Success is a two way street

"Hey mum, guess what?" The slightly pre-pubescent voice screamed, waking up his mother.

"Go back to sleep, it's 6am."

"No, I get my very first Pokemon and I am lining up now so that I get the best one." Ash answered, "I'm gonna be the best Pokemon trainer in the whole world, mum."

"You're not leaving home until you get a job," His mum discouraged him, but he ignored her. He attempted to run down the stairs, but fell. Distorted in a sat position, Ash yelped in pain as fear overwhelmed him. He broke his leg, and his head was bleeding at the top.

His mum slowly got up from bed, and creaked as she casually came to find out what had happened. Ash would have been her fourth abortion, but the dirty bitch couldn't afford it, so she had the child. She often wishes she had had the money, and times like these were when they were more obvious. She struggled not to gasp as she saw the maimed boy at the bottom of her staircase, and she ran to the phone and called for an ambulance.

Twenty minutes. Ding ding, the doorbell went, and Ash's mum (whom his friends referred to as a MILF) walked over the bruised, bleeding body and opened the door, letting in the rising sun's light. The two men rushed in to block it simultaneously and took the young boy into their ambulance and drove him to the hospital.

After a few days, the boy was alright. He expected his mum to be there, but since she hated him, she wasn't. He was forced to get a train back to Pallet town with money that he got from the doctor's through sympathy.

Getting off the train, he walked back home (bare in mind that he's in crutches with a broken leg at this point) and sat outside waiting, as his mum was busy at "work" (or, the brothel). He dropped his crutches and sat, twiddling his thumbs, prepared to wait a few hours under the overhead firestorm of sunlight. Professor Oak was walking past the boy, wearing shorts, absorbing the hot and lovely weather, and addressed him, "Ash!"

"Oh, hey Prof." Ash answered, a little depressed in tone.

"I heard about the fall. Nasty." The Professor consoled.

"Yeah, it was pretty painful," Ash agreed, trying to get off topic, "Oak, do you have any Pokemon left?"

"No-" Oak cut himself short, thought about it for a moment with his eyes spinning a full three sixty, and then changed his mind, "Yes. We've got one left. Do you want to come and get it with me?"

Ash's day changed. It's very depressing to wake up in a hospital bed, hoping to have a sympathetic mother who had been waiting at your side since you first arrived there and had bought you the newest Call of Duty game and would drive you back home and you could play it over the whole weekend and she'd buy you your favourite meal for dinner that night and you'd go to bed feeling loved and wake up like normal, but instead to beg for money off of doctor's. Oak had reignited the spark of happiness that Ash had had on that day of the accident, and every bit of his past depression was gone.

Oak helped Ash up, got him into his crutches and walked over to the lab with him. It was only a short walk, and they chatted very much. Once inside the lab, Oak signalled Ash into a back room saying "I shouldn't be giving you this Pokemon, really," which excited Ash.

Once inside, Ash was a little disappointed. It was just an office. Oak locked the door, saying "I could lose my job if they found out."

The grown man unfastened his belt. Ash looked at Oak in confusion, what a strange place to keep your Pokemon, he thought. Oak put his thumbs on the insides of his trousers and pulled them down. You're a sick fuck if you thought he was going to rape him. NO! He kept the key on his underwear lining. With this key, he moved over to the desk in the centre-back of the room (after pulling his trousers back up) and unlocked a draw, taking a small sphere out and walking over to Ash. "Would you like to see my Pokemon?"

"Yes! I really would!" Ash pleaded with the utmost enthusiasm.

Oak pushed the button in the middle of the red and white ball. It opened in half. "You see, Ash, there's something I must tell all boys of your age," he began, Ash's jaw dropping at the site of the empty ball, "Pokemon aren't real," he went on, "they were created to make you buy merchandise and make men in suits rich."

Ash didn't answer, he just walked over to the door, unbolted the lock, and walked out of the lab. On the short walk home, a tear came to his eye. Is the whole world against me? Why God, why?

He got home and his mum was inside. He stepped in and she was ecstatic. "Mum?..." he asked.

"Ash! We're rich!" She shouted, leaping about in the living room, waving a (winning) lottery ticket around like a flail. Ash wanted to jump around with her, but unfortunately, he couldn't, so he just stood smiling and she hugged him and kissed his forehead. She's rich and now she loves me, he thought, great.

Almost instantly, she went to collect a form to send off as she began looking at things she wanted to buy, and she told Ash that she'd buy him anything he wants, but he didn't want anything that money could get him. He wanted her love, her affection. Something he's never felt in his whole life. And that's why when he went to a classy boarding school his mum forced him to go to, he asked his teacher about shares and they agreed to teach him about them in sessions after schooling and how to make money.

In later life, Ash, the boy destined to become a master of fighting and training animals that apparently don't exist, became a hedge fund manager and hit the jackpot many times. However, in spite of how rich he was, how many yachts he could afford nor the sheer amount of women that wanted to fuck him, he never felt loved. And he went on to die in his empty wealth, as Death held out his hand, Ash accepted, in full knowing that where ever he went, Heaven, Hell or no where, it couldn't be as bad as not having the love of you remain non existent for your whole life. Success is a two way street.

Fin.