I wrote this today instead of working on a paper for my class, which means I'll probably fail my classes for the semester and then lose my job and starve to death, just for you (whoever you are). I hope you're happy.

Also, I'm serious about the title. Someone help me think up a better title. My old one was dumb, but I can't think of anything even moderately better that doesn't sound like I spent 5 minutes randomly generating words in a name generator or something.

If you leave it up to me, it'll just end up being named something like "This Is A Story About A Person, And Stuff Happens From Time to Time."

And while that sums up everything pretty much, I'd rather not use it.


DISCLAIMER: I own Samuel, but you can have him if you want. Mimes are dumb.

Chapter 8 – This Chapter Has A Mime

[Recap] Aero returned to Viridian City just long enough to be taught the finer aspects of catching Pokémon by some random old person. He also received a portable television that's apparently only good for picking up television programs that teach idiots how to play a really simple video game, and foreign pornography that may or may not be highly illegal.

Afterwards, Aero headed to route 2 for a whole three and a half seconds before entering Viridian Forest, which ended up being an annoying maze of nature filled with annoying kids with an insect fetish. After walking around lost for a while, and fighting off hoards of idiots with bugs, Aero managed to exit the forest on the other side of Route 2, which is luckily a stone's throw away from Pewter City, and Aero's first badge.

Ha ha, stone's throw. Y'know, Pewter City? Rock-type gym? Stone? It's funny, laugh dammit! [/Recap]

Aero stepped out of the building that marked the end of his trek through Viridian Forest, and into Pewter City's portion of Route 2. The divide between Route 2 and Pewter City was literally a few steps away.

Suddenly, Aero's vision was filled with a sea of orange, as an orange sheet of paper was unceremoniously pressed against his face.

Aero, irritated by the sudden invasion of his personal space, grabbed the paper out of the air. With the obstruction gone, Aero could properly make out the offender. A white-faced man with a black and white striped outfit.


"Welcome to Pewter City!" exclaimed the mime. "You can call me Samuel!"

"Mimes don't talk."

"All my friends call me Samuel!"

"We're not friends."

"I'd like it if we could become friends."


Samuel frowned. "Why not?"

"Because you're a talking mime."

"What's wrong with mimes?" Samuel pouted.


"Then why can't we be friends?"

"Because you're not a mime. You're a talking mime."

"That's a problem?"

"Yes." Aero looked down at the orange paper in his hand. "What the hell is this flyer for anyway?"

"Pamphlet." corrected Samuel.


"That there is my Welcome-To-Pewter-City Pamphlet!" the mime said proudly. "I'm a proud member of the Pewter City Welcoming Committee!"

"But this is only one single sheet of paper."


"So that makes it more of a flyer than a pamphlet."

"PAMPHLEEEEETTTTTTT." Samuel screeched loudly.

"…" Aero blinked. "Okay then." He proceeded to crumple the flyer up into a little wad of orange paper, and then threw it into the tall grass to the side.

The mime frowned. "Littering is wrong, you know."

"Yeah? Well so are talking mimes. Now get the fuck out of my way already."

Samuel continued to frown, refusing to uproot himself from the middle of the road. "I'm not moving until you pick up your trash. Pewter City is a clean and prosperous place, and I will not allow you to sully its fine name with your acts of littering!"

Aero shoved him aside into the tall grass.

"Hey! What are you doing?! Violence is wro-"


Enemy PIDGEY attacks!

Samuel is out of usable Pokémon!
Samuel whited out!


Samuel suddenly vanished from the tall grass, as he was whisked away to the nearest Pokémon Center by the will of the game's internal programming. Unfortunately for Samuel, the last time he was in a Pokémon Center was years ago, and now the building was being used as a meat processing plant, where he was eventually packaged into a form resembling those tiny sausages people eat for breakfast.

Much to the chagrin of the employees, the sausages retained a pasty white color with black stripes. They were going to recall all the strange mime-sausage, but the advertising department stepped in at the last second and started marketing it as a special limited time product. It ended up being so popular, that meat companies started actively hunting helpless mimes in secrecy in order to continue making the specialty sausage.

Nobody cared, because mimes are weird.

Back in the present, a wild Pidgey was standing around looking rather confused, for it hadn't even had a chance to attack, due to Samuel not even having a Pokémon in the first place. Aero punted it into the woods, out of his hatred for Pidgey. It was never seen again.

Yes, I totally just went and used that joke again. Fuck you.

Aero headed towards Pewter's Pokémon Center, Cinnamon in tow. Fucknugget was still fainted like usual. "Fuckin' talking mimes…" Aero muttered to himself.

The interior of the Pokémon Center was almost identical to the interior of the former Viridian City Pokémon Center. A nurse George was sitting behind the counter with a bored expression. Aero walked up to the counter, and placed Fucknugget's pokéball in front of nurse George.


The nurse cocked an eyebrow. "…What?"

"…Erm. I need my Pokémon healed."

The nurse George righted herself. "Oh. Why didn't you just say so?" She took the pokéball and placed it in the mysterious healing machine behind the counter, which, oddly, looked different from the strange device the nurse George back in Viridian City was using.

The nurse turned back to Aero. "You just come in from Viridian?"


"Heard that place has gone to shit lately. Groups of cannibalistic hobos, a breakout at the asylum, increased crime rates. Apparently even the nurse running the Pokémon Center was using shoddy black market equipment, and now the building is in ruin."

Well that explains a lot, Aero thought to himself.

The nurse turned back around to fetch Fucknugget's pokéball from the healing machine. "What a world…" she grumbled. She turned and handed the pokéball back to Aero.

"I'm supposed to tell you that I'm hoping to see you again, but that's like saying I hope your Pokémon get the shit kicked out of them again, so I won't. That would just be rude."

"Works for me." Aero took his Pokémon, and exited the building.

Aero released Fucknugget by Cinnamon's side. "Don't go fainting again. I need you to not suck for this gym battle."

Fucknugget gave his trainer a dirty look. "Bulba, bulb." It translates into something like: You're the one that keeps kicking me into things that have a type advantage against me.

Cinnamon laughed at him.

"Bulb." Oh, fuck you.

"Quit it you two," Aero said to his Pokémon, "let's get going." Aero and his Pokémon talked tactics while walking to the gym.

"The Pewter City gym leader uses rock-types, so Fucknugget is pretty much our only hope."

Then Aero thought for a moment. "Wait, Fucknugget, do you even know any grass-type moves yet?"

"…ba." …No

"My team is comprised of a flying-type, and a grass-type without any grass moves. Brilliant."

By this point, the trio was standing right outside the entrance to the gym. It was a fairly impressive looking building from the outside. Unfortunately, it was a fairly unimpressive looking building on the inside. I mean seriously, the floor is made out of dirt and random boulders. I don't care what type your gym specializes in, it's still dumb looking.

As Aero stared up at the sign affixed to the top of the entrance, he could only wish that Scarlett could have accompanied him to his first real gym match in Kanto. Partly because his current team was destined for failure, mostly because beating the rock-type gym leader with a fire-type would be funny.

Oh, okay, fine. Maybe it was partly because he missed her. He'd never tell her that though, she'd just make fun of him about it.

But he'd get to Celadon sooner or later; there was no reason to dwell on her now. It was probably for the best anyway, seeing as the next gym would be water-oriented.

"Oh well." Aero sighed, and entered the gym.

Seconds after, he was verbally assaulted with an over-excited exclamation of "Yo! Champ in the making!"

Off to the side of the interior of the gym was spectacled man in a suit, attempting to wave the newcomer to the gym over to him. The two other people in the gym, some kid dressed up like a boy scout and a man with no notable physical qualities other than that he could apparently see with his eyes closed, stood a sizable distance away and pretended that the suited man didn't exist.

"Yo, champ!" the man exclaimed again, beckoning forward with increasing fervor.

Aero ignored him.

"You, champ, over here!" He started hopping up and down.

Aero continued to ignore him.

"Yochampyochampyochampyochamp yochampyochampyochampyochamp yochampyochampyochampyochamp yochampyochampyochampyochamp yochampyochampyochampyochamp yochampyochampyochampyochamp yochampyochampyochampyochamp !"

"OH MY ARCEUS, What the fuck do you want?!"

Mr. Suit and Glasses brightened, and rushed over to Aero wearing his best door-to-door salesman grin.

"Yo, champ! before you go challenging the gym leader here, let me bestow my professional advice upon you!"

Aero looked at the man skeptically.

"The gym leader here specializes in rock-types," began the man.

"Yes, I know."

"Rock-type Pokémon are sturdy and defensive and strong. They have innate resistance against Pokémon like fire-types and flying-types."

"Yes, I know."

"However, rock-types are especially weak against water and gra-"

"Yes, I know."

The man scowled. "Well aren't you just a big know-it-all." he growled.

"No, your advice is just more useless than Fucknugget."

"Who's Fucknugget?"

"My Bulbasaur."

The man looked confused. "But a Bulbasaur would be exceptionally useful at a gym like this."

"He doesn't know any grass moves."

"…Oh. Yeahhh, that's a problem."


"Luckily for you, I have just the thing!" The man pulled out a briefcase from nowhere and started digging through the contents. "Hmm…I just saw it a second ago…where was it…" Eventually he found what he was looking for, and pulled out a greenish-colored disc.

"Here it is!" he said with his traveling salesman smile. "TM 09, Bullet Seed!"

Aero eyed the small disc cautiously. "What's it do?"

"This baby will teach your Bulbasaur a new grass-type move!"

"I know what the TM does, dumbfuck. I meant the move."

"Oh. It…uh…makes your Bulbasaur shoot…seeds."

"…That's it?"

"Well, yeah. Bullet Seed. It's in the name. But, uh, it shoots, like, a lot of them and stuff."

"I guess it's better than nothing," Aero took the TM, turned around, and crouched down to the height of Fucknugget. "Okay, Fucknugget. Turn around and spread 'em wide."

The Bulbasaur glared at his trainer. "Bulba." No fucking way.

"Just kidding, hold still for a second." Aero took the disc and placed it on the Bulbasaur's head. On contact, the TM lit up and hummed for a few moments before fading away into microscopic, unidentifiable-video-game-dark-matter particles.

Aero stood back up. "Well? Feel anything?"

Fucknugget stared up at his trainer for a few moments before spitting a seed at Aero's face.

"Ow!" Aero covered his hit eye.

"Bulba." It worked.


"Bulba bulb. Ba." Consider it revenge for all the kicking.

"You're still a dick." Aero turned back around to the man who had given him the TM. "I guess you aren't giving this to me for free."

"Defeat the gym leader here and give me the TM you receive from him, and I'll consider it a done deal."

"Fair enough," Aero turned towards the back of the gym where the two other trainers were waiting, and cracked his knuckles.

"Let's rock and roll."

"Speaar." That was sooo lame.

"Nobody asked you, bird."