A

3:30 A.M. Productions

Fanfic.

By

David Tai & Alan Harnum

"Evolve, Pantyhose, Evolve!"

The Sequel To

A

3:30 A.M. Productions

Fanfic.

By

David Tai & Alan Harnum

"Pantyhose Tarou, I Choose You!"
------------------------------------------

Ash Ketchum was not having a good day.

His newest Pokemon was proving to be quite recalcitrant.

The first time he had tried to train his newest Pokemon...

-*-

"Hi! I'm your trainer for---" Ash managed to squeak out
just before a very large fist circled his neck and began shaking
him around. He was on the verge of losing consciousness when a
bright aura surrounded the Pantyhose.

The next thing he knew, he was staring at the blue sky, as
Misty and Brock leaned over him with looks of concern.

"Where'd the Pantyhose go?"

Misty held out a pokeball. "I got him." She couldn't help
but smirk. "You sure you don't need a woman's touch on this?"

Coming from a girl, Ash wasn't going to take that. Even if
he was two years younger.

"Gimme that!"

"Hmphh."

Misty tossed it back with one of those I-don't-care-about-
this-stupid-thing-anyway looks on her face that foreshadowed even
more future resentment for Ash.

"Now listen!" Ash said forcefully to the pokeball. "I'm a
Pokemon trainer, you're a Pokemon. I train you, and you get
stronger. That's the way it works."

"Ash, maybe it doesn't want to be trained by you," Brock
interjected. "If a Pokemon isn't willing to fight, you can't
make it."

"But... but... it's a Pokemon and I'm a trainer... it's
supposed to listen to me... no, well, there's Charizard... and
Pikachu isn't always too good at..." His voice dropped into a
resentful murmur. "Well, look, at the very least, it isn't
supposed to be trying to maim me."

"Pika." Pikachu tugged at the hem of Ash's pants.

"Not now, Pikachu. I'm busy with this new Pokemon," Ash
said offhandedly.

"Pika..." Pikachu toddled mournfully away towards the
bushes. No one else noticed.

-*-

There's been some great villainous duos in history.

Bonnie and Clyde.

Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.

Mork and Mindy.

And then there's Jessie and James. They had all the makings
of a great team of bad guys: the same fashion sense, a catchy
theme entrance, and great hair. Unfortunately, they had something
else: a complete absence of competence.

All anyone really needed to know to understand Jessie and
James is that their nominal sidekick, Meowth, was the smartest
one; also, that this didn't so much compliment Meowth as it
insulted Jessie and James.

If the collective intelligence of Team Rocket was a car, it
would be powered by a hamster and a wheel. And the hamster would
be overweight.

Right now, the trio lurked (as only villains can) in the
bushes, some distance from the clearing where Ash was currently
attempting to explain the Pokemon trainer-Pokemon status quo,
probably with all the success of, say, Louis XVI explaining the
divine right of kings to Karl Marx.

"Pantyhose! What a scrumptious name!" James said, peering
through an incredibly sophisticated pair of binoculars. Team
Rocket always had great equipment--bombs, ice-rocket guns,
hot air balloons shaped for some reason like Meowth--but this was
countered by their total inability to use it properly. "But so
far away! I can barely make out any details, even with these
binoculars!"

"You're holding them the wrong way round, James."

Case in point.

"Oh my gosh! It's right in front of us!"

"Meowth... more to the point, you two, wouldn't this be an
excellent chance to grab Pikachu? Those three are occupied with
that new Pokemon, and the poor thing's looking _awfully_ lonely."

Jessie tapped a finger on her lips in thought. "But that new
Pokemon looked _very_ strong... and very rare, as well."

"It also looked like it was gonna yank that kid's head off,"
Meowth pointed out.

"Let's get Pikachu," Jessie said quickly.

-*-

If jealousy could be said to have a color, it wouldn't
be green. It would be electric yellow.

Pikachu forlornly wandered away from the crowd. Once
it had been the apple... or banana... of Ash's eye. The
glory had been its. The fame. The applause...

All taken away by a big ugly Pantyhose.

If only...

Continuing to brood, Pikachu failed to note the pit dug
by Team Rocket. It simply toddled over the leaves.

Jessie stared, jaw agape.

James stared, jaw agape.

Meowth stared, jaw agape.

In short, they all stared. Then they leapt out of the bushes
they were hiding in... and started jumping up and down on the pit.

Nothing.

"Well, what now?" James said.

"Meowth, I'm thinking!" Meowth said.

The leaves gave way.

-*-

"Brilliant idea, James, filling it with mud," Jessie said.

"It should have worked," James whined.

Meowth was too busy trying to clean himself to say much,
as Team Rocket walked down the path.

Jessie wiped her eyes clear of mud, then blinked.

Then rubbed her eyes again.

Yellow. Brown stripes. Pikachu.

And asleep too.

She held up a finger to her lips.

"Shhh... is it me, or is that..."

"WOW! That's PI-" James managed to blurt out
before being quickly slammed down by Meowth and Jessie.

"Shhhhhhh!" Jessie looked back at Pikachu, then grinned.

-*-

Ash, Misty and Brock sat in a circle in the clearing, the
pokeball that held Pantyhose the focal point of their three
gazes.

"I don't get it," Ash said, with the edge of a whine to his
voice. "Why doesn't it want to evolve and get strong?"

"Maybe it's like Charizard," Brock mused. "Or Pikachu,
even. Some Pokemon don't want to cooperate with their trainers.
You have to show them who's boss."

Misty waggled an accusatory finger at Ash. "But you can't
be mean about it. Or cruel. Or..."

"Hey! What kind of trainer do you think I am?"

Misty sniffed. "Well, you're certainly not good enough to
train a Pantyhose."

"I am too!"

"The evidence appears to be contrary to that statement." It
was really remarkable, the range of emotion Misty could convey
just by sniffing.

Brock had picked up the pokeball and was tapping it with his
finger. "Maybe the Pokemon doesn't respect your strength, Ash.
Pantyhose is so strong, maybe it expects you to be able to do the
same things it does."

"Like fly, and pick up trees bare-handed," Misty said
snidely. Suddenly, her voice perked up. "Hey, I know! You
should ask Professor Oak."

"That's a good idea," Brock agreed. "But we'll need to find
a phone booth."

"Right!" Ash leapt to his feet. "A phone booth!"

"Togepi... Togepi!"

Misty looked at the cute-but-useless creature tugging at her
ankle with its ridiculously inadequate hands. "What's wrong,
Togepi?"

"Togepi! Togepi!"

"Hey..." Brock looked around the clearing, absently tossing
the pokeball containing Pantyhose to Ash as he did. "Where's
Pikachu?"

"Pikachu!" Ash called, suddenly worried. "Pikachu? Where
are you?"

Laughter from the sky. Familiar laughter.

A simultaneous groan, which would have translated as "Not
again!", if saying "Not again!" on Team Rocket's appearance in
their big stupid Meowth balloon hadn't become excessively
redundant at this point, arose from the trio.

"Prepare for trouble..."

"Make it double..."

"To protect the world from--"

"Pidgeotto, bring them down," Ash said wearily, tossing out a
pokeball with a resigned gesture.

"PIDGEOTTO!"

"Wait! We didn't finish--"

"Meowth, you idiots, just STOP that bird-brain!"

"Right!"

So Jessie and James did something entirely out of character;
they did the right thing at the right time, rather than the wrong
thing at the wrong time, or the right thing at the wrong time, or
the wrong thing at the right time... well, they basically didn't
screw up like they usually did. A few dozen rockets erupted from
the bores of the launchers the Dysfunctional Duo pulled from
nowhere, and Pidgeotto was embedded in a block of ice almost before
it even got off the ground.

"Pidgeotto!" Ash cried, as Team Rocket floated gradually out
of range.

"That'll teach you to interrupt our speech!" James called
back in a sulky voice, in between bouts of laughter.

"Oh, and by the way..." Jessie held up a familiar glass
containtment vessel, in which a dozy Pikachu was entrapped.
"We've got Pikachu, so SUCKS TO BE YOU!"

"Oh no, oh no..." Ash muttered. "Pikachu..."

Misty clenched her fists. "Don't just stand there,
Ash! DO SOMETHING!"

Ash started going through his other pokeballs.

Butterfree? Nope. He'd flown off with his girlfriend. Did
he have any other aerial pokemon? Did Misty or Brock?

Psyduck? No, wait, Psyduck was just a useless yellow blob.
And they were too distant even for a big pokemon like Onix to
reach.

Brock grabbed his shoulders. "ASH! They're getting away!"

Pokeballs littered the ground around Ash, each one discarded
because it was of no use. He stared at the final one in his
hand.

"Oh, man," he said. "This sucks."

-*-

Inside the basket of the balloon was a scene of
unprecendented glee.

James popped open a bottle of champagne, after shaking
it enthusiastically, and sprayed it all around the area. "WE
DID IT!"

Jessie smiled delicately, lowering her head and bringing
the back of her hand to her mouth, and laughed. "Of course
we did! After all, we're brilliant!"

"Team Rocket has DONE IT AGAIN!"

"Meowth. It's one of our more successful missions, isn't--"
Meowth said before he got sprayed with champagne.

Inside the containment jar, Pikachu snored in an adorable
manner.

-*-

Tarou sat sullenly inside the suffocating womb of the
pokeball. The commotion outside was cacophonous, but he tried
his best to ignore it. He was preparing himself for the next
taste of freedom.

Any of those three brats could trap him again in those
little balls now, it seemed. So he had to take them all out
quickly, and then get out of range.

Or... what if there wasn't any range? What if those balls
could always call him back, no matter how far he went? Killing
three kids didn't particularly appeal to him. That would be a
last resort.

"Hey! HEY! Listen up, Pantyhose!"

Still the NAME! How did the brat know his name? Tarou
tried to shake his fist, but there was no room to shake it. If
he spent much more time in here, he'd go insane; it was like
being encased in breathable concrete.

"Look, if you don't want to train with me, that's okay.
I'll even let you go free..."

Tarou would have blinked, if he'd been able to move his
muscles that much.

"...if you just do one thing for me."

A catch. Of course there was a catch.

"Pikachu's been captured by Team Rocket, and they're
escaping. I need you to save Pikachu."

Pikachu? That was the electric yellow rat. The other name
meant nothing.

"I'm gonna let you out of the pokeball. Help us,
Pantyhose."

And the darkness began to dissolve; air, light, freedom...

"Please save Pikachu."

Tarou's mind ran the mental equivalent of a track meet as he
coalesced into being. He could knock the kids out, take all
their balls....

"Please. You're our only hope."

Oh, hell.

If he had to guess, Team Rocket were the ones in the big
stupid cat balloon. He flexed his muscles, surprised to find
them neither sore nor tense from lack of movement, and launched
into the air.

"Yeah! Go, Pantyhose!"

Damn name.

"Go get 'em!"

The kids were _cheering_ for him?

Oh, hell. He looked back, gave them a thumbs-up, and went
to get the ass-kicking over with.

-*-

Team Rocket was too busy cheering and dancing and
unleashing a celebration worthy of a party to notice the
impending doom. They did not, however, fail to notice
the dark shadow that loomed over them. Freezing in place, they
glanced up at the source of said shadow.

And it was then that Jessie and James got their first
good look at the rare specimen.

"Oooh, those muscles!" Jessie exclaimed.

"Pantyhose is the _perfect_ name for such a magnificent
beast!" James added.

Jessie and James swooned, back to back. "Style... grace...
the strength to endure _without_ any unsightly runs. All summed
up in that name--PANTYHOSE!"

Jessie pulled out a pair from her blouse and sighed throatily.
James fanned himself.

Neither of them noticed the growing anger on the Pantyhose's
face.

Meowth, however, most definitely did.

"MEOWTH! Look o---"

-*-

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! NOT THE FACE, Buddy, NOT THE FACE!"
James shouted.

*BIFF*

"EEEEEEK!"

*BLAM*

"MEOWTH!"

*BLOOEY*

"AAA! ARBOK, I CHOOSE Y---"

*POW* *CRUNCH*

"Weezingg! I---"

*SPACONG*

And so it went.

-*-

Ash and company went still, as Pantyhose froze for a moment
and stared at Team Rocket. And then they broke into loud cheers
at the mayhem that ensued, thereby impressing on their young
minds that violence was, indeed, the way to solve problems, even
more than talking.

By the end, Team Rocket's balloon was deflated and hanging
from a tree, and the basket was in pieces on the ground. Jessie,
James and Meowth lay in an unconscious heap nearby, and Weezingg
had been knocked off into the distance by one mighty blow of
Pantyhose's fist.

Pantyhose was currently whipping Arbok back and forth with
one hand, and carefully holding Pikachu's containment jar with
the other. Finally, growing bored at last with repeatedly
smacking the serpentine pokemon into the ground, Pantyhose wound
up and threw it in the same direction Weezing had gone.

With earth-shaking steps, the doughty Pantyhose walked up to
the cheering trio, and presented Pikachu almost delicately to
Ash.

Ash quickly freed Pikachu from the jar. "Pikachu, are you
okay?"

Pikachu yawned. "Pika..."

"Wow!" Brock exclaimed, gazing up at Pantyhose in
admiration. "That was amazing... astounding... incredible..."

Misty embraced one of Pantyhose's legs, the only part of him
she could actually reach. "You were great, Pantyhose! You saved
Pikachu, and beat the snot out of Team Rocket!"

The Pantyhose went rigid; his huge eyes narrowed. Then he
gently reached down and patted Misty on the head. A low, bass
rumble sounded from deep within his massive chest.

She stepped back. "Pantyhose, what's--"

Pantyhose began to glow, as though his body were
transforming into light. Misty took another step back, to stand
with Ash and Brock. The three watched in fascination as the
light swelled and changed shape, growing even larger.

The light faded, and Pantyhose was changed. His fur had
become scales, and his tentacles now appeared metallic; rather
than an eel's head, a long barbed spiked tipped his tail.

He threw back his head, and bellowed, "GARTERHOSE!"

"Wow! He evolved!" Ash pulled out the Pokedex and scanned
the transformed Pantyhose.

"Garterhose," the Pokedex droned. "The evolved form of
Pantyhose. Even stronger and more dangerous than Pantyhose. We
won't even begin to guess at how you managed to stay alive long
enough for Pantyhose to evolve into Garterhose. Whatever you're
doing, stop it. Stop scanning it. Just RUN, you fools, RUN FOR
YOUR--"

"Cool!" Ash turned the pokedex off. "I'm gonna..."

Then he remembered his promise. "Oh yeah. You're free now,
Garterhose. Thanks for your help."

Misty and Brock turned and began to walk away. "Come on,
Ash."

"Bye." Ash waved, and tried to suppress a sniffle. "I'll
never forget you, Garterhose."

"Pikapi!" Pikachu tugged at Ash's pants, then scampered off
after Misty and Brock. With a last regretful glance at the
mighty Garterhose, Ash headed off after his friends.

"We would've made a great team," he muttered with a sigh.

A great hand fell upon his shoulder.

-*-

Unbelievable... the _strength_, the _power_...

The fact that he felt the need to say "Garterhose" every
time he opened his jaws.

So this was what the kid meant by "training"...

The kid looked back, his eyes hopeful. "What is it,
Garterhose?"

"Garterhose! Garterhose!" Tarou gesticulated at himself.

"You want to come with us? Is that it? You want me to be
your trainer after all?"

"Garter, garterhose."

"YAHOO!"

Ash pulled a pokeball. With speed belying his size, Tarou
grabbed it and, careful not to touch the button, crushed it into
powder between his thumb and forefinger.

"...I guess you don't want to go in a pokeball, do you?"

"GARTERHOOOOOOOOSE!"

And so, a beautiful friendship was begun.

Well, no, not really.

-*-

"Hey Ash, why does Garterhose keep on pouring hot water over
himself and screaming?"

"I dunno. Maybe it's some kind of ritual they do after they
evolve."

"Or maybe it's getting ready for mating season."

-*-

BONUS!

UNBELIEVABLE HISTORICAL VALUE!

LIMITED TIME ONLY!

A QUESTION AND ANSWER SECTION WITH DAVID TAI AND ALAN HARNUM,
GALACTICALLY-RENOWNED AUTHORS OF "Pantyhose Tarou, I Choose
You!", and "Evolve, Pantyhose, Evolve!" (Along with a bunch of
other insignificant fics like "Waters Under Earth" and
"Daigakusei no Ranma")

HEY? WHERE DID ALL THE CAPITALS GO?

Quiet, you.

Q: Hey, didn't this series used to be a spamfic? What happened?

David: Um... I forgot what happened. I think someone mentioned
*glares at Alan* Garterhose and Lederhose. And then I just knew
we had to write those. NYAH HAHAHAHAHAHA!

Alan: Quiet, fool! Question our will and DIE!

Q: Alan seems very hostile. Did he have a bad childhood?

David: I dunno. Ask him. *inches away*

Alan: I had to club baby seals to surive!

Q: Cute, fluffy, big-eyed baby seals?

Alan: Yes. They were most adorable... aaaah! Aaaah! DADDY!
Daddy! I don't _want_ to go in the Room of Fire again!

David: Actually, I think Alan encountered that seal Pokemon.
*glances* Alan, you're not channelling Bluebeard again, are you?

Alan: I'm doing no such thing, you fascist!

Q: How cute were these baby seals?

Alan: Cute enough to make legs out of!

Q: Legs?

Alan: Yes, you see, I am a Canadian, eh, and we do not have legs
in Canada, so we have to make them out of baby seals.

David: *clasps hand over Alan's mouth* Er, perhaps if we could
change the subject?

Q: Okay. What's going to happen next?

I WOULD LIKE EVERYONE TO KNOW THAT CHEETOS TASTE VILE. THEY'RE
ORANGE, AND THEY TASTE VILE!

David: LEDERHOSEN! LET US DO THE DANCE OF JOY! WAH HAHAAHAHAHAH!

Alan: Who said that thing about Cheetos?

Q: Look, who's asking the questions here?

Alan: Silence! Obey us or perish! There is no other way! And
we're NOT trying to conquer the world through fanfic!

David: That's right! That's NEXT episode!

Authors' Notes:

We're sorry there weren't 1,000 elephants like we said there'd be.
That was just a lie to make you read the story... because we're
so lonely... so very, very lonely.

Alan Harnum - harnums@thekeep.org / David Tai - dtai@ix.netcom.com
(The fact that this fanfic is 666 lines long is just a coincidence)