Chapter 11 – I Cubone’d Yer Mom!

You unlock this door with the key of imagination. Beyond it is another dimension – a dimension of sound, a dimension of sight, a dimension of mind. You’re moving into a land of both shadow and substance, of things and ideas. You’ve just crossed over into the Pokemon Tower… Zone!

Today’s terrifying tale is a story of love, of attachment, of a longing for eternal peace, but mostly a story of one boy beating the living crap out of a bunch of possessed channelers on his way to get a musical instrument.

“This place is cold. And it smells like dying.” Gom said, as he begun his climb up the dark, dank Pokemon Tower. “Actually, it reminds me of a public restroom in a Pokemon Center…”


“What the… was that you? What the hell kind of noise is that?”

“This is how possessed people laugh!”

Gom was confused. He didn’t know that possessed people had a special kind of laugh. However, the dark look of evil in the eyes of his new adversary told him that this was, indeed, a person possessed. Possessed by demons. Possessed by the lost souls of those who died with malice in their hearts. Possessed by…

“Possessed by a terrible fashion sense, maybe! BaZING!”

“Hey, shut up! You meanie… I mean… I WILL HAVE YOUR SOUL!”

There are often stories of the supernatural. Unexplained phenomenon involving ghosts and the possession of human hosts. But what many people know is that these tales are, in fact, true. The souls of the dead, wandering without a way to the other side, will often take over human hosts to do their evil bidding. And by evil bidding, I mean… well… Pokemon battles. Because even the freakin’ undead want to Pokemon battle…

“Gastly, I choose you!”

“Really, a floating purple ball thing?”

“Shut up, the character designers worked really, really hard on this one!”

“It’s eyes are bigger than it’s head! Look, I can see the edges sticking out past the end of the ball!”

“It’s a GHOST, idiot. Ghosts… don’t have physical bodies… so their eyes can float freely. As can their… teeth and mouth I guess… I don’t know, shut up. It’s a spooky ghost, why aren’t you scared!?”

“Because it looks like a gumball is about to rape me. I mean, I guess the prospect of that is scary. But still… Atkins, can you please take care of this?”

The all-mighty Pikachu stumbles out of it’s Pokeball to help ward off the evil spirits floating around Gom. After finishing it’s sandwich, Atkins faces it’s foe. A crack of thunder rumbles the entire tower.

“Actually, I think that was just the tower swaying from Atkins’ fat ass. BaZi… GAH!”

Before Gom can finish his misguided crack at Atkins’ weight, he is shocked by a Thunderbolt. Atkins turns to Gastly and powers up.

“Gastly. Gasssssstly. Gas. Um… boo? Sorry, I’m kinda bad at this ghost thing. I sorta just… float here and hope that people find my absence of any discernible features so unsettling that it makes them wet themselves. Mostly I just pretend to be a bowling ball and then bite people when they shove their thumb in my mouth. I mean, I’m at a bit of a disadvantage since I don’t have any limbs, ya know? I mean, at least Boo’s get arms! Freakin’ white ghosts, always keepin’ the black ghost down!”

Atkins stares at Gastly with a look of bewilderment on his face. He was not ready to face this level of true terror. Something that makes even the bravest of the brave quiver with unequaled fear. The most hideous, evil hell-sent thing of all time: A boring, long-winded story from someone who likes to talk a lot.

“No, but in all honesty. What the hell does a Boo even do? Damn thing is SHY?! Seriously, you’re a GHOST, and you get stage fright? That’s completely ridiculous! Can you use Mean Look? How about Night Shade? Didn’t think so, you just sit there and hope that someone is dumb enough to accidentally jump onto you. And yet, people still consider them the better ghost. It’s racism, I tell you! The white ghosts are always given a free ride, while my people…er… um… ghost…people continue to be held down by the man! I demand that…”

Before Gastly can finish, Atkins loses it. With a rage-filled outburst of electrical power, Atkins lets out a scream and proceeds to shock the ever-loving dung out of Gastly. The ghost disappears.

“What, huh… oh. We won… good job, Atkins. It’s a good thing you took care of that evil talkative ghost! I freakin’ hate when people go off on tangents. It’s like this one guy I went to school with, I think his name was John or Joe or something with a J… or maybe it was a K? Kevin? Kyle? No no, definitely a J. Jerry? I don’t know, anyway, Jay would go off on these crazy tangents every time he’d talk. Like, he’d start telling you about his Aunt’s boil that was shaped like Kentucky… or was it Connecticut? Which one is shaped like a box with a penis? Connecticut right? Why is there a weird C in ‘Connecticut’ have you ever noticed that? It’s spelled CONNECT-icut, but we don’t pronounce that other C. It should be ‘Conneticut’ or something, hah. Weird. Anyway, he would start talking about this boil, but then he’d…”

Atkins Thunderbolt’s Gom again.

“…sorry… sorry. Jerk. Anyway, evil possessed channeler, we have defeated you and cleansed your body of spirits!”

I Ask Myself The Same Thing When I Write These Stories…

It was true, the channeler was no longer possessed. She looked at Gom and said “Oh, Gom. You are perhaps the most sexy and heroic person I’ve ever met! Thank you for saving me! Let’s make out. You can totally use tongue.”

Wait, there is no way in hell that’s what she said!

“Dude, that’s SO what she said!”

Bullshit. You’re lying!

“Why would… no way! I swear it… she… well, ok. Maybe I’m over-exaggerating a bit…”

Not only that, but you’re currently having a discussion with yourself within a story. That’s like… three different levels of whacko.

“…I thought you were supposed to be Rod Serling. This is a Twilight Zone parody…”

Do you honestly think it’s better that you’re having a discussion with a dead television show host? Not to mention the fact that I’m not Rod Serling, I’m you doing a terrible parody of Rod Serling. And only bringing it up for this particular joke. Think about that. The real scary thing here is that you thought this was worth including in this chapter.

“You have bested me once again, Rod Serling! And this is why you shall forever remain my mortal enemy!”

Moving on. Gom and Atkins finally reached the top of the spooky tower. The haunting wails of dead pokemon, including the WAILS of WAILords, echoing behind them. With clenched fists, and even tighter clenched sphincter muscles, they faced down the boss of the evil spirits. Gom held the Silph Scope, the device trembling in his hands. The ghost’s true identity was revealed!

“It’s a… Marowak? Well that’s a bit underwhelming. I was expecting it to be like… the ghost of some crazed serial killer or something. What’s up, Marowak?”

The Marowak glanced down at Gom and Atkins, a look of sadness hidden on it’s face. We think. It’s sorta hard to tell since it has a skull stuck on it’s head. In fact, it could look really benevolent and sweet under there, we just don’t know.

Speaking directly into Gom’s mind, Marowak revealed it’s tale of pain and woe. How she was killed by the evil Team Rocket while protecting it’s Cubone children. Years of wandering between realms, searching for a way to protect her children from even beyond the grave causing her soul to become restless, violent.

“Dude, that is WAY too depressing for a Pokemon story! I mean… really. Dead mothers? Most of the people who have experienced this game are children! They like… just found out that their pets didn’t just go to ‘some farm up North’ and now you’re going to tell them that their mothers not only can die at any moment, but could also be stuck in some kind of sick limbo, feeling nothing but pain and anger?! That’s fucked up, Japan. That is seriously… seriously fucked up.”

Indeed it is fucked up, but this is just one of many tales about dead mothers haunting people. For it is said, that every time you masturbate, you doom your mother to an eternity of suffering and pain. She is forced to walk this Earth, neither dead nor alive, lost to time, with disappointment and grief in her loving, mother heart. Shame on you. Shame on yourself for masturbating so much.  You make all mothers dead and alive sad. Stop that. No, seriously, I know you’re doing it right now. Cut that out!

Marowak continues speaking with Gom. Pleading with him to find it in his heart to help her find peace, to help her be at rest once and for all. To find it in his heart to be gentle, kind, and understanding. To help…

“Wetback, use Bubblebeam!”

In an instant, the soul of Marowak is blasted with water, being washed from this reality. So much for being gentle, kind, and understanding…

“Hey, it got the job done, didn’t it!”

Indeed it did. Moving to the top of the tower, Gom is met by Team Rocket. Of course, a few grunts at the top of the tower really doesn’t compare to storming their hideout and beating the crap out of an entire division, and then their boss. Gom has finally rescued Mr. Fiji, the kind old man who…

“What the fuck took you so long, you ugly little shit!”

…The kinda mean old…

“No, seriously. I’ve been up here for days, asshole! What, you stopped to go shopping like a little girl, didn’t you?! Honestly, you kids these days are pathetic and weak. When I was your age, I used to fight off gangs using only sticks and pebbles! And I was naked! Not because we didn’t have clothing, but because it used to be just fine for a man to walk around naked. There was no shame in it. Not like you wimpy little punks today, with your fancy ‘Pants’. Pants. Pathetic.”

…the enormous dickweed old man who holds a gift to help Gom on his journey.

“Yeah, here, take your gay little flute you fairy. Piss off.”

And with that, Gom finally had the Pokeflute! With it, he would be able to wake the mighty Snorlax, and…

“Play Freebird!”

…fuckin’ every time! Honestly, the “Freebird” shout just isn’t funny anymore! Stop it already. Anyway, with the Pokeflute in hand, and the satisfaction of knowing that he viciously pummeled the ghost of a sad mother looking for peace, Gom continued his quest. Heading off for new adventures in…

The Twilight Zone! I mean… Six Balls And A Dream.

“You know what I hate most about kids these days? Those crazy iPods. When I was your age, we only had an anal suppository for our music. That’s right. We shoved vinyls right up our asses like MEN! Sure, the sound quality was a bit SHITTY, but…”

Atkins used Thunderbolt.

<Chapter Ten — Table Of Contents — >


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s