repeatedly chirped. It hopped around the room, flapping its grimy wings in a half-arsed attempt to fly. One of its eyes was lazy, one of its wings was shorter than the other, and its talons seemed to be covered in its own feces.
“I thought you said this pokemon was going to be very awesome,” Jimmy groaned in annoyance at the rather pathetic looking pokemon that surveyed him for several seconds and shrieking whenever he blinked.
“Oh, but this pokemon is very awesome indeed! For you see, this Spearow has psychic powers! But they can’t be controlled nor will we know what they can do. LOOK! He’s raising my hand right now!” Treeoflife began to raise a quivering hand half-heartedly, and turning magenta as he tried to stop the awesome powers of the Psychic Spearow. “Hey! She just made you blink!”
“Professor, I’m ten years old, not ten months old,” a disgruntled Jimmy spat, surveying his new pokemon with disgust once more, it shrieking with mirth at him blinking once more.
“Kid, either take the pokemon or he’s going down my sink’s garbage disposal.”
*****
“Couldja PLEASE shut up?” Jimmy snapped as the annoying bird that he appropriately deemed “Stanky”. Stanky had burst out into another chirping frenzy at the sight of a Wurmple. He hadn’t bothered to the visit his mother when leaving the laboratory; he just wanted to get his pokemon journey over and down with and go back home to be one of those guys who stands around in his house all day and says one line of dialogue to visiting trainers.
It had been nearly four hours after he received Stanky from Professor Treeoflife, and he was all packed up and ready for his journey! He was riding his bike slowly through the thick Firenze Forest while Stanky flew lop-sided besides him in his attempt to get to Red-orange City, where he would have his first badge battle. His calves were very weak from constant peddling on the upward slope, and finally he decided to walk the rest of the way, miraculously stuffing his bike in his tiny backpack. Surely by the night’s end he would meet his secret love and rival, so his solitude would only be temporarily. After a good fifteen minutes, Stanky finally shut up and there was peaceful, golden silence.
Suddenly, a sudden movement came from one of the nearby bushes, causing the incredibly boredom of the journey to disappear in a flash. Jimmy, magically regaining all his drained energy, instinctively ran towards the bush, where the source of the movement leaped out at him. It was a large, frightening green insect pokemon. It was a 6 foot tall towering menace: a mantis pokemon with powerful joints and very prominent, very long sharp scythes in place of hands. The insect growled maniacally, saliva dripping from his strong jaws as he glared at the boy, signaling with his scythes to get away. Now.
But the stupid boy did not get away. Whereas normal human beings would have run for it long ago, little Jimmy decided to take out his PokeDex and scan the Scyther instead.
“Scyther, the mantis pokemon. Its scythes are really really really really sharp.”
“Oh cool! I’m going to catch this pokemon! Stanky, come over here!” Jimmy declared, not noticing that the Scyther was slowly advancing toward him, his sharp scythes gleaming in the sunlight.
Stanky made no response. Jimmy turned around to yell at the pokemon more, but he was no where in sight. He did not have to wonder where the Spearow went for too long because a loud squawking from overhead signaled that even Stanky had enough sense to get away as quickly as he could. As Jimmy watched the bird disappear into the mask of the clouds (and plummeting soon after), he felt absolutely no pang of pity or no reason to miss the pokemon at all. He would have a new, much more powerful pokemon that would crush Garth and make Patricia swoon all over him.
“Well, I guess I’ll have to do this the old-fashioned way! Say, Buddy, how would you like to join me?” Jimmy requisitioned, holding his hand out to the Scyther that was dangerously close to him, snarling down with absolute disgust and bloodlust in his eyes. For a second, he surveyed Jimmy and his cheesy grin and attempt to handshake. In another second, with a quick swipe of his right scythe, the Scyther decapitated poor Jimmy Rocheemy.
The cut was clean, quick, and smooth. Jimmy never even knew what happened, his wide-eyed head fell right off and started to tumble down the slope, probably to be discovered by a very hungry Rattata in a few minutes. His headless body stood there for a few seconds, wobbling slowly as his arms automatically clutched the scarlet-spurting stump that was once a head. Finally, the body of Jimmy fell backwards and just laid there; bleeding itself dry from the stump. A few pieces of bone still jutted from it. Not all that interested in a mutilated carcass, the Scyther gave the body a nice nudge with his foot, and it immediately followed the head in a tumble down the hill, leaving a trail of shimmering blood behind it.
Scyther gave a snort of amusement as he lapped up the blood from his scythe that hadn’t dripped away, leaving it as clean as it was before. There was no evidence to the crime; no one would ever know what he did. He was still quite hungry; the blood of human children was far too sugary for his tastes, and so he returned into the depths of the forest. That Spearow did look like an awfully tasty afternoon snack. The remains of little Jimmy Rocheemy could still be seen at the bottom of the slope, already attracting a great deal of flies. The beast had evaporated; what little brainpower it could absorb was gone forever. Surely enough, a Ratatta crawled by and began to nibble on the once-puffy red cheeks. As he took the first bite, he looked into the soul-less face of the stupid little boy.
He still had the same cheesy smile.
And there you have it, Kiddies. Thanks for reading. And this was based off of a line from Whirl Island Quest, FYI
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