[T] A Rocket's Diary [IC]
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March 10th, 2013 (7:25 PM).
“Hello Mister Gordito!” a small child called from his tricycle.
Ernest waved, glad to see the little munchkin still remembered him. It had been a few weeks since his last greeting, and he had gotten worried that the kid outgrew being friendly.
Ernest was a familiar presence in the town, since he often took regular jaunts to the local restaurant- Bojanglies. Ernest was possibly the only Team Rocket member that could walk the streets without unfriendly glares. Those that knew him, though disapproving of his actions, enjoyed his presence, however fleeting it was. He was a permanent and moving part of the landscape, since he had very little enmity with any of the residents.
He was tempted to stop at Bojanglies or one of the many shops selling donuts that were scattered around town. There was just one thing stopping him- the fact that the Warden would think he's the murderer if he didn't do what he said. He was probably being watched right now, both by Team Rocket and the other E8 members. If he were to goof off, they would know about it.
Barely had this thought crossed his mind when he noticed a certain blue-haired character heading to Route 34- it was Scyke. Perfect. The guy looked like he knew what he was doing, and best of all knew where he was going. Those were two things that Ernest's brain seemed to be missing at the moment. If he followed him, maybe he could discover how to battle and capture Pokémon.
Ernest knew he needed a clever disguise in order to pull it off. He jumped into the nearest store, grabbing five Poké Balls and ripping a fake beard off the shelf. Then he ran off without another word, knowing that no one would dare stop a Team Rocket member.
He ducked into a nearby bush and took off his Rocket uniform. Then he strapped his new beard to his face, giggling to himself at how clever he was. After all was said and done, he was wearing black sweatpants with red suspenders that traveled up and around his squishy body. He had a bushy, white beard and black tennis shoes with a small R sewn on it. He didn't have a shirt on, but as long as he was in Team Rocket, he didn't even need shoes and he'd still get service.
Before running after Mister Murkrow, he reached into his uniform and pulled out his pocketknife. He stuffed it into his hungry belly-button and then began his waddle toward Route 34. He never felt comfortable without at least one knife with him at all times- a remnant habit from his years as a potato-peeler in the kitchen.
Yuppers, the guy seemed in a big hurry for some reason. Maybe he wanted to capture a Pokémon first so he could ally with the evil lady. It was always good to have an evil person on your side- they would never, ever betray their friends, right? Maybe he might wait until Scyke returned before going back. Ernest had no intention of being associated with Miss Wicked Wiles.
He left town with a caravan of people behind him cheering for him. They shouted encouragement like “put a shirt on” and “gross”, no doubt poking fun at the fact that Pokémon never wore shirts. As he took his last, tired steps out of the city boundaries, he waved them all a thankful goodbye. Blue Boy was nowhere to be found, so he skipped merrily into the grass, searching for a new Pokémon to catch.
It only took a few seconds before... he got bored. Noticing that there was a Pokémon Day Care just a little distance away, he walked inside.
The old lady greeted him at the door. “Welcome to the Pokémon- HOLY CELEBI PUT A SHIRT ON!”
Ernest chuckled, dismissing the idea with a wave of his hand. “Oh, you silly old person. You're just like all the people in town- silly as a Slowpoke. I'm here on official business, so I don't have too much time to talk.”
“Thank goodness for that.”
“I need to steal one of the Pokémon you have in storage.”
“Excuse me?” she asked in utter disbelief.
“I'm going to go in the back and just capture one of the Pokémon I see there. Please don't stop me because then I'll have to sic my candle on you.”
“Your candle? Uh... you know what, I think it's time to you leave. Now.”
The Daycare Lady grabbed the nearby broom and began to wave it threateningly, hoping cheap straw attached to a stick would scare a man twice her size. She jabbed at his engorged stomach to push him back. He didn't move.
“I guess my Litwick's gonna get ya. You better run, lady.”
He grabbed the solitary ball hanging on his belt and smashed it on the ground, releasing the candle Pokémon. She opened her bright yellow eye and looked at Ernest expectantly, waiting for an order.
“Hey Litwick! Go kick her butt while I find you a nice friend to play with.”
The Daycare Lady stepped back, brandishing her broom in horror. Ernest giggled as he passed by her without any trouble. She was too busy fending for her life to worry about some little Pokémon being kidnapped.
He whipped open the door to the Pokémon playground. Dozens of little eyes turned to look at the sudden intruder. The happy little critters stopped playing to stare up in fear at the large man who was invading their home.
“Hey, ya little rascals! C'mere and give your uncle Juanito a hug!”
All of the Pokémon ran as far as the could from the towering figure- all except one. It was a curious little Ralts that peered up at the human with child-like trust. Brashly underestimating Ernest's capabilities, he began walking toward him.
Ernest opened up a ball he had “bought” at the store and threw it at the creature. In a beam of light, the Pokémon was sucked into the capsule as the ball began shaking.
One... two... three...
Surprisingly, Ralts was caught without any problem. Maybe he wanted to be with the new trainer, or maybe he was too weak to resist capture. Either way, the Pokémon was caught in a new ball, and he had technically completed his mission.
“Alright!” he shouted, giving a fist pump in the air. “I caught a Ralts!”
He grabbed the ball and ran into the Daycare.
“Okay! I got what I wanted, so I'm leaving now!”
Ernest stopped. The Daycare Lady was nowhere to be found. All that remained was a less-than-innocent-looking candle staring at Ernest with a chilling grin. What she could have done in only a few second was beyond him, so he decided not to think about it. What his Pokémon did was up to her, as long as it didn't mar his record too much. He still needed to stay as an E8 member to keep his tiny paycheck. Oh, and he still wanted to get promoted to whatever everyone else wanted- whatever that position was called.
He never noticed the half-singed remains of a sweeping broom lying behind the desk. His nose was too clogged up to smell the horrid smell. He never even looked up to see the thick plume of smoke above his head. Even if he had, he might not have understood its significance.
He put Litwick back in her Poké Ball and began running back to base. He was already tired of the job, and was beginning to hate Pokémon too. They seemed to cause nothing but trouble.
Joined Mar 2013
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