Author’s Notes: This was originally written in script form. With the new rule barring script form stories, I’ve had to rework it into some sort of ‘story form’. Not wanting to rewrite it, I simply amended it so that a few "he saids" and "she saids" were added. I’m not doing that because I don’t know any better, but it’s because this is MEANT to be in script form and I’m trying to do the best I can at keeping it that way without violating the rules. Also, I am working on new chapters for Sunrise, Bashin’ of the Mice-st, A White Tomorrow is Waiting, a yet untitled My Little Pony fanfic, AND this, all at the same time – I probably won’t be uploading anything more over the summer, but instead just writing and then uploading once I’m back in college. This is mostly some throwaway goofiness, to give you a laugh (and hopefully some groans at how horrible the typical pokemorph story is, sadly), just a little boost to hopefully tide my loyal readers over until some real writing on my more serious minded stories can be produced (I’ve had writers cramp for so long, and seriously need to get out of it!). Until then, adeiu: -)

PS: Visit my website too, if you desperate to read more morphic stuff. I’m sure the perfect book is lurking there waiting for you to discover it! http/ Parka Girl

The Shadow of a Thousand Stars: Rebellion! (AKA "Pokémorphs", or "The Morphic Adventures of Miss Mary Sue")

Introduction

Dearest readers,

You have no doubt encountered the type of genre here on known as the Pokémorph Story. Although some people apply the label to those Animorph rip-off fics where a group of kids are granted the power to change into Pokémon, those fics are not what I mean. What I actually do mean are those stories about Anthropomorphic Pokémon Characters, which generally range from humans with a few external Pokémon features to upright, clothes-wearing, talking, humanoid Pokémon. As a lover of the idea of Pokémorphs, and a writer, in fact, of such stories, I am disappointed in the sameness of so many of the tales I encounter in this genre (but thankfully not all). They, for the most part, have the same cookie-cutter plots, the same bizarre titles generally involving darkness and celestial bodies or words like ‘revolution’ or ‘rebellion’ (hence the title of this story), or, worse, simply called "Pokémorphs"; bland, flat characters; and little in the way of good writing skills. They were just begging to be parodied, and I was happy to oblige.

Anyway, what follows is a parody of the standard Pokémorph Story. People not familiar with the genre might not get the all the jokes or references but I hope it will amuse anyhow. I do not intend to hurt any feelings with this story! So, to people who do write stories that sound a lot like what follows, no offense! I’m NOT saying your fics are bad, just that so many people have used the same ideas. Let us journey forth, and hope that Pokémorph Stories will improve in quality in the future!

Fare thee well,

The Author

Chapter One

In Which the Kids are Kidnaped

(Our story begins in a peaceful suburb. It is a nice neighborhood, with clapboard houses lined up in rows, each sitting on a perfect green lawn free of dandelions, spotted with shady oaks and sycamore. The streets are clean, and the joggers clean up after their Growlithe and Houndour. The sky is a beautiful bright blue, and not a speck of rain ever fell on anyone’s barbecue parties. It was the perfect Anytown, Anyplace, with friendly people and smiling faces. We change perspective, focusing on one of the flawless white houses. The camera zooms, and we peer in through the window, at an amazingly beautiful young girl. She blinks, pulls the covers back, and sits up, looking about.)

Says the Amazingly Beautiful Young Girl, "Hmph. Morning all ready?"

(Her name is actually Celeste Riverdrop Moonbeam Flutewhiste, but for the sake of brevity we shall call her "Mary Sue." She climbs out of bed, brushing some of her silky, shampoo-commercial perfect honey blonde hair out of her eyes. She peers in the mirror, taking in her perfect, flawless features. Her most unusual feature had to be her strange and hauntingly beautiful eyes, which of course were colored skilligimink And if you don’t know what the color skilligimink looks like, the author suggests you read more Howard Garis.. Now you know when a character has got an unusual eye color in these types of stories she’s bound to have some sort of secret, magical power. It is, of course, a rule, established by whoever starts genre clichés, although the efforts of many a scientist has never shown any special correlation between eye color and inheritance of superpowers. Anyway, our girl’s power was you guessed it talking to Pokémon, making her a regular John Doolittle, or at least an Eliza Thornberry/Tommy Stubbins type of character. She examined herself for a bit more, before tossing some clothes on and heading downstairs for her breakfast. Her mother greets her.)

Says Mother, "Good morning, Mary Sue. Did you have a good sleep?"

Mary Sue replies with a nod of her head, "It was perfect, Mom."

(She finishes eating her Frosted Flakes, tosses her backpack over her shoulder, kisses her mom on the cheek and hurries out to meet the bus. She waits at the bus stop a moment, peering about, before catching sight of her best friends. The boy was named Clint, a typical, suitably masculine title. There were two girls, one named Laura and the other Rachel. Despite the differences in gender and name, they were all basically the same character – at this point in the story - one dimensional, and there only so they can help bolster Mary Sue’s image.)

Says Clint, "Mary Sue, have you heard?"

Replies Mary Sue curiously, "Heard what?"

Rachel says, giggling, "I take that as a no."

Clint glares and says, "Anyway, Team Rocket is at it again! The police think that they are the ones behind this recent bizarre rash of kidnapings!"

Mary Sue shouts in shock, "Team Rocket! The scoundrels! What on earth could they possibly want to kidnap children for?"

Answers Laura melodramatically, "That’s it…nobody knows…"

She giggles a bit at her own pretend-schmaltzy dialogue; knowing, of course, only Mary Sue could get the real schmaltzy dialogue.)

Rachel responds, "Ah, well, I don’t think it’s anything to worry about myself. I mean, it’s not as if Team Rocket would want to take US for anything…"

(Little do they know that they are totally wrong, and that some evil clichéd Rocket members are out on the prowl for some choice specimens this very moment! Although in a realistically written fanfic they would wait until the fall of night to try any funny business, they, being typical cardboard clichés instead of individual Rocket members with some brains, decided to hang around IN THE SCHOOL and wearing their Rocket uniforms, at that, right in glaringly public view! Of course, they hadn’t tried to kidnap anybody yet, but they were obviously waiting for Mary Sue and her friends. Why settle for all those other choice students when they could have the story’s main characters? Anyway, back at the bus stop…)

Says Mary Sue, "Why must the bus take forever to come?"

(The four friends yes! Four! There are always four or sometimes three in these stories! hear the bus chug along, and they glance at the road, the big yellow machine slowly coming to a stop before them. They climb on, Clint sitting with Mary Sue and Laura sitting with Rachel.)

Says Mary Sue, "Clint, when did you hear about Team Rocket?"

Clint answers, grinning, "They conveniently aired a program about it today on the news. Good thing I get up in time for the five o’clock show!"

Mary Sue stutters anxiously, "You don’t think they’re the reason Gary Stu vanished last week, do you? I can’t think of anything bad happening to poor old Gary Stu!"

Clint, with a bit of a sigh, says "They could be, Mary Sue. They could be."

(He sighs a bit)

Finishes Clint, "Anyway, we’re safe from them at school…"

(The old bus pulls up at the school, a perfect, brand new, beauty of a seventh through twelfth grade learning establishment. The perfect, typical teenagers mill past, not one outfit out of fashion, not one sign of typical teenage malice. Mary Sue, Clint, Laura and Rachel all get off, hoping to forget the Rocket rumors. They saunter down the halls, of course not noticing the mass gathering of Rockets in the cafeteria. To notice would have been un-cliché-like, and in this fanfic, where clichés dominate and nothing original ever happens, that would have been bad. After all, we’d be giving the main characters more intelligence than they actually have – and no one wants to see something as terrible as an intelligent Mary Sue who actually IS intelligent!)

Mary Sue mutters, staring at the clock, "Will lunch ever come?"

(She sits, not paying any attention to her lesson, and watches as the clock slowly makes its way to twelve o’clock, second by second, minute by minute. She couldn’t wait to get to the cafeteria and hear the latest beef on the Rocket kidnaping rumor. Had any other kids in the area mysteriously vanished? Had Gary Stu been found? And, most fascinating of all, just what did the Rockets do with the kids?)

Says the twelve o’clock bell, "DONG! DONG! DONG! DONG!"

Mary Sue shouts, delighted, "There goes the bell!"

(Quicker than it takes to say ‘this fic is awful’ she leaps up out of her seat and down to the cafeteria, sitting down next to Clint, Laura and Rachel. They still don’t notice the Rockets.)

Laura says, as she holds her pet Skitty, which is of course allowed in the school, sanitation laws never being applicable in these types of fics "Mary Sue, maybe my little Floofykins here knows what’s up with the kidnapings. Think you can ask her?"

Mary Sue answers proudly, "Thanks for asking me and therefore allowing me to show off my amazing talent, Laura!"

(She grins to herself, her skilligimink eyes glittering in pleasure. She turns to Floofykins the Skitty and chatters away.)

Mary Sue asks, "Do you know anything about these mysterious kidnapings?"

Floofykins responds, speaking with typical human intelligence, which, despite that fact that Pokémon are animals and would therefore would not have nowhere near as highly a developed language as mankind, saying "Hmm…I’d have to think about that. After all, since you are the amazing girl who talks to Pokémon, it’s cliché for you to get all your information from non-human informants. Let’s just say they’re doing it to work on a project with the all too typical, unimaginative name of ‘Project Morph.’ Could it get more self explanatory?"

(With that, Floofykins turns about and takes a massive bite out of Laura’s lunch, a nice, crunchy taco.

Rachel with a starry-eyed glance, says "What’d she say, what she’d say?"

Mary Sue replies, while gloating, of course, "She says the kidnapings are for something called ‘Project Morph’…I wonder what that could mean?"

(All four shake their heads, of course having no clue. The characters in these stories never do.)

Mary Sue whispers, "I just hope that Gary Stu’s okay…"

(And then…

The Rockets leap up! The four friends, finally aware of their existence, gape in surprise.)

Rachel screams, cowering, "Don’t take us! Don’t take us! Look at all the other several hundred students in the room, all of which know what you’re doing and will be able to give the police the information they need to end your evil days forever! Take them, not me!"

(Mary Sue glances at her, disgusted.)

Mary Sue, in a noble tone, rebuts with "No. Take me. This is my destiny. I can feel it in our bones. As people we are each born for a special purpose, a trail that will take us to many hardships, both good and bad. As the obligatory flat main characters, our fate lays with the Rockets. And as Mary Sue, it is my duty to recite these speeches and make sure I am the one who nobly sacrifices themselves to save her friends and…"

(She never gets to finish her windbag speech, as the Rockets magically whip a net out of nowhere and toss it over the four, somehow managing to capture them in it despite the many obstacles, such as the tables, benches, and other students that stood in the way. And, as quick as that, the net is scooped up, yup, right in front of many students and teachers who of course don’t lift a hand to stop them or, for that matter, even report the details to the police. They hustle their bustle quicker than anything to their conveniently nearby truck and toss the kids in back. They’re never placed gently in the back, or even slammed into the back. Always tossed. Perhaps the typical Rocket stooges think their experiments turn out better if the kids are tossed. Anyway, they are driven far far away, to the deep depths of the hidden lair of Rockets…and the stereotyped horrors that lay within.)