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Old December 21st, 2012 (12:11 AM). Edited July 9th, 2017 by icomeanon6.
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icomeanon6 icomeanon6 is offline
It's "I Come Anon"
    Join Date: Feb 2008
    Location: Northern Virginia
    Age: 24
    Gender: Male
    Posts: 1,177
    [Some of you out there from the old Fanfiction Lounge may remember that three years ago I promised to write a one-shot in the vein of my chaptered parody Gary Stu's Unpredictable Adventure, and I named the title Giovanni Destroys the World and Everything in It. With all this talk going around about an alleged Mayan prophecy for some cataclysmic event on 12.21.12, the opportunity was too good to pass up. So, here's a little something to take your mind off all the insanity. Enjoy!]

    Giovanni Destroys the World and Everything in It

    It was the middle of a cold December’s night in Viridian City, and the populace was not sleeping easy. Team Rocket was at the height of its power, and the regional police force quaked in their boots at the mere thought of resisting. There was only one house in the entire city that had no cause to fear the Rockets, and it belonged to Giovanni, their nefarious leader. On that very night he was sitting in his favorite chair, sipping his favorite wine, and mulling over the details of his favorite plan to destroy the world and everything in it once and for all.

    “First I’ll steal all the Pokémon in the major cities, then I’ll use the Hyper Mega Dog Whistle to make all the Growlithes and Arcanines go insane, and then I’ll activate the doomsday device that will reduce the entire surface of the planet to radioactive dust. Or do I even need the Dog Whistle? Decisions, decisions.”

    It was then that there was a knock on the door to his study. “Come in,” said Giovanni, also known as the master of evil and general nastiness. The door opened, and in came one of his Grunts holding a manila envelope.

    “I’ve brought the schematics for the Hyper Mega Dog Whistle, Mr. Giovanni sir.”

    Giovanni took on a sinister, evil, crooked, evil, evil grin and gestured to his desk. “Set it down there.”

    The Grunt did so immediately and then said, “Unless you have need of anything else, sir, I’ll be heading back to the barracks at HQ.”

    “Very well. Dismissed.”

    The Grunt saluted, turned on his heels, and departed. As for Giovanni, he stood up from his favorite (and evil, definitely evil) chair and picked up the folder with the plans for the HMDW. He leafed through the blueprints, skimmed the technical documents, and chuckled at an artist’s rendering of a deranged Arcanine setting an orphanage on fire. He then exited his study, walked down the Hallway of Signed Giovanni Portraits, and made his way to the living room. Once he had sat down in his second favorite (and slightly less evil) chair by the hearth, he began to read the plans in more detail. It seemed from the specifications of the Super Frequency Modulator that the range of sounds to be generated by the device could theoretically be expanded to include other kinds of Pokémon, which would make for even more delicious chaos prior to the nuclear apocalypse. Giovanni thought that he must be the luckiest man alive, and the fire crackled in agreement.

    But all of a sudden, Giovanni began to hear some strange noises. It started with a clatter that seemed to come from the roof, followed by heavy footsteps. Then he heard a wind outside so mighty that it shook the trees. The same wind then came down through the chimney and into his living room, blowing out the fire and reducing the embers to cold ashes. As he shivered from the sudden chill, he heard further clattering starting from the roof and moving down the chimney until finally a pair of black boots hit his living room floor, closely followed by the heavyset, bearded man of advanced years in a red suit to whom they belonged.

    At the sight of all this Giovanni’s face contorted itself into an expression of angry disbelief. The man in red, who by any measure came across as quite jolly, turned to Giovanni and started to laugh in archaic fashion. “Ho, ho, ho! You must be Giovanni! Just the man I wanted to see!”

    Giovanni did not react well to the stranger’s statement. “Get the f*ck out of my house!

    The stranger was unfazed by Giovanni’s characteristic anti-jolliness. “Say now, Giovanni! Aren’t you happy to have me visit? You do remember me, don’t you?”

    “No, I don’t, because you’re some crazy schmuck in a Santa costume whom I’ve never met and who’s trespassing in my living room! Now get the f*ck out of my house!

    The presumed crazy schmuck in a Santa costume stroked his thick, white beard and shook his head. “Tisk tisk. It’s this kind of bad attitude that’s kept you on my Naughty List since you were just a little boy.”

    “Listen here, you whack job: You’re not f*cking Santa. You’re a sociopath and I’m going to give you ten seconds to get your fat ass out of my house before I call in security to…t…ggcccck…”

    At some point during the tirade, the jolly old man in red had raised his gloved hand and begun to work some strange magic on Giovanni’s throat. “Ho, ho, ho! Santa finds your lack of faith disturbing!”

    Terribly frightened and in the midst of choking, Giovanni managed to get out a few words. “O…okay…y…y…you’re…Santa…aacccckk…”

    At hearing this, Santa opened and lowered his hand, allowing Giovanni to breathe once more. “Ho, ho, Sorry about that. You see, I just watched Star Wars with Mrs. Claus and some of the elves the other night, and that one very un-jolly fellow in it reminded me of y—”

    “What do you want from me?” croaked Giovanni, still recovering from Santa’s mysterious powers.

    “Of course; where are my manners? You’re a busy man, and I should get to the point. Giovanni, I need your help to save Christmas!”

    “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

    With a twinkle in his eye, Santa began to raise his hand again. This prompted Giovanni to retract his previous statement. “Okay, okay, I’ll do it! I’ll do anything!”


    And so Santa Claus began to explain the situation to Giovanni. It wasn’t going to be an easy task for the mob boss, but he would have to succeed if he wanted to save Christmas; also if he didn’t want Santa to use his magical powers to kill him in one of any number of horrific ways. At any rate, it’s high time that this story got itself a more appropriate title. So, in the spirit of the season, I present to you:

    Giovanni Destroys the World and Everything in It


    It was a dreary December morning, and Giovanni was dragging himself to the headquarters of Team Rocket beneath the Viridian City Gym. The sidewalks had a few inches on them, as it had started snowing at 2:36 AM. Giovanni was positive about the time, as he had not been able to shut his eyes once the entire night. This was because at irregular intervals, he would hear a faint voice in his bedroom, though there was no one to be seen. The voice usually said something along the lines of “I see you when you’re sleeping and I know when you’re awake,” or “I know when you've been bad or good, so be good or I’ll freeze all the blood in your body! Ho, ho, ho!

    Even now Giovanni was experiencing a kind of heightened awareness. The sound of every stranger’s footstep could be the red maniac sneaking up from behind to slit his throat. The clinking tags on any Growlithe’s collar could be the bells on one of the flying Stantler, ready to trample him. Any little kid packing a snowball could be a little kid packing a snowball. (Giovanni hates children, so that’s bad enough already, of course. Could also be an elf that’s packing heat, I suppose.)

    After half an hour of proceeding cautiously, looking over his shoulder, and occasionally diving for cover, Giovanni finally made it to his Gym. Now the hard part of the day was to begin. It was one thing to have to bow to that jolly bastard’s demands, but it was another thing entirely to have to use his hard-earned and hard-assembled crime organization to do it. As he reached for the door handle, he looked at his face in the glass. He saw a completely sad, disheveled, and paranoid man. Truth be told, he thought he looked crazy. And then it clicked: he was crazy. Of course! This had all been some kind of sick, extended dream that was somehow permeating into his waking life. There was no Santa Claus, and he was just walking to work as usual. This comforting but delusional disillusionment was interrupted by the sudden and inexplicable sight of Santa Claus standing behind him in the glass. Santa was smiling and holding a pouch of good ol’ O-negative, which promptly and audibly froze solid as he gave a little wink.

    Giovanni turned and groveled, “I’m doing it! Honest! Just leave me alone!” but Santa was nowhere to be seen. With a pained groan, Giovanni turned again to the door and entered the Gym. This was not turning out to be a particularly good day; even the official Team Rocket Anthem that played in the Secret Elevator couldn’t cheer him up.

    When Giovanni stepped out of the Secret Elevator and into the Long, Dim Hallway of Malice, his secretary was there to meet him as she would on any other day, and handed him a page of notes for his morning address. “The latest report puts morale at an all-time high, sir. The Grunts are even more enthusiastic about the Destroy the World and Everything in It operation than we anticipated.”

    Giovanni’s hands shook as he looked over the notes that he wouldn’t need. His secretary asked him, “Is something the matter, sir?”

    “No, nothing’s the matter. I just…have a few adjustments of my own I want to make for the address this morning.”

    “Oh, I see. I look forward to hearing them, sir.”

    No, you really shouldn’t, Giovanni wanted to say, but he couldn’t bring himself to. All he could do was walk with his secretary down the hallway to face what he anticipated would be the second most embarrassing incident of his long life, with the first-most still to come.

    They reached the sinister yet ornate doors to the Main Hall, which swung open on their own. They walked down the aisle between rows of loyal Grunts in perfect uniform and discipline. Each row they passed immediately raised their left arms in salute. When Giovanni reached the stage and podium and looked out on his elite crime force, he felt the consolation that at least Santa hadn’t taken away his favorite sight of the morning. Yet it was fleeting. Giovanni acknowledged the salutes, the arms lowered again, and all were ready to hear what he had to say.

    “I, uh,” he said, before realizing that the mike was too low and no one could hear him. He swallowed as he made the adjustment and started again. “I…I have an announcement to make.”

    No reaction. Uncomfortable silence. Hoo boy. “The Destroy the World and Everything in It operation is to be placed on temporary hiatus.”

    Broken expressions in the ranks. Murmurs of confusion. This is bad. “Instead, we are going to devote all of our efforts to a special operation that must reach 100% completion by next Tuesday.”

    Some murmurs of approval, but also more confusion. Sh*t, some of them know what day Tuesday is. Giovanni cleared his throat. “The operation involves taking all of the stolen Pokémon that we have in the storage centers and…um…”

    He wanted to say something different: ‘and training them to be vicious killers,’ ‘and painting them funny colors before selling them to collectors,’ ‘and grinding them into a mixture of 30% Pokémon meat and 70% old newspapers before selling them to Taco Bell,’ anything other than what he was about to say.

    His eyes began to water, and then it came out. “And wrapping their Pokéballs in shiny paper and giving them away to handicapped and underprivileged children while wearing home-made elf costumes.”

    Silence. Pure, disbelieving, jaw-dropped silence. “Are there any questions?”

    Five more seconds of silence, and then a hand came up. “Yes, you there.”

    “Is this part of a recruiting drive?”

    “No. Our identity is not to be disclosed to any of the children or their parents and/or legal guardians.”

    Another hand. “Do we give the Pokémon rabies first?”

    “No. Just a bath and a tooth-brushing.”

    More stillness, and then a very timid-looking hand. “Sorry, it’s been a while since I celebrated any holidays. Are elves for Hanukkah or Christmas?”

    The Grunts all began whispering among themselves. “Hanukkah, definitely Hanukkah.”

    “No man, elves ain’t Jewish. It’s either Christmas or Easter.”

    “He’s right, it’s Easter Elves; see how it’s alliterative?”

    “I thought it was Kwanzaa.”

    “Are we even allowed to say ‘Christmas’ in Team Rocket?”

    Giovanni couldn’t stand this any longer. He had to assign roles and get out of there quick. “That’s enough! Class C Grunts, I want those costumes finished ASAP, and don’t forget Santa suits for the squadron leaders. It’s going to be one squadron per hospital, orphanage, or neighborhood. Class B Grunts, I want those Pokémon cleaned up and gift-wrapped. Class A Grunts, you are to assemble and rehearse an appropriate selection of holiday carols. I want a sensitive balance between spiritual and secular lyrics! Finally, Class S Grunts, you are to research and later train the other classes in acting charitable, warm, and especially jolly. Dismissed!”

    Giovanni walked off the stage as fast as he could, made a beeline for his office, and bawled for several hours.


    “This is bullsh*t.”

    “I hear you.”

    “Shut up, assh*les. You want to get shot? Get back to sewing.”


    “Seriously, I think something’s way wrong with the boss. This goes 100% against half the things we signed on the application.”

    “He’s probably leaving the awesome part a surprise. Maybe we get to steal ’em back a week later and make all the kids cry. That’d be sweet.”

    “Ha, yeah!”


    “Pass the sequins.”

    “Ooh, that looks good.”


    It was finally the twenty fourth of December. At the moment Giovanni was taking a break from his administrative duties at headquarters to answer the call of nature. He had been something of a nervous wreck for a while, and he was appreciating a temporary feeling of relief when suddenly

    Ho, ho, ho!

    Giovanni made a mess, stopped midstream, felt an acute mix of fear and pain, started crying, and frantically tried to collect himself while shouting “What do you want?!”

    Santa was in an especially good mood today, and slapped Giovanni on the back. “Do you remember what day it is?”

    The sing-song voice was like daggers in Giovanni’s very soul. “Yes! And I’m doing it! I’ve made all the arrangements, and my subordinates are going to carry out the plan exactly like you said in fifteen minutes! Now stop doing that!

    Santa shook his head. “You know, most folks wish I would visit them more often, but I digress. I merely wanted to point out that you’re not acting entirely in the spirit of our agreement!”

    Santa unslung the large bag from his shoulder and began to rummage through it. A few moments later he pulled out an uncommonly well-tailored red suit that happened to be near identical to his own. He gave a little wink, and Giovanni’s eye began to twitch. “You can’t be serious.”

    “Now, now. You agreed to personally save Christmas. I can’t have you entrust the most important job in the entire plan to your helpers alone! Those poor children want to see St. Nicholas, and you’re going to give them St. Nicholas. Besides, Mrs. Claus spent all night on this outfit, just for you!”

    Giovanni’s blood was beginning to boil. There comes a point when a man’s concern for his own safety has to take a back seat to his minimum dignity. “This was never part of the agreement, you sick maniac! I’ve embarrassed myself more than enough in front of my troops for this to qualify as ‘personal.’ The end result is going to be exactly the f*cking same, so what do you care if I go out with a squadron? You can’t ask any more of me, and I absolutely refuse!”

    All it took was a wave of Santa’s magic finger, and the contents of the urinal behind Giovanni turned to ‘ice.’ Giovanni felt a horrible sickness in his lower abdomen, and squeaked “You wouldn’t.”

    Santa merely tossed him the suit—along with the matching beard, boots, and hat—and said “Better get a move on! Ho, ho, ho!” before walking out of the men’s room.

    Giovanni stood shaking for a few minutes. What he was instructed to do reviled him to the very core of his being, yet even this could not overcome the indescribable dread he felt at even beginning to imagine what Santa’s implied punishment must feel like. In a manner of speaking, he went with his gut on this one and put on the suit.


    What followed was a waking nightmare. First there came the stares from his underlings, all of them wondering at this act of violence to the very essence of Team Rocket. Here was Giovanni—the most feared man in the entire region—dressed up as Kris Kringle and about to lead the most elite squad of Rockets to a nearby orphanage to give away valuable Pokémon without anything expected in return. On top of that, Giovanni could feel some strange magic at work in the fake hair on his face. It was hiding his fierce scowl, his flared nostrils, his bared teeth; replacing them with a powerful aura of nauseating jolliness.

    He grabbed his bag of Pokéballs. He opened the garage door. He filed into the armored, festively-painted van along with his squadron. He felt the vehicle begin to move. He contemplated suicide.

    After thirty agonizing minutes, the van came to a complete stop. The doors opened, and the forced smiles came on. In Giovanni’s case the forced smile was quite literal. The suit was no longer content with masking his expression with witchcraft; it was now freezing his skin near to the point of frostbite if he dared not laugh and grin. When he knocked on the door of the home for abandoned children, the young nun who opened it was taken aback—not by the terror of history’s most horrendous and successful private army, but by the childlike joy and wonder of an unexpected visit from Father Christmas.

    It was then that Giovanni felt something like a gigantic parasite manifesting in the hollow of his chest and pushing its way up his throat until it came out of his mouth in the form of “Ho, ho, ho! Merry Christmas, Sister Katie!” On the inside, he desperately wondered how he knew this woman’s name, and how he knew in the back of his mind that she had been very good this year.

    The Sister put her hand to her mouth in a vain attempt to hide her excitement. “Ann, go get the kids!” she called over her shoulder. She then invited all of the Rockets into the orphanage, and despite how that sounds it was a perfectly safe and wonderful thing to do.

    One of the elves—Giovanni’s most ruthless senior officer, in fact—asked in a whisper, “Sir, we know you can get uncomfortable around kids. Do you want one of us to give out the presents?”

    Giovanni was not surprised at this question, and wanted to say yes. The suit nearly turned his toes blue. Giovanni was surprised at this question, and said, “That would never do! What’s Christmas without a present from yours truly? All together now, my dear helpers! Dashing through the snow…

    Giovanni could see it in his minions’ eyes: the existential horror of the scene. They did their best, and indeed their phony smiles were good enough and their apprehensive rendition of Jingle Bells was convincing enough. When the little boys and girls piled into the room, their distant, lowly expressions were replaced with sheer elation. They all screamed “Santa!” at that high register only children can reach, and several of them rushed into Giovanni’s open arms for a big hug.

    Giovanni stood up, patted a few of the little ones on the head, and surveyed the scene. He was filled with knowledge of the unknowable, and for the first time in his life he felt not only that he needed an exorcism but that he wanted one. “Bless me, I do believe you’ve all been good girls and boys this year! I knew I was right to leave the coal at home!”

    The orphans’ bright faces grew brighter. Not only was Santa here, but he had brought presents! Giovanni picked out one of them and said, “Joseph, I understand you’re a big fan of bug Pokémon!”

    Joseph’s jaw hung open, and he made the littlest, most adorable nod. Giovanni gave him a wink, reached into his sack, and pulled out a wrapped ball that he knew contained a Caterpie. Joseph was shaking as he took the gift into his tiny hands. The golden paper was torn off, and then Joseph smiled wider and laughed clearer than he had since before he could remember. He pressed the button, dropped the ball to the floor, and there was Caterpie, looking right back at him. Joseph wrapped his arms around the little worm, and just kept laughing. “Is he really mine?”

    Giovanni was disgusted. The suit dropped to minus twenty. Giovanni was delighted. “You bet your boots he is, son. Don’t forget to give the little fellow a good name!”

    “I’ll think hard! Thank you, Santa! Thank you so much!”

    The rest of the children cheered. And yet, one could see in their eyes that they still didn’t believe that Santa could have brought presents for all of them, much less all their own Pokémon. But Giovanni would not leave one child disappointed. He called them each by name, knew just what they needed to hear, and best of all had the perfect Pokémon in every case.

    When all the children were playing with their new friends, Giovanni turned to the two nuns, who were at a complete loss. Sister Ann was the first to find any words, and she kept her voice low. “Sir, I can’t begin to tell you what this means to the children, but we just can’t afford to keep this many Pokémon along with all of them. We’re running into trouble as it is and—”

    Giovanni put a finger to her lips. “You don’t think I’d forget your present, Sister Ann? You and Sister Katie will be getting a special something from the North Pole in the mail soon. There won’t be any more worrying about money at Christmastime in this house again; not on my watch!”

    The Sisters could barely contain themselves. “God bless you, sir,” said Sister Ann.

    Giovanni then realized that he had promised to donate a considerable annual sum to a charitable organization. ‘If Santa thinks I’m going to stand for this idiocy next year he can shove it up his OH SH*T IT’S COLD HO, HO, HO!’ Feeling overwhelmingly charitable himself, he then asked the Sisters, “Is there anyone here I’ve missed?”

    “Just one more,” said Sister Katie. “She’s in bed right now. She’s very tired these days, and—”

    “—And has a lot of trouble with her voice, very shy,” said Giovanni, “Yes, I remember now. Let’s go pay her a visit.”

    Giovanni led the way as the two Sisters and several of the Rockets followed. They went up the stairs and into the girls’ dormitory, which was unoccupied save for one little girl lying in bed at the furthest corner of the room and staring out the window. She had surely heard all of the commotion downstairs, yet she didn’t even look to see who was coming through the door. Giovanni felt that he understood the situation: the child was miserable, and didn’t even want to see Santa, much less receive a present. With some bitterly cold encouragement, Giovanni felt deep pity, and knew that he had to set the situation to rights.

    He sat down by the girl’s bedside to no response. “Caroline?” he asked her in a soothing tone. “May I have your attention for just a minute?”

    Caroline kept staring out the window, but the hardening of her expression told Giovanni that she was listening. For the first time in his life, Giovanni knew that each child was as special as a snowflake, and that this case would require the utmost care. New knowledge then came to him unbidden: there was very little that was physically wrong with Caroline’s throat. It was a hardness in the mind, a latent fear that was holding back her speech. A fear of failure, a deep-seated belief that using her voice in anything but harsh croaks was impossible. This dread had been there for so long that she had nearly forgotten how to make proper sounds, thus her prophecy fulfilled itself. It would take time to heal, but now Giovanni knew he could help.

    “I heard about your wish for Christmas, Caroline. It’s a tall order to fill, but I’ve got something here that should work as a start.” Giovanni reached into his bag, and pulled out a particular ball that was wrapped in ornate green paper and fastened with a shining red ribbon. Only now did Caroline look back at him, though her lips were tight and her frown remained. Giovanni handed her the present, and she stared at it for a long while. The Rockets and the Sisters were silent, as they didn’t know how this would turn out. Giovanni, however, had a pretty good idea.

    Caroline slowly removed the ribbon and the wrapping, and hesitated with her finger near the Pokéball’s central button. She pressed it, and let the ball open. There was a red flash, and then standing right beside her was a round, pink thing about the size of her torso. It was a Jigglypuff—every vocal therapist’s favorite Pokémon—and straight away it began to hum a sweet little melody. Caroline’s expression was blank, but her eyes were slowly getting wider.

    “If you let her, Caroline, she can help you sing, too.”

    The Jigglypuff kept humming and whistling, smiled at her new trainer, and then made a low, prolonged ‘C.’ Caroline swallowed at the sound of it. And then Caroline did something that no one in the home had heard her try for four long years: she sustained a noise in her vocal chords for three solid seconds. It wavered, and it was a little too flat to call ‘C,’ but it was there. Jigglypuff jumped up, down, and into Caroline’s arms. Caroline’s eyes were closed, her mouth was broken into a smile, and all of the sudden she creaked out a few words,


    Giovanni patted her on the head. “You’re very welcome, Caroline. Merry Christmas!” He then stood and turned to face the others. The Sisters were speechless and brimming over with gratitude, which Giovanni loathed but at least expected. It was the state of the Rockets that got to him, however, as each and every one of them was shedding copious tears.

    ‘Oh no,’ thought Giovanni. ‘This is NOT good.’


    The red suit would not be consumed by the fire until the incinerator had been kicked into overdrive. The deed was now done, and the first thing on Giovanni’s mind was of course to free himself from bondage. He had never felt so thoroughly violated in all his life, and he now intended to return Team Rocket to normal operations and probably drink himself into February. He left the boiler room and slammed the door shut behind him. Just to make sure, he shouted to the empty hallway that he f*cking hated children. This confirmed that the only residual effects of the magic costume would be the nightmares; he was perfectly free to be evil again.

    Giovanni then made his way down to the main hall, and he feared the worst. He took a swig from the flask he had prepared for this dark hour, but it was to no avail. When he stepped into the main hall, the assault on his senses was miserably unadulterated.

    “Hey, look who it is! Merry Christmas, boss!”

    Colorful lights. Fir trees. Paper snowflakes. Elf costumes. Eggnog and cookies. Santa Claus is Coming to Town playing on the loudspeakers. Laughter. Gaiety. Merriment. Jolliness.

    And then came the applause. “Merry Christmas, sir!”, “Three cheers for Giovanni!”, “Yeah, three cheers for St. Nick!”

    Giovanni snapped. “ENOUGH!” he bellowed as he yanked the cord to the stereo out of the wall.

    Silence. Stunned, hurt silence. Giovanni continued. “I will not tolerate this defiance any longer! Get this crap out of my hall and recommence work on the operation to Destroy the World and Everything in It immediately!”

    Nobody moved, and only one of them managed to say anything. “B…but—”

    Giovanni shot down the objection with fire and brimstone in his eyes. “What’s the first tenet of the Rocket’s Law!”

    Everyone stared at the floor and mumbled the answer. “Be a dick.

    “Second tenet!”

    Christmas is stupid.

    “Now carry out your duties!”

    With that, Giovanni stormed out of the room, out of the headquarters, and back to his mansion, where an unhealthy quantity of hard liquor awaited him.


    “This is bullsh*t.”

    “I hear you.”

    “Shut up, assh*les. You want to get shot? Get back to shredding snowflakes.”


    “Seriously, I think something’s way wrong with the boss. What’s the big deal if we throw a little party after the best day at work we’ve ever had?”

    “I know, right? Did you see the smiles on those kids’ faces? I mean really see them?”

    “I got to play with this one kid and his new Sandshrew. I even helped him pick out the name. I swear, it was the most fun I’ve had since I was eight!”

    “We give all those poor kids the best Christmas ever, and then the boss has to go and ruin ours. Makes no sense at all.”

    “You know, I haven’t had Christmas with my family for years.”

    “I haven’t seen mine for years period.”


    “I bet they miss us.”

    “My family sucked, but at least on Christmas they all tried to get along.”

    “I ought to give my mom a call.”

    “Who wants to go to my parents’ place tomorrow for dinner? My family’s big; they won’t care about a few guests.”

    “How? That goes against at least ten different rules. I think even talking to family gets you six months in solitary.”

    “Right, of course. Sorry I mentioned it.”

    “You know what I’m thinking?”

    “I think so.”

    “Me too.”


    Unmitigated disaster. Giovanni was sitting in his study with a bottle of booze in one hand and his face in the other. Over the last three hours, more reports of desertion had come in than there had been in the entire prior history of Team Rocket. By the time it was midnight and officially Christmas the reports had stopped, and Giovanni had the sinking feeling it was because his secretary had deserted as well.

    It was then that the door to the study was opened by a gloved hand, and in walked Santa Claus himself. “Ho, ho, ho! Am I interrupting anything?”

    Giovanni raised his bloodshot eyes toward the sickeningly rotund elf-man. “You…”

    “I was in the neighborhood,” said Santa, motioning to the sack of toys on his back, “and I decided to drop in and thank you for being such a good sport. You’ve saved Christmas in spectacular fashion!”

    Giovanni slammed his fist to his desk. “Saved Christmas my ass. You just wanted to sabotage my entire organization. My troops are jumping ship, and it’s all your fault!”

    “But of course! It’s awfully hard for the good people to focus on Christmas when your rabble is busy stealing their Pokémon and scaring them to death. Now that you’ve shown the ranks the true spirit of love and charity, they won’t be wanting to ruin anyone else’s Christmas again! Christmas is saved not only now but for many years to come!”

    Giovanni seethed. Santa continued. “By the way, don’t forget that promise you made to Sisters Ann and Katie! If those checks don’t get mailed each Christmas to all the places your people visited, I’ll have a thing or two to say about it! Ho, ho, ho!”

    With a wave of his hand, Santa was out the door just in time to avoid being clocked by the bottle of liquor that Giovanni threw at his head.


    And so, Christmastime was thereafter rather different in Viridian City. The Rockets were now practically a parody of what they once had been, and they numbered not one tenth of the force that gave out presents on that fateful Christmas Eve. Those that remained were generally incompetent, often silly, and certainly never came close to destroying the world and everything in it. Moreover, they did nothing to deter the trainers who would sit quietly on a hill outside of town each year on the night before Christmas. Rumor had it, and in this case the rumor had right, that when the date changed to December 25th in Viridian City, those on the hill could hear sleigh bells ringing, and a warm voice in the sky calling,

    Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

    shortly followed by a cold voice in the city shouting,

    F*ck you, Santa! F*ck you in your f*cking face!

    The End

    [I'd like to thank all my friends and readers here at PCFF&W for making my life a little more fun and bright, and I wish you all a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!]
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