[Pokémon] Shipping Satire: Proud to be your Slave

Hey everyone, I initially started this series on the Bulbagardens forum and I've decided to take it over here too in hopes of more critiques. I simply use this story to poke some good natured fun at the Pokemon anime and exploit some of the crevices and plot holes in the most recent storylines.

This is a romance/comedy/satire fanfic that takes place shortly after the tenth episode of Black and White. You know where Ash's generic, full-of-himself rival for the next season or two (Trip) is introduced and they duke it out. Proud to be your Slave centers around the snobbish Trip and his Servine, who conveniently is outright infatuated with Ash's Snivy after being velvet... er, I mean vine whipped by it.

My narrative also tackles the massive plot hole in the anime on how Trip had no idea who Ash was, contrary to Mr. Ketchum's numerous achievements which include winning every Pokemon League Championship known to mankind, defeating legendary pokemon, busting up international criminal syndicates and saving the world on multiple occasions. Yup, Ash is just some random kid from the boonies.

Anyway, here's the prologue! (And it may be cheesy but that catchy Boston song is an apt title for it.) Points for anyone who can spot the two Doctor Who references. Enjoy! ;)



Prologue: More Than a Feeling


"Pardon me, ma'am, but you're blocking my shot!" announced a five-foot tall photographer by the name of Trip as he deliberately shoved an old woman with a walker.

He fixed his lime green digital camera's lenses upon a gaggle of bird pokemon that were passing overhead.

"Ah, these are such fabulous specimens of Swall-OOUCH!" he screamed as the elderly female retaliated by ramming him with her walker. She than proceeded to batter him with the metal apparatus until he cried "GRANDMA!"

Five minutes later, Trip triumphantly limped about Castelia City in such a joyous, happy mood that not even a violent altercation with a blood thirsty ninety year old could possibly deter it. His joviality was all due to him winning a petty, little Pokemon match against a Living Legend. Of course, he had not known at the time that the stupid looking, 10 year old, hillbilly boy that had come all the way from that lawless poverty-stricken slum, Pallet Town and challenged him, was not only from a thoroughbred family of Pokemon masters; he was one.

All his life, Trip had heard simpletons gossiping over "the boy wonder" and saying moronic things like "Didja hear?! Some little kid named Alf Ketchup says he's going to conquer da Johto League Championship! HE'S SIMPLY MAD!" but he had no idea who they were babbling on about and he preferred not to congregate with such fools.

Trip also never watched the Unova news channels which were rife with coverage on the incredible traveling and battling feats of this little boy because he firmly believed it was all a bunch of corrupt lies administered by liberals like the heinous Vice President of the nation, Mr. Es Cade.

It took a quick search on his 'Pokenav Touch' after his battle with the mysterious hick child before Trip's ignorance was shattered. On a free encyclopedia with the bizarre name "Bulbapedia," Trip found veritable gold mine of knowledge and statistics on this one "Abe Keychain" that everyone and their Venusaur was clamoring about. He learned the kid was a total prodigy- his near infinite career victories had set a record that no doubt would be encased in stone sooner or later, he had captured more critters than Angelina Jolie, Paris Hilton and Lindsey Lohan combined, and he was the venerable A-Rod of Pokemon League Championships. (A small side note added that he had prevented the world from being completely annihilated a few times as well.) "Well, your regime of old has certainly fallen, Mr. Kit-Katcham, with your crushing defeat at my hand!" Trip said, gloating to himself while nursing the tiny cut he had received from the old woman's nail file. "It's about time I forced this geezer into retirement! Hee! Hee! Ha ha ha!"

Little did Trip know that this little country bumpkin had pity for the diminutive trainer he was with his massive anger management issues and an annoying superior complex. In truth, the Pallet Town native had chosen a clumsy, novice strategy during their battle on purpose. Why was this? The noble and always respectful Pokemon master, Ash H. Ketchum, was always highly sympathetic towards rookies, namely the arrogant ones who were too big for their britches and so insecure that they had to hire a professional cheer-leading squad to back up their confidence.

Thus, Ash would often masquerade as a complete amateur for the sake of these pathetic wannabes, catching heavily inexperienced and handicapped Pokemon to battle with while leaving his over leveled, ultra powerful, occasionally legendary beasts at home simply to give these arrogant little losers a small confidence boost in their lackluster abilities and/or Pokemon. However, if Ash could have foreseen that Trip would actually look up who he was and become a complete megalomaniac bent on stalking him and his friends and acting all condescending whenever they met, he would have had the Pokeball containing his omnipotent, all powerful Charizard sent over and secretly cause the spontaneous combustion of a certain photographer midget, ASAP.

However, this story is not about the stuck-up, little xenophobe named Trip or ASH "jesus" KETCHUM but the one true loser of the insignificant battle they had. His name was Servine and he had been forced to go to bed without his favorite pokefeed and had to sit alone in his dark Pokeball while the rest of Trip's Pokemon were taken out to a celebratory dinner at Applebee's. In his battle against Ketchum, Trip's Servine had suffered a humiliating defeat at the hands of a minuscule starter Pokemon and Trip certainly felt his Pokemon's folly should not go unpunished.

Servine sat motionless in the cold, gloomy space that was practically engulfing him. A marginally known fact about the high tech device known as a Pokeball is that much like a TARDIS, the apparatus' interior is much larger than its exterior. A creature that inhabits the inside is not cramped and has plenty of room to romp about. Unfortunately the inside is also just a vapid, spherical room with a largely depressing atmosphere to it and generally a low temperature too. Most of Trip's other Pokemon frequently grumbled about the great lack of central heating in their Pokeballs but Trip had saved the most frigid one specially for Servine.

Typically, Servine amused himself and passed the time inside his cold, dark jail cell by pretending he was a 945 year old Time Lord but this evening he was far too depressed and flustered for a silly fantasy. Not only was he upset that he had failed his trainer, (even though said Trainer had denied several of his earnest requests to implement a spa and golf resort into his pokeball) which was always commandment number one in the Pokemon credo to never do; his heart had began skipping at odd beats ever since he went head to head against a female Snivy.

Both he and the Snivy were grass snake Pokemon. They had long slender bodies, light green skin for camouflaging in shrubbery and both had the very odd tendency to swallow up Rattatas whole and slowly digest the purple mice as the visibly large carcass bulged out of the snake Pokemon's bellies. Servine had first met the Snivy when he too was a Snivy (before Trip started slipping imported Rare Candies into his food and made him evolve) but now that he was a Servine he had looked at her with a different gaze. He knew during their battle that she knew a powerful battle tactic simply known as Attract. Attract allowed its user to confuse the hormones of a Pokemon of the opposite sex and leave them in a stupefied daze, wing-ding eyes and all, while the move's user delivered their coup de gras upon the lovestruck victim.

"I know" Servine thought "She's just a little seductress. She's got a heart of pure ice but damn, the way she hit me with that Vine whip…it felt soooooo right!"

He was completely bewildered and ever since he regained consciousness (for Snivy had knocked him out seconds flat with her seduction techniques during the battle) this impassioned feeling stayed and warmed Servine as he sat shivering and lonely at the center of this cold, dark prison of his soul. "Why has this feeling remained with me?" he questioned the dark, as he laid on the metallic floor. His thick snake-like eyelids drooped and closed over sad eyes and he began to rest. His heart seemed to echo her name as it throbbed…


Sni…vy………….Sni…vy…………..Sni…vy ………………….Sniv……………


***


Meanwhile, Trip and his other more appreciated Pokemon had a smashing great time at Applebee's until his Tranquill challenged his half wasted Frillish to an intense competition in eating cheese fries. The drunken jellyfish Pokemon ended up sucking up too much cheese and a brown toupee that belonged to a middle aged man named Mr. Sukizo (who did not find this very quote unquote "remarkable") and hawking the giant cheesy and hairy loogie into the face of the restaurant's manager. Trip spent the rest of the night washing dishes to pay for the collateral damage and the loss of some random guy's toupee.


And that concludes the mawkishly named prologue. Now, to ask some annoying plot related questions in a sad attempt to mystify the reader and keep him or her pondering on Mr. Sukizo and his sudden lack of hair and/or the veiled identity of the highly enigmatic Alf Ketchup:

WHAT will become of the Pokeball inside of Trip's pocket? WHY is Servine such an avid fan of BDSM?! WHEN will Trip learn that Pokemon are not housebroken or substitutes for friends to take out to Applebee's? HOW is the manager going to remove those coke stains from the carpet? And WHERE in the world is Carmen Sandiego???

Here is Chapter One which I just dragged out of the can; superior in quality to the prologue, I believe.


This chapter features a comedic trainer battle between Trip and Cheren (One of the hero's friendly rivals in "Black and White") and an explanation why Cheren is MIA in the anime. Trip's Servine also has a minor issue discerning the gender of his opponent, which can only lead to a tragic outcome indeed.


Chapter One: A Miscalculated Judgment! What Angle do you Dangle?


It was still pitch dark inside the Pokeball but Servine's instincts told him the sun had risen. Exotic sounds from the outside world penetrated the metal surfaces of his confinement. He could hear the muffled voice of Trip barking angrily at his other Pokemon and though they treated him with roughly the same respect as Trip, Servine could not help but feel a mutual bond with them. They were all slaves to a child whose ambition extended no further than himself, and generally found it very hard to communicate with Pokemon and humans alike, unless he was patronizing them.

Suddenly, Servine heard a series of loud thumps from outside the spherical ball which made him recoil in shock. These thuds indicated nothing more then that someone was grasping the Pokeball. With a great flash and an eruption of blinding light, Servine found himself standing on a city sidewalk. After a brief spell of dizziness, he began to observe this new environment. The streets had been painted in a reflective dark blue by a fresh rain and the neon signs and the headlights of passing automobiles created dazzling light shows that danced among the shiny surface of the streets. Servine was never inclined to believe that such a brilliant, perceptible display of beauty could be found within a man-made metropolis. Unfortunately, any feelings of awe and placidness were immediately shattered by Trip.

"Here Servine, eat this cut priced Poke-food. I don't want a corpse on my hands." It didn't take a professional psychoanalyst to tell that Trip was still seething with contempt for the grass snake that had failed him in such a disreputable way.

"Sssser-Servine" the Pokemon snarled in return to argue: "Tch, you're still mad about that Snivy battle? It's not like I lost any other match for you."

Even if Trip could possibly understand the ultra complex nuances and tonalities contained in a language where you merely say your name over and over again, he would have continued his annoyingly condescending monologue, regardless.

"I would just release you but I hear that pawning off Unova starters in Hoenn is worth more than my whole collection of rare Digimon cards and I've got two legit first-edition, holographic Metal Greymon cards that I obtained from the ice cream man.Other trainer's don't like rare malnourished Pokemon, so eat up!"

In Trip's hand was a clear bag containing a squishy, brown substance of questionable origin. The sheer stench of it made Servine gag but his hunger pains quickly overpowered his nose's say on the matter, and he crammed his long snout into the bag and started to messily devour the mush.

"Man, I'm so glad that Grass Pokemon food is so cheap," Trip quietly remarked to himself. "What a great deal I got on that Sunflora Farm's compost!"

Upon the swift realization that he was cramming fertilizer, dirt and feces down his gut, Servine turned an entirely different shade of green and conveniently disgorged mulch all over Trip's expensive running shoes. "Graagh!!! My shiny, blue jogging shoes that Elvis died in! I hope you're accustomed to eating Miltank poo, Snaky, cos that's all you're gonna get!"

Following that ordeal, Trip and his Pokemon spent the entire day on their training regiment in Castelia City's vast, verdant park, much to the dismay of the Pokemon. Trip's routine was, perhaps, the closest thing to the "Blitzkrieg" training procedures of the SS units in this modern day and age. Not only did he push the creatures to their physical limits but he kept them on their toes with endurance matches with other nearby trainers. While Trip's Tranquill, Frillish and Lambert were all very much wasted from the plethora of alcohol and curly fry binges they had at Applebee's, the previous night, Servine tried his best to achieve perfection. Out of the nearly 30 battles that Trip trash talked his way into, Servine willingly cinched almost all of them.

Servine's only mishap came when Trip challenged a bespectacled youth named Cheren who claimed he was an unemployed actor. Cheren griped to Trip that he was slated to star in the internationally famous anime "Black and White" as the rival of a kid named "Art Cashchum" but was laid off instead for the director's nephew. In fact, Cheren spent nearly the whole battle bemoaning and cursing nepotism. "My character would have been so much more promising for the show! He was full of idiosyncrasy and was intelligent and unique! This other guy is just a clone of the rival from last season! Man, what a cop out! They could have at least made me the Character of the Day or even a damn extra but no…"

"Jeeez… can you just shut up and fight me already?" replied the highly mannered and subtle Trip. As previously mentioned Trip was no aficionado of television and had no idea what "Black and White" was. It sounded like an anime based on the concept of racial equality. "How stupid!" Trip thought, not being aware of "Boondocks" either.

What made this battle stand out from all of Trip's previous matches was Cheren's choice of Pokemon. He was a small rookie trainer who had ventured all the way from Nuvema Town and had assembled the most embarrassingly wimpy looking team in Unova. It was his choice of a starter Pokemon, however, that really did Servine in. A Snivy stood alongside Cheren and gazed over at its evolved counterpart.

Firstly, though, Cheren sent out a very flustered and clumsy looking dove-- classified scientifically by Pokemon specialists as a Pidove-- to confront Trip's grass snake. "Hah, he may not look like much but my Pidove is tougher than he looks!" Cheren randomly boasted in a bold manner, "Pidove, Sky Attack!"

Pidove took flight and flew to an elevated height. It than braced itself to unleash a swift dive bomb upon Servine. A smirk creeped across Trip's face and he looked at Cheren like the rookie had a sea cucumber in place of a nose. "Dodge it" was his stark reply.

With a mad battle squawk, Pidove pile-drived straight at Servine. Observing that Pidove had closed its eyes as it performed this move and, therefore, was enacting something akin to a blind man's kamikaze, the gangly grass lizard dodged it with effortless grace… simply by leaning a little to the left. The bird collided straight into a pile of dirt. A pair of fat chicken legs was all that could be seen from that said dirt pile. "Damn, man…" uttered Cheren, as he returned his Pidove who had apparently knocked itself into a coma.

"Christ, you've already wasted fifteen minutes; my Pokemon could take you on inebriated." said Trip, which coincidentally half of them were.

"You got nothing on me! I still have my slightly more powerful Snivy" Cheren shot back while rhyming unintentionally.

"Okay fine, William Shakespeare, let 'er rip!"

Cheren's glasses glinted as he hurled the Pokeball into the center of the park. A blinding flash of light erupted from the inside of the device and Servine, who had been light on his feet for the preceding 29 ½ matches suddenly stiffened and his features became statuesque. Out standing in front of him was a four foot tall, light green grass snake with abnormally large eyes. It gazed up at him with a petite smile upon its face. Servine's frisky heart suddenly entered his eyes and his lower jaw gently detached itself from his upper maw. Servine was absolutely lovestruck and even without the help of the powers of attract; he was just as lovelorn as his previous battle with a Snivy. "Bloody ball-ache! You stupid snake, don't just stand there!" Trip shrieked, trying to get his dumbfounded side-kick to react.

Apparently, Trip's furious howls had an effect on Servine as he immediately regained his senses. "Snivy, use that highly apocalyptic 'Tackle' attack of yours!" Cheren commanded. Snivy suddenly charged at Servine with the fiery intensity of a small dog armed with a strawberry. "Dodge this weakling" Trip called again, knowing that he would soon gain the upper hand. However, Servine didn't budge.

Servine then grabbed Snivy as it attempted to carry out its pathetic attack. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!!" exclaimed a frantic Trip. It than scooped Snivy up in lovingly embrace.

(Author's note: To increase the dramatic impact of the following scene, I've decided to depict it as an insipidly written soap opera playwright.)

Trip: [Red faced, enraged] I said dodge it, not hug it!

Servine: [Slightly blushing; speaks with a deep, Casanova-esque monotone] Ssssssssservine… (Heeeello baaaaby, you remind me of a girl that vine whipped me halfway between heaven and hell.)

Snivy: [Gruff, machismo voice] Sniv, Sniv, Snivvy!!! (Whoa there Broski, sorry but I don't swing that way!)

Servine: [Pale and wide eyed] SERV?! (YOU'RE A MAN?!!!!!) [Lets go of Snivy] (Sorry about this!) [Rams Snivy with Grass Mixer.]

As this fanfiction returned to its standard format, Cheren's Snivy collided with a tree and fell unconscious, quickly to be recalled into its Pokeball. Trip just glanced wide eyed at Cheren and then quickly conjured up a five dollar bill and handed it to the rookie trainer. "Ok, pretend that never happened. Nice battle, good luck with your acting career etcetera, etcetera!"

Trip ushered Cheren on his way hoping the newbie would forget all about the guy with the potentially gay Pokemon. Servine, on the other hand still maintained the immense affection for the female Snivy that had violently charmed him in that battle against the kid from Pallet Town. "Sssservine serv" it grumbled as if to say "You think there'd be a simpler way to tell our stupid genders apart. We Pokemon sure are an anatomically incorrect species, aren't we?"


And that concludes Chapter One. No incidental questions pertaining to the next chapter this time, sorry! :P

I have to say, this is actually quite funny in my opinion. The comedy here is over the top in some places (the Pokemon being drunk being an example), but it's not that overly ridiculous in my opinion. The focus of the story being Servine and the aftermath of the battle with Ash also makes great crack fic and you're off to a nice start. I admit, the prologue at the beginning did get a bit rambly and I was wondering when the story will start, but it's nice at least to read one take as to why the things are the way they are in the anime, like for instance Trip not knowing who Ash is (this is the assumption in the anime world the people from one region will have heard what happened in another region).

Now, a few of my favorite parts:

Trip also never watched the Unova news channels which were rife with coverage on the incredible traveling and battling feats of this little boy because he firmly believed it was all a bunch of corrupt lies administered by liberals like the heinous Vice President of the nation, Mr. Es Cade.

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I take it news doesn't really exist in Unova. :P

Thus, Ash would often masquerade as a complete amateur for the sake of these pathetic wannabes, catching heavily inexperienced and handicapped Pokemon to battle with while leaving his over leveled, ultra powerful, occasionally legendary beasts at home simply to give these arrogant little losers a small confidence boost in their lackluster abilities and/or Pokemon. However, if Ash could have foreseen that Trip would actually look up who he was and become a complete megalomaniac bent on stalking him and his friends and acting all condescending whenever they met, he would have had the Pokeball containing his omnipotent, all powerful Charizard sent over and secretly cause the spontaneous combustion of a certain photographer midget, ASAP.

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Oh man, I actually have to agree. It's just an act, people! Stop complaining how Ash is still dumb whenever he battles, m'kay?

Servine's only mishap came when Trip challenged a bespectacled youth named Cheren who claimed he was an unemployed actor. Cheren griped to Trip that he was slated to star in the internationally famous anime "Black and White" as the rival of a kid named "Art Cashchum" but was laid off instead for the director's nephew. In fact, Cheren spent nearly the whole battle bemoaning and cursing nepotism. "My character would have been so much more promising for the show! He was full of idiosyncrasy and was intelligent and unique! This other guy is just a clone of the rival from last season! Man, what a cop out! They could have at least made me the Character of the Day or even a damn extra but no…"

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So that's why Cheren isn't in the anime. He's also probably jealous Bianca gets to be in the anime, haha. Also, the battle between him and Trip is pretty funny. Poor him. XD

(Author's note: To increase the dramatic impact of the following scene, I've decided to depict it as an insipidly written soap opera playwright.)

Trip: [Red faced, enraged] I said dodge it, not hug it!

Servine: [Slightly blushing; speaks with a deep, Casanova-esque monotone] Ssssssssservine… (Heeeello baaaaby, you remind me of a girl that vine whipped me halfway between heaven and hell.)

Snivy: [Gruff, machismo voice] Sniv, Sniv, Snivvy!!! (Whoa there Broski, sorry but I don't swing that way!)

Click to expand...

All right, I usually don't like it when a story goes prose and then in script form, but I actually thought this works well for a story like this. Others might think it's very distracting, but I think it's fine because it's not forced to me.

Also, OH GAWDS, the "halfway between heaven and hell" reminds me of a poem I wrote for PC's Poem Contest long ago (which actually won first place) where I have the line "Heaven. In between. Hell." I then had that line put somewhere in a (non-Pokemon) smut fanfic of mine. x_x So yeah, I'm very amused at that part because I used that line somewhat. :P

Only problem I have with your fic at the moment is there are times I saw you forgot to put a comma after some finished speaking. Some examples:

"You got nothing on me! I still have my slightly more powerful Snivy" Cheren shot back while rhyming unintentionally.

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"Dodge this weakling" Trip called again, knowing that he would soon gain the upper hand.

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Both of them you need to put a comma before the quotation marks, like these:

"You got nothing on me! I still have my slightly more powerful Snivy," Cheren shot back while rhyming unintentionally.

"Dodge this weakling," Trip called again, knowing that he would soon gain the upper hand.

I see at the beginning you did that with the other dialogues, but in the second chapter it seemed you rushed it a bit and not double check if you at least punctuated the dialogues right. I would suggest looking over your work one or two times before posting to at least catch some silly grammar mistakes here and there.

In short, this story has potential to be a great comedy story. Just watch out to not get too rambly like in the beginning and also to look over your work to at least punctuate the dialogue correctly. Keep it up!

Many thanks, Bay Alexison. I will make good use of the grammar advice. You rock, friend! What's the reward for your wonderfully in-depth critique of my hammy parody? Why, the next chapter of course! (Sorry for being so cheap in regards to your reward! :P)


Special note: From now on half of this fanfiction will be focused on Trip and the other half will deal with Servine. Not only will this help diversify my long writings but it will add two sub-plots for one to follow. Therefore, if you think Trip is an arrogant, little Pr**k, you can follow the more romanticized, shipping oriented, Servine side of Proud to be your Slave and vice versa. Enjoy, guys.


Chapter 3: People for the Ethical Treatment of Pokemon, Part One.


The dawning of twilight had caused the once welcoming and pleasant metropolis of Castelia to metamorphosis into a maddening labyrinth of crisscrossing avenues and intersections. As the city grew darker so did its inhabitants. Evening tramps and freaks of the night strutted on the pavement as if they were debuting on their own personal fashion runways. Trip, the silver haired youth prowled the streets of dusk. Hands inserted in pockets, he stomped down a muddy alleyway to take a breather from the shady misfits who towered over his arrogant but small stature. He tread through the puddles of gully water hoping that this alley would soon guide him to a street with some shelter-whether it be a one room apartment or a posh resort hotel. The latter, however, would be much more preferable because his Servine had picked up the irritating habit of writing and reciting his own sonnets. Trip had no idea why a Pokemon needed to embrace such a beatnik-y hobby but all he knew was what a pain in the butt it was having to hear "Servin-eth, Servin-eth, thou art Servin-eth," all night long.

Trip emerged from the dark alley and came into a street, enigmatically entitled "Butterfree's Bosom Boulevard". He shuffled up the sidewalk, surveying the nearby buildings for a lodging of some kind. Fortunately, as he looked around confusedly, a man dressed in a bulbous, somewhat deformed looking Lavitar costume with his face peeping out its mouth, approached the Pokemon Trainer from nowhere and started prancing around him.

"Oh merciful me, I'm a trendy and attractive suburban bachelor brimming with youth but I have no place in the city to sleep!" exclaimed the man, flamboyantly flailing his arms at Trip and apparently enacting a skit of some kind.

Trip believed that this person was trying to communicate with him but he wasn't quite sure if the man had consumed alcoholic beverages before he had considered donning that ridiculous outfit or acting in such a manner. The man continued his yammering and started namedropping a hotel and its location several times, "Perhaps, I should pay a visit to the fabulous 'Tyranitar's Butte Grand Hotel and Casino' down by 'Wailmer-Astoria Avenue'. The rates are always amazing at the FABULOUS 'Tyranitar's Butte Grand Hotel and Casino,' located on 'Wailmer-Astoria Avenue,' where you will be treated to a free, fabulous, and complementarity prepared breakfast that is absolutely both free and fabulous. Certainly you don't want to miss a novelty as great as Tyranitar shaped pancakes???!!!"

Trip didn't know who he wanted to punch more; this costumed man who was blatantly (and obnoxiously) advertising for some random hotel or the person behind the naming of all the streets and establishments in the city- as they were certainly as cringe worthy as the idiot standing right before him.

"Where was that fabulous 'Tyranitar's Butte Grand Hotel and Casino' that ranks so high on the fabulosity meter again? It's over by the Wailmer-Astoria…" the man did not cease his jabbering until he was silenced by Trip, "Shut your damn mouth. Frillish, Tranquill go!"

He released the two Pokemon out of the confinement of their Pokeballs. "Attack the walking infomercial…I mean, that wild Lavitar!" Both Pokemon leapt into action to do their master's bidding.

The scene that ensued was one that bore a closer resemblance to a certain Alfred Hitchcock horror film than anything that was kid friendly but at least, it provided many bystanders with a good laugh. The Pokemon obediently flew into the air and began to casually assault the man as if he was one of them. The Lavitar did put up a fight, however, raising his fists and yelling "Come at me, bros!" but his scare tactics were of no avail. Tranquill, a Pokemon that resembled a large hawk, took his powerful beak and began pecking at the man from an angle where it could inflict the most personal pain. "HOLY GOPHERS!!!" the man screamed as he put his costume's claws between his legs and doubled over, writhing in pain.

"Good job, guys, violence is the perfect cure for migraines!" Trip gave a rare compliment towards his Pokemon, returned them and heeded the giant Lavitar's directions to the so-called "Tyranitar's Butte Hotel."

The hotel, in question, was named after a famous landmark known as Tyranitar's Butte. It was a delightful pair of crevices located just outside the city where long ago, a circus trope of Lavitars was separated from the group of performers who owned them. The entertainer Pokemon took refuge in these particular mountains whose caves provided them with plenty of shelter, underground spring water and rocks richly packed with minerals to devour. Eventually they all evolved from all the beneficial nutrients they had consumed. The two mountains attained their name from the large colonies of Tyranitars that resided on them … or at least, that's the urban legend that the owner of the hotel had been unsuccessfully trying to maintain for the last fifteen years whenever people made dirty jokes that the twin peaks resembled that particular Pokemon's buttocks.

The hotel stood right at the corner of Wailmer-Astoria Avenue, book-ending a fairly new coffee shoppe and a theatre that was owned by the infamous syndicate of organized crime, Team Rocket. Hence, the only theatrical presentations that were ever put on there were the critically acclaimed "I never sang for MY Giovanni", "Meowths, the Musical" and performances by the lovely and seductive (Team) Rockettes, who the notorious female outlaw, Jessie Rocket, (Real name undisclosed) had a brief stint with before participating in the syndicate's more sordid affairs of Pokemon theft and editing incorrect information regarding specific video game release dates onto Bulbapedia.

The Tyranitar's Butte Hotel and Casino dwarfed the two buildings beside it and it rose over thirteen stories high. The gold embroidered doorway and jumbo cursive neon letters on the building could only hint at the possible glamors that awaited Trip and his Pokemon on the inside. The trainer released each of his four Pokemon so they could be properly admitted into the hotel. Soon, Servine, Tranquill, Frillish and Lampert all stood (or levitated in Frillish and Lampert's case) at his side.

First, Trip was required to check if this hotel had a policy against allowing Pokemon in the building. Fortunately, he found nothing posted in the doorway as it would have damaged the self-esteem of all four of his Pokemon as they weren't aware that there really were such evil, despicable people out there who strongly believed that they weren't housebroken, sophisticated members of modern society. His Servine and Tranquill would be especially hurt as the former had taken up the incredibly Shakespearean hobby of inscribing sonnets for his beloved (Much to everyone else's dismay) and the latter was working on saying its name with a snooty British accent.

Trip and his Pokemon then stepped through the antechamber and immediately their eyes gaped at the magnificent décor of the hotel's incredibly large foyer. It was decked out in just about everything with the potential to be labeled "ritzy" from a massive, sparkling chandelier to a stunning ice sculpture of a Tyranitar carved by immensely talented ice Pokemon, to the wonderful smelling dishes of poupouri that were literally set on every possible table and nightstand.

Trip's Frillish came up to one of these said dishes and popped a few pieces in its mouth and smiled. Due to its lack of nostrils, it wanted to savor such an elegant soap in any way it possibly could.

Lampert, an electric Pokemon that resembled a psychically levitating street lamp with a pixelated face was also highly ecstatic. It glided happily around the massive room until it stopped at the behemoth chandelier. "Lampert!" it shouted happily which could only mean "Hello, my big brother! How do you do?" It's mood suddenly changed to one of shock. "La...Lampert?" it asked carefully and quizzically, "Are you... dead???" When no response came, the Pokemon started to panic. "Lammmmpert!!!" "Oh no! Some crazy maniac is out there 'hanging' light fixtures!!!" it exclaimed.

(Authors note to the reader: My deepest apologies for saturating my fanfiction with that highly obvious and horrific pun. Please do not bring firearms to my house with sick intentions as I do not plan on subjecting you to any further… pun-ishment. Hee hee.)

Trip approached the service counter with a smirk on his face; the man who stood behind it looked like he dropped out of an old Western Movie. He was clad in every stereotypical article of clothing that came to one's mind when the word "cowboy" was mentioned. Spiky spurs, rodeo boots, a brimmed hat so tall it probably could hold eleven gallons, a leather vest, dirty blue jeans, a jug for spitting chewing tobacco, a saddle, a purple leather belt made of Arbok skin which also held a grey holster filled with an actual revolver pistol, a couple of gold teeth, and a high-tech digital record player quietly playing a record of "Hank William's Greatest Hits," were all items either in his vicinity, on him or in him (for the matter of his artificial teeth, that is.)

The man spat into the nearby vase and grinned to reveal his crooked teeth. "Howdy there, son! Ma names Git R. Dunn and I'm tha proud owner of this here hotel! But I reckon you should address me as Mister Dunn, cos it'll be teachin you sum proper courtesy."

Trip could not help snicker at the man's heavily exaggerated accent. "Uh, yeah… hehe, Woody. I reckon I'll be needing to saddle up in one of your rooms."

The man was incredibly tolerating of the insults directed at his get-up (Trip assumed he got that a lot, no doubt.) and responded semi-professionally "Well, I dunno how a pint-sized rascal like you's gots the cash to be stayin in a mighty fine place like dis..."

Fortunately for Trip, he was certainly wise enough not to leave home without a wealthy sum of cash-which came in the form of his mom's plus sized, maxed-out ATM card that he had swiped beforehand. In fact, he also made off with her car so he wouldn't have to walk from township to township in order to become a Pokemon Master but unfortunately, his ten year old comprehension on how to drive stick shift didn't prevent him from careening it straight into a lake. He flashed the credit card by Mister Dunn whose eyes bulged incredulously and he hollered "Hoo-wee! We've got ourselves a teeny-bopper millionaire!"



Meanwhile, Trip's Pokemon had engaged in a small conversation of their own. "Servine Sssserv Servine Sssssssss Servine Serv!" the green snake recited proudly to his fellow Pokemon. This could roughly be translated into human dialect as "Oh my emerald goddess, gaze at me with your scarlet eyes that glisten like two burning, feverish suns. Stoop and sooth my aching brow as I cry out your name. Pray to the essence of love, that death's icy grip will be the only thing keeping me from you."

The other Pokemon were less than enthusiastic to hear this. Tranquill, being the true thespian of the group cringed at the pitiable 'sonnet' which was lacking any kind of meter whatsoever. "Traaanquill Tranquil" stated the large bird Pokemon which meant "For the love of all that's good and holy, Servine, save this embarrassing schlock for your goddess before I'm forced to drill peck your johnson just as I did to that over-sized Lavitar."

"Frill Frill Frill-ish?!" added Frillish, while puckering its lips and making a kissy face "OOOOH, who's his goddess?!"

"I don't know. I think it's that one Snivy chick that made his eyes roll to the back of his head and than started whipping him up real good…"

"I hope you realize that neither of you has ever won a match against me" said Servine, calmly defending himself, "You've never won one before and I don't think that messing with me today is liable to change your outcome."

"Fufufufu, well, Trip tells me that he's going to make you be our room service so he doesn't have to pay anyone! After all, you've certainly embarrassed him enough to hate you." Frillish shot back with a mischievous smile. Servine did not doubt this, however. There were three things in this world that were certain: Death, taxes and Trip's passion for sadistically taking his anger out on his Pokemon.


Suddenly, the Pokemon's bickering was interrupted by a booming voice with an ornery Texas accent, "Y'ALL DID WHAT TO JEFF THE HAPPY, FRIENDLY LAVITAR GUY?!!!" Trip flinched as Git R. Dunn pounded the service desk and the pot filled to the brim with saliva coated pieces of chewing tobacco fractured on the floor with a violent thud.

Mister Dunn looked simply heartbroken and as manly tears of rage welled up in his greasy eye sockets, he lifted his right hand in a divine pose and said "Jeff was a victim of the incurable affliction of the Piloswine flu, but despite his terminal illness he always came to work wearing suuuuuu-uuuuch (Note: Mister Dunn purposefully extended his 'such' in order to augment the crippling feeling of guilt and sadness Trip's conscience should have been suffering at this moment) a marvelous smile a feller never seen before in his life. His dimples were so rounded, huge and sugar-filled they looked like two glazed vanilla donut holes shinin' in the sun and I must say nothing, N-O-T-H-I-N-G—not even the undies of a prepubescent school girl-- possesses that sheer majesty! By tearing that man's costume you tore up his dream and sent the pieces skyward; heaven-bound to say the least!"

In response to Dunn's overacted and somewhat ridiculous scolding, Trip just stood there- eyes glazed over and mouth slightly slack with a drop of drool readying itself to fall and make contact with the floor. Mister Dunn aggressively started snapping his grimy fingers in Trip's face to awaken the boy from the stupor that he had been in. Trip then proceeded to respond in a disinterested fashion much to the enraged man's dismay, "Jeeeeezz Mister Duke of Dallas, let me kindly inform you that my mom's… er, I mean, my credy-card probably has enough moolah to cover his hospital bill, plus a night's stay at your seedy hotel…"

Mister Dunn extended a lanky hand and grabbed Trip by the front collar of his orange jacket and pulled the snottish brat so close that Trip could feel the craggy whiskers on his unshaven face, "Son of a chipwhich! This ain't about the man's doctor's fee; this is about that vintage Lavitar costume you destroyed in the process of giving him a whupping! That durn keepsake was sown by the peg-legged gypsy who discovered Tryranitar's Butte. She was blind in the right eye and was missing her left one—'No wonder that costume looked like a bunch of Zubat guano' Trip inserted quietly— but she sure knew it when she had stumbled across a safe sanctuary for Lavitar everywhere and she constructed that honoring costume out of her raw blood, sweat, tears, stomach acid, urine, kidney juice and several additional bodily fluids!"

"Eww…" Trip responded. He then grimaced, looked down at his mulch covered running shoes and muttered something that vaguely resembled an apology to the furious cowboy.

Mister Dunn, however, just gritted his darkened yellow teeth and glared at the young trainer. "I want you to know that a Meowth would start walking on its hind legs and begin babbling in some Anglo-Saxon derived language before I'd forgive your misdeed, sonny. It is that reason that I have an inevitable proposition for ya—or as the kids say it 'a fly deal'— if you don't check your sorry buttocks outta my hotel by high noon tomorra' than Larry gets to wrangle you, just like ya did to his 'older brother,' Jeff."

And with that, he let out a high-pitched redneck giggle and started dinging the bell that was laid out on the service desk. Everyone in the lobby then turned their attention to a very wide doorway that was coincidentally shaped like a Tyranitar as an earsplitting roar sounded throughout the large room. A couple of the hotel's veteran employees proceeded to find the closest elevator or stairway to seek shelter for when "Larry" made his grand entrance. The whole room vibrated and shook as a mammoth green lizard that possessed the gut of a sumo wrestler emerged from the intricately shaped doorway grunting and snorting. As Larry took colossal, staggering steps over to Mr. Dunn, Servine saw the lump in his own master's throat swell to the size of a small ivory ball as it traveled down his neck.


IN BIG BOLDED LETTERING: TO BE CONTINUED!

I love your writing style for this. Not only does it have the basic humor that everyone can go for (dinosaur butts!) but it also comments on the weird parts of the Pokemon anime. Like how poor Cheren couldn't get a part.

Have to say that my favorite part of this that I can pinpoint is the scene where Lampert meets its dead "relative". In such a short scene, you can get across a Pokemon's personality that just endears them to the reader.

Bay pointed out the grammar errors I saw in the first two chapters, and they definitely improved in the third chapter.

Looking forward to the next chapter to see how Trip gets out of the evil grasp of Git R Dunn (*snort!*) and Larry.

The hotel stood right at the corner of Wailmer-Astoria Avenue, book-ending a fairly new coffee shoppe and a theatre that was owned by the infamous syndicate of organized crime, Team Rocket. Hence, the only theatrical presentations that were ever put on there were the critically acclaimed "I never sang for MY Giovanni", "Meowths, the Musical" and performances by the lovely and seductive (Team) Rockettes, who the notorious female outlaw, Jessie Rocket, (Real name undisclosed) had a brief stint with before participating in the syndicate's more sordid affairs of Pokemon theft and editing incorrect information regarding specific video game release dates onto Bulbapedia.

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So that's what Jessie has been doing. Very nice. XD Also, I won't mind going to those musicals, LOL.

Lampert, an electric Pokemon that resembled a psychically levitating street lamp with a pixelated face was also highly ecstatic.It glided happily around the massive room until it stopped at the behemoth chandelier. "Lampert!" it shouted happily which could only mean "Hello, my big brother! How do you do?" It's mood suddenly changed to one of shock. "La...Lampert?" it asked carefully and quizzically, "Are you... dead???" When no response came, the Pokemon started to panic. "Lammmmpert!!!" "Oh no! Some crazy maniac is out there 'hanging' light fixtures!!!" it exclaimed.

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Just real quick, I think you don't meant this, but "an electric Pokemon" makes me think Lampert is an electric Pokemon when in fact it's a ghost/fire type. Maybe replace the bolded part with "dual ghost-fire type" so that the readers won't get the wrong idea?

Otherwise, I have to agree with Astinus that already Lampert has a personality there and it's quite cute. I love the other Pokemon characters, though!

Another great chapter here. Haha, love the mention of people being walking infomercials like that. Yeah, I too would be uncomfortable. Oh, and the interaction with Trip and Git R Dunn (I c wat u did thar :P ) is priceless. Can't wait for the next one!