Jolene
Your huckleberry friend
- 1,289
- Posts
- 15
- Years
- Age 29
- Seen Apr 18, 2025
It was a warm July morning, and Ken Sugimori was making his way down to the Kyoto shopping mall to return his Beatles t-shirt because it was too big for him, though he was still wearing it for some reason. The streets were packed, and he could barely see where he was walking as he made his way through the crowds. He dodged into a back alley to try to avoid the masses of people, and there he happened upon a strange old man. The man was dressed in a style reminiscent of old Japanese sages, and he had an air of mystery about him. He stared at Ken.
"Why, hello stranger," said the man. "I tell your fortune?"
Ken didn't have time for this. He wanted to return his Beatles t-shirt before the shops became too crowded. "Sorry," he said. "I'm not really into that kinda stuff"
"Oh?" The fortune teller was surprised. "But don't you want to know whether you have happy in life?"
"I'm happy right now, thanks," replied Ken, hoping that the fortune teller would back down and let him be on his way. That wasn't to be.
"You have wearing Beatles t-shirt," said the fortune teller. "Reading is free for man who wearing Beatles t-shirt. You sure you no want fortune?"
Ken realised that the man was just going to continue pestering him, so he agreed to let him read his fortune and get it over with quickly. The fortune teller lead Ken to a small market stall tucked away in one of the back alleys. It was a typical setting for a fortune teller to work in, with purple curtains hanging on the walls, and crystals on strings across the walls. The fortune teller and Ken knelt down on a mat in the middle of the room, and then he read Ken's palms.
"Oh, you fascinating," exclaimed the fortune teller. "Your mind, it so full of colorful creatures!"
The fortuner teller dug deeper into Ken's mind. "I see something another," he said. "Your finest creation. Your masterpiece: a bee. The threefold bee with smiles."
"You mean Combee?" wondered Ken.
"Yes, that is the name I see in your mind," said the fortune teller. "You must tell me, how you come up with such glorious creature?"
"Aren't you supposed to be able to read minds?" Ken asked, rather cynically.
"I see the future," snapped the fortune teller. "You tell me the past. How did you create Combee? What inspired you create the Combee?"
"Well..." Ken thought for a moment, and then remembered. "It was about five years ago. It all started when my friends told me about this party they wanted me to go to. I wasn't going to go at first - I was going to stay home and work on some new Pokemon designs, but they kept insisting that I didn't go out enough and eventually they pressured me into going. Well, I'm glad I did go though, 'cause I met this girl. Absolutely lovely, she was. Before I knew it, the two of us were great friends. Turns out she was a beekeeper. She was really passionate about her beekping, and I guess there's something about that which i really admired. That's what inspired me to create Combee."
"Ah," exclaimed the fortune teller. "So it because of the party why you create the Combee?"
"I guess so, yeah."
"So if you not go to the party, then you not create the Combee?" asked the fortune teller. "If you stayed at home with the designing, then Combee not exist now? Combee exist because of your choice?"
"Uh... Yeah..." Ken was confused. Why was this important?
"What if you could make choice again? What if you could choose to stay at home and have a designing?"
"I wouldn't choose to stay at home. If I'd stayed at home, I wouldn't have met that nice girl or invented Combee."
The fortune teller's tone suddenly became sinister. "What if you had no choice but to re-make that choice?" he asked. "Look into my eyes, Ken. I'm sending you back. I'm sending you back to five years ago, to the evening before that party. Make that choice again, Ken. Make it so that Combee does not exist."
5 years earlier
Ken Sugimori was sitting at the desk in his apartment, racking his brain for ideas for new Pokemon designs. He'd been working for three months solid, and people were becoming worried about him. There was a knock at his door. It was his two best friends, Hiyao Miyazaki and the ghost of Gunpei Yokoi. He let them in.
"Ken," started Miyazaki. "Me and Yokoi are thinking that maybe it's not healthy for you to be cooped up in here all day. Why don't you come out and hang with us, like you always used to?"
"I'm sorry, guys," said Ken. "But I have to finish these designs or else Nintendo will have me executed. You know how it goes, right?"
Yokoi nodded empathetically.
"But Ken, we just got invited to this huge party over at Neil Gaiman's place. It's going to be great."
"I'm sorry guys, I doubt I'll be able to make it," sighed Ken. "I just have too much work to do."
"Ken, I really think you should come to this party." Miyazaki seemed really worried. "It's not right for you to stay in here all day."
"I'm not going to the party guys," said Ken. "And that's final. I mean, what's the worst that could happen if I don't go?"
2 years later
It was a chilly February afternoon, and Barrack Obama's daughter, Malia Ann, was sitting in her bedroom playing Pokemon Diamond on her Nintendo DS. She had just reached Floaroma Town, and she was starting to feel as though something was missing from her game. She kept slathering honey on the trees in the game, expecting something important to show up, but nothing ever did. She eventually decided that there was something wrong with her game, so she decided to return it to the store. However, her dad was out to work so he couldn't give her a lift down to the game store, and her mom was too busy, so Malia Ann ended up takmaking the dangerous journey down to the game store all by herself.
Two hours later, she still hadn't returned, so her mom tried to ring her up and ask where she was. There was no response. She began to worry that something terrible had happened. Later that night, a news report confirmed Malia's whereabouts: She had been hit by a lorry, and was dead.
Barrack Obama was overcome with grief. He blamed himself, for letting his career get in the way of his family. Later that week, he announced his resignation from politics.
But that was just the start. Now that Combee had been removed from existance, the darkness that she had kept at bay would continue to spread, seeping through the cracks of our broken society, and changing the very nature of our world. The sequence of events set in motion by her disappearance will culminate in one final tragedy: the end of the world!
TO BE CONTINUED
"Why, hello stranger," said the man. "I tell your fortune?"
Ken didn't have time for this. He wanted to return his Beatles t-shirt before the shops became too crowded. "Sorry," he said. "I'm not really into that kinda stuff"
"Oh?" The fortune teller was surprised. "But don't you want to know whether you have happy in life?"
"I'm happy right now, thanks," replied Ken, hoping that the fortune teller would back down and let him be on his way. That wasn't to be.
"You have wearing Beatles t-shirt," said the fortune teller. "Reading is free for man who wearing Beatles t-shirt. You sure you no want fortune?"
Ken realised that the man was just going to continue pestering him, so he agreed to let him read his fortune and get it over with quickly. The fortune teller lead Ken to a small market stall tucked away in one of the back alleys. It was a typical setting for a fortune teller to work in, with purple curtains hanging on the walls, and crystals on strings across the walls. The fortune teller and Ken knelt down on a mat in the middle of the room, and then he read Ken's palms.
"Oh, you fascinating," exclaimed the fortune teller. "Your mind, it so full of colorful creatures!"
The fortuner teller dug deeper into Ken's mind. "I see something another," he said. "Your finest creation. Your masterpiece: a bee. The threefold bee with smiles."
"You mean Combee?" wondered Ken.
"Yes, that is the name I see in your mind," said the fortune teller. "You must tell me, how you come up with such glorious creature?"
"Aren't you supposed to be able to read minds?" Ken asked, rather cynically.
"I see the future," snapped the fortune teller. "You tell me the past. How did you create Combee? What inspired you create the Combee?"
"Well..." Ken thought for a moment, and then remembered. "It was about five years ago. It all started when my friends told me about this party they wanted me to go to. I wasn't going to go at first - I was going to stay home and work on some new Pokemon designs, but they kept insisting that I didn't go out enough and eventually they pressured me into going. Well, I'm glad I did go though, 'cause I met this girl. Absolutely lovely, she was. Before I knew it, the two of us were great friends. Turns out she was a beekeeper. She was really passionate about her beekping, and I guess there's something about that which i really admired. That's what inspired me to create Combee."
"Ah," exclaimed the fortune teller. "So it because of the party why you create the Combee?"
"I guess so, yeah."
"So if you not go to the party, then you not create the Combee?" asked the fortune teller. "If you stayed at home with the designing, then Combee not exist now? Combee exist because of your choice?"
"Uh... Yeah..." Ken was confused. Why was this important?
"What if you could make choice again? What if you could choose to stay at home and have a designing?"
"I wouldn't choose to stay at home. If I'd stayed at home, I wouldn't have met that nice girl or invented Combee."
The fortune teller's tone suddenly became sinister. "What if you had no choice but to re-make that choice?" he asked. "Look into my eyes, Ken. I'm sending you back. I'm sending you back to five years ago, to the evening before that party. Make that choice again, Ken. Make it so that Combee does not exist."
5 years earlier
Ken Sugimori was sitting at the desk in his apartment, racking his brain for ideas for new Pokemon designs. He'd been working for three months solid, and people were becoming worried about him. There was a knock at his door. It was his two best friends, Hiyao Miyazaki and the ghost of Gunpei Yokoi. He let them in.
"Ken," started Miyazaki. "Me and Yokoi are thinking that maybe it's not healthy for you to be cooped up in here all day. Why don't you come out and hang with us, like you always used to?"
"I'm sorry, guys," said Ken. "But I have to finish these designs or else Nintendo will have me executed. You know how it goes, right?"
Yokoi nodded empathetically.
"But Ken, we just got invited to this huge party over at Neil Gaiman's place. It's going to be great."
"I'm sorry guys, I doubt I'll be able to make it," sighed Ken. "I just have too much work to do."
"Ken, I really think you should come to this party." Miyazaki seemed really worried. "It's not right for you to stay in here all day."
"I'm not going to the party guys," said Ken. "And that's final. I mean, what's the worst that could happen if I don't go?"
2 years later
It was a chilly February afternoon, and Barrack Obama's daughter, Malia Ann, was sitting in her bedroom playing Pokemon Diamond on her Nintendo DS. She had just reached Floaroma Town, and she was starting to feel as though something was missing from her game. She kept slathering honey on the trees in the game, expecting something important to show up, but nothing ever did. She eventually decided that there was something wrong with her game, so she decided to return it to the store. However, her dad was out to work so he couldn't give her a lift down to the game store, and her mom was too busy, so Malia Ann ended up takmaking the dangerous journey down to the game store all by herself.
Two hours later, she still hadn't returned, so her mom tried to ring her up and ask where she was. There was no response. She began to worry that something terrible had happened. Later that night, a news report confirmed Malia's whereabouts: She had been hit by a lorry, and was dead.
Barrack Obama was overcome with grief. He blamed himself, for letting his career get in the way of his family. Later that week, he announced his resignation from politics.
But that was just the start. Now that Combee had been removed from existance, the darkness that she had kept at bay would continue to spread, seeping through the cracks of our broken society, and changing the very nature of our world. The sequence of events set in motion by her disappearance will culminate in one final tragedy: the end of the world!
TO BE CONTINUED