Lily
you were the one.
The Curse of the Golden Pokéball
Don't...ask. o_o Be warned. Story contains absolutely no moral significance, stunning descriptions or captivating plot whatsoever. It DOES contain, however, some offensive language and an extremely cliché title.
The Curse of the Golden Pokéball
“Hey, over here!”
The boy stopped walking. After a quick glance at his surroundings, he resumed his pace, convinced the voice was targeting someone else.
“I said over here!”
The boy jerked his head up towards the voice’s origin, coming in eye contact with a short, stubby man. Something was fishy about the way he let out a toothy grin, matching the flicker of greed darting past his sharp eyes.
“I have a deal to make, kid,” the man proclaimed, widening his grin. “It’s a one-in-a-lifetime offer. This kind of deal may never come again for as long as you live.”
He must be one of those crazy salespeople mom told me about, the boy thought absentmindedly. He shook his head and continued walking.
“You’re walking away from a gold mine, kid!” the man shouted.
The boy walked.
“C’mon, your friends will all be impressed! This thing is practically worth millions!”
The boy walked.
“Plus, it’s an exclusive state-of-the-art rare Pokémon!”
The boy stopped walking.
Snagged.
“Don’t you want to be the envy of all trainers?”
Just reel’im in.
Nice and slow.
“What Pokémon?” the boy asked, pivoting, his curiosity piqued. The salesman let out a wickedly amused grin. From behind the booth he whipped out a perfect gold sphere. At a closer glance, the boy realized at once what it was.
“This,” the salesman explained in a low, steady voice, “is a golden Pokéball. Inside it lays the most feared and rarest Pokémon of all.”
The boy’s eyes widened.
“Perhaps you have heard of it, perhaps you have not. Sailors claim the creature itself is the eighth wonder of the world! They tell legends and legends of this mythical water entity, and it is said to grant the user infinite strength and wealth!” He paused, confirming the boy’s captivation, before continuing on in rapid succession, “Son, do you know how many eggs a Magikarp lays? It lays precisely one thousand eggs, and when they hatch each one will lay a thousand more, and more, until you end up with millions of eggs in no time. And son, do you know what happens if you sell each and every one?”
The boy gulped, answering in a hushed voice, “A lot of money?”
“That’s right, boy! Millions and millions of cash, and it can be yours! Show your friends what you hauled in and strong Pokémon won’t even matter to you; you’ll be living in a mansion by then!” The salesman let out a booming laugh.
“Lucky for you, I have one left over,” he winked, holding up the golden Pokeball. “And it’s all yours, boy.”
“How much, sir?!” the boy cried out, fishing out his wallets within seconds. The man contemplated for a moment, before brightening up.
“For you, only 3000P. And let me tell you something...this price is relatively cheap compared to what I normally sell them by. But I’ll cut the price for you. I see it in your eyes, the true spirit of a trainer. I want this poor Magikarp to be prosperous to a good, well intentioned young man.”
The boy puffed up his chest a bit, commenting smugly, “Well, I do have three badges wi-”
“Yes, yes, I’m sure you do,” the salesman interrupted impatiently, snatching the wads of paper money out of the boy’s hand. He was about to hand over the golden Pokéball when he hesitated, remarking, “Be warned, though. This Pokéball itself is cursed and you’d be better off discarding it after you take care of the Magikarp.”
The boy scoffed, taking the Pokéball. “Sorry, mister. I don’t believe in superstitions.” Besides, he thought excitedly, the gold Pokéball is probably worth a lot of money, too!
The salesman shrugged, ready to leave. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, boy.”
“I won’t,” the boy retaliated, and ran off the way he came, eager to begin his first step in the career of monetary rewards and the luxury of life.
The man behind him grinned, packing up his things in one bundle, running off in the opposite direction. All the while he gleefully thought, I got meself a good batch today!
Three hours later, the boy was found dead in his own house. Policemen decided on a case of common household burglary. Evidently the thief had possessed a butcher’s knife at the time, judging from the boy’s mangled, deformed body.
“Pathetic, Bill,” one of them shook his head, idly jotting down a few notes whilst examining the victim’s mutilated body. “Apparently the kid tried to fight off a 196 lb adult with a Magikarp. Of course,” he motioned silently towards the small mound of bloody bones, “the poor thing never survived. I feel bad it had such an incompetent trainer.”
Bill thoughtfully rubbed his chin, before something sparkling caught his eye. “Hey, what’s that?” he asked, grunting as he bent down to pick up the shining object directly adjacent to the boy’s body. His eyes widened.
“It’s gold! It’s a gold Pokéball, Eric! L-Like, real gold!” The poor man, who never received more money than the limits of his measly paycheck, stuttered and couldn’t help his fingers from trembling violently. Eric smoothly snatched the Pokéball from his partner’s hand, inspecting it closely.
“Well, it looks like the real thing,” he sniffed, “but you know how salesmen rip us off these days. They’ll do anything to convince us that it’s real gold. Anyway, we need it for evidence later on.”
“B-But Eric,” Bill said weakly, “What if other people believe in it and pay big bucks for this? C’mon, we can go out for dinner tonight. Think about it!” he coaxed. “We can go to that new restaurant you’ve always wanted to go to.”
Eric’s eyes grew misty, allured and tempted by the idea. They hadn’t had a decent outing in a while, after all. Besides, there was no harm done. The kid was dead. Their job was done. It wasn’t technically considered ‘stealing.’
“Okay, okay, fine,” he snapped, finally acceding to his partner’s request. “What dumb Pokémon belongs in this Pokéball, anyway?” He twirled the shiny ball on his forefinger, deftly catching it before collapsing.
Bill meekly muttered, “Probably that Magikarp over ther-”
“Hah!” Bill flinched under his partner’s obnoxiously rude tone. “That disgusting red mess?” Eric scorned, “Damn vermin probably deserved it for being so helpless.”
“Eric,” Bill whined, “Don’t. It’s bad karma.”
“Karma! Bloody hell, do you still believe in that load of crap?” he huffed. “Bill, we’re done here. Let’s get out of here. I feel nauseous and I don’t want to give up my appetite for tonight.” He carelessly pointed at the door and headed out, thoroughly annoyed at his partner’s superstitious nature.
Bill reluctantly followed, still a bit apprehensive. Both reached their parked motorcycles specially designed for policemen. Eric carefully placed the Pokéball in his pocket, creating an odd, protruding shape. He then got on, starting the engine. Bill turned to him, puzzled.
“Aren’t you going to put on your helmet?”
Eric rolled his eyes. “Are you kidding me? The police station isn’t that far away; all we need to do is pass that big mountain road. Besides, no one’s on the road at this time of day,” he said dryly.
Bill shrugged as he clasped his own helmet on. One of these days, he thought darkly, it’ll be too late for regrets.
They drove wordlessly out of town, Eric going farther ahead than usual. When the mountain pass came into view, a wicked idea crept into his mind. It was wrong, he knew, but the idea was too inviting. As soon as they arrived on the long stretch of the road, he put his plan into play. Without a drop if explanation, he pushed the vehicle to 150 mph, exhilarated at the sensation of rushing wind.
Bill, on the other hand, stared in disbelief. Eric was going well over a hundred. As a policeman, he knew very well the speed limit here was, at maximum, 60 mph.
“Eric! You know that’s dangero-”
The complete phrase never really got out properly. Bill could only watch wordlessly as his partner flew gloriously off the motorcycle, landing in a ditch.
“Well, we’ve completed the analysis,” the doctor said in a queer voice. Bill glumly nodded, waiting for him to continue. “The truth is, your partner was dead before he even reached the ditch. It was a freak accident, you see. He hit a seed that got caught in the wind. Due to the insanely high speed he was traveling at, it pierced through his cornea and went directly to his brain, killing him instantly.”
The doctor sighed heavily.
“Sad thing is, it would have been prevented if he had only worn a helmet.”
Don't...ask. o_o Be warned. Story contains absolutely no moral significance, stunning descriptions or captivating plot whatsoever. It DOES contain, however, some offensive language and an extremely cliché title.
The Curse of the Golden Pokéball
Part I
“Hey, over here!”
The boy stopped walking. After a quick glance at his surroundings, he resumed his pace, convinced the voice was targeting someone else.
“I said over here!”
The boy jerked his head up towards the voice’s origin, coming in eye contact with a short, stubby man. Something was fishy about the way he let out a toothy grin, matching the flicker of greed darting past his sharp eyes.
“I have a deal to make, kid,” the man proclaimed, widening his grin. “It’s a one-in-a-lifetime offer. This kind of deal may never come again for as long as you live.”
He must be one of those crazy salespeople mom told me about, the boy thought absentmindedly. He shook his head and continued walking.
“You’re walking away from a gold mine, kid!” the man shouted.
The boy walked.
“C’mon, your friends will all be impressed! This thing is practically worth millions!”
The boy walked.
“Plus, it’s an exclusive state-of-the-art rare Pokémon!”
The boy stopped walking.
Snagged.
“Don’t you want to be the envy of all trainers?”
Just reel’im in.
Nice and slow.
“What Pokémon?” the boy asked, pivoting, his curiosity piqued. The salesman let out a wickedly amused grin. From behind the booth he whipped out a perfect gold sphere. At a closer glance, the boy realized at once what it was.
“This,” the salesman explained in a low, steady voice, “is a golden Pokéball. Inside it lays the most feared and rarest Pokémon of all.”
The boy’s eyes widened.
“Perhaps you have heard of it, perhaps you have not. Sailors claim the creature itself is the eighth wonder of the world! They tell legends and legends of this mythical water entity, and it is said to grant the user infinite strength and wealth!” He paused, confirming the boy’s captivation, before continuing on in rapid succession, “Son, do you know how many eggs a Magikarp lays? It lays precisely one thousand eggs, and when they hatch each one will lay a thousand more, and more, until you end up with millions of eggs in no time. And son, do you know what happens if you sell each and every one?”
The boy gulped, answering in a hushed voice, “A lot of money?”
“That’s right, boy! Millions and millions of cash, and it can be yours! Show your friends what you hauled in and strong Pokémon won’t even matter to you; you’ll be living in a mansion by then!” The salesman let out a booming laugh.
“Lucky for you, I have one left over,” he winked, holding up the golden Pokeball. “And it’s all yours, boy.”
“How much, sir?!” the boy cried out, fishing out his wallets within seconds. The man contemplated for a moment, before brightening up.
“For you, only 3000P. And let me tell you something...this price is relatively cheap compared to what I normally sell them by. But I’ll cut the price for you. I see it in your eyes, the true spirit of a trainer. I want this poor Magikarp to be prosperous to a good, well intentioned young man.”
The boy puffed up his chest a bit, commenting smugly, “Well, I do have three badges wi-”
“Yes, yes, I’m sure you do,” the salesman interrupted impatiently, snatching the wads of paper money out of the boy’s hand. He was about to hand over the golden Pokéball when he hesitated, remarking, “Be warned, though. This Pokéball itself is cursed and you’d be better off discarding it after you take care of the Magikarp.”
The boy scoffed, taking the Pokéball. “Sorry, mister. I don’t believe in superstitions.” Besides, he thought excitedly, the gold Pokéball is probably worth a lot of money, too!
The salesman shrugged, ready to leave. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, boy.”
“I won’t,” the boy retaliated, and ran off the way he came, eager to begin his first step in the career of monetary rewards and the luxury of life.
The man behind him grinned, packing up his things in one bundle, running off in the opposite direction. All the while he gleefully thought, I got meself a good batch today!
Three hours later, the boy was found dead in his own house. Policemen decided on a case of common household burglary. Evidently the thief had possessed a butcher’s knife at the time, judging from the boy’s mangled, deformed body.
“Pathetic, Bill,” one of them shook his head, idly jotting down a few notes whilst examining the victim’s mutilated body. “Apparently the kid tried to fight off a 196 lb adult with a Magikarp. Of course,” he motioned silently towards the small mound of bloody bones, “the poor thing never survived. I feel bad it had such an incompetent trainer.”
Bill thoughtfully rubbed his chin, before something sparkling caught his eye. “Hey, what’s that?” he asked, grunting as he bent down to pick up the shining object directly adjacent to the boy’s body. His eyes widened.
“It’s gold! It’s a gold Pokéball, Eric! L-Like, real gold!” The poor man, who never received more money than the limits of his measly paycheck, stuttered and couldn’t help his fingers from trembling violently. Eric smoothly snatched the Pokéball from his partner’s hand, inspecting it closely.
“Well, it looks like the real thing,” he sniffed, “but you know how salesmen rip us off these days. They’ll do anything to convince us that it’s real gold. Anyway, we need it for evidence later on.”
“B-But Eric,” Bill said weakly, “What if other people believe in it and pay big bucks for this? C’mon, we can go out for dinner tonight. Think about it!” he coaxed. “We can go to that new restaurant you’ve always wanted to go to.”
Eric’s eyes grew misty, allured and tempted by the idea. They hadn’t had a decent outing in a while, after all. Besides, there was no harm done. The kid was dead. Their job was done. It wasn’t technically considered ‘stealing.’
“Okay, okay, fine,” he snapped, finally acceding to his partner’s request. “What dumb Pokémon belongs in this Pokéball, anyway?” He twirled the shiny ball on his forefinger, deftly catching it before collapsing.
Bill meekly muttered, “Probably that Magikarp over ther-”
“Hah!” Bill flinched under his partner’s obnoxiously rude tone. “That disgusting red mess?” Eric scorned, “Damn vermin probably deserved it for being so helpless.”
“Eric,” Bill whined, “Don’t. It’s bad karma.”
“Karma! Bloody hell, do you still believe in that load of crap?” he huffed. “Bill, we’re done here. Let’s get out of here. I feel nauseous and I don’t want to give up my appetite for tonight.” He carelessly pointed at the door and headed out, thoroughly annoyed at his partner’s superstitious nature.
Bill reluctantly followed, still a bit apprehensive. Both reached their parked motorcycles specially designed for policemen. Eric carefully placed the Pokéball in his pocket, creating an odd, protruding shape. He then got on, starting the engine. Bill turned to him, puzzled.
“Aren’t you going to put on your helmet?”
Eric rolled his eyes. “Are you kidding me? The police station isn’t that far away; all we need to do is pass that big mountain road. Besides, no one’s on the road at this time of day,” he said dryly.
Bill shrugged as he clasped his own helmet on. One of these days, he thought darkly, it’ll be too late for regrets.
They drove wordlessly out of town, Eric going farther ahead than usual. When the mountain pass came into view, a wicked idea crept into his mind. It was wrong, he knew, but the idea was too inviting. As soon as they arrived on the long stretch of the road, he put his plan into play. Without a drop if explanation, he pushed the vehicle to 150 mph, exhilarated at the sensation of rushing wind.
Bill, on the other hand, stared in disbelief. Eric was going well over a hundred. As a policeman, he knew very well the speed limit here was, at maximum, 60 mph.
“Eric! You know that’s dangero-”
The complete phrase never really got out properly. Bill could only watch wordlessly as his partner flew gloriously off the motorcycle, landing in a ditch.
“Well, we’ve completed the analysis,” the doctor said in a queer voice. Bill glumly nodded, waiting for him to continue. “The truth is, your partner was dead before he even reached the ditch. It was a freak accident, you see. He hit a seed that got caught in the wind. Due to the insanely high speed he was traveling at, it pierced through his cornea and went directly to his brain, killing him instantly.”
The doctor sighed heavily.
“Sad thing is, it would have been prevented if he had only worn a helmet.”
End Part I
