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"Damn I'm so good, sort of."
You know what, I should really invest in a gun. A big one, with lots of bullets that blow up anything they touch. I realize that knowledge does me no good right now, but as soon as I get out of here, I'm buying one. As it was, it was just me, my stun gun, 3 flash grenades, and Captain Kapow the medicham. Yes, a pokemon. We're pinned down in an alcove, along a long hallway, being stalked by unhappy criminal types, and a few houndours as well. Porky and Copper were outside, waiting to cover our retreat. I could whistle up Johnny, but I can never tell if he'll help or not, the miserable little spook.
About that time, my mind was made up for me when a houndoor and a square jawed thug stepped into view. Without hesitation, and with the kind of precession that only comes with years of working together, though the Captain's being psychic helps some, we pounced on them. I leaped over the houndoor's head, rolling into the thug's legs, bowling him over into the wall. The Captain came flying behind me, with a kick that sent the morbid looking dog flying down the hall to land with a satisfying thump. Before it could thump, however, he'd already turned his attention back to our human foe, and let fly a punch that crackled with electricity. The big goon went down with a shout, his shirt singed through.
We ran for the exit, again, only to be met by 2 more houndoors, and a trio of goons of varying degrees of scary. I lobbed a flash grenade without thinking, and quickly turned on heel to avoid the blinding light. Good thing too, as the houndoors were none too happy with being blinded, and let loose wild bursts of flame, warming my retreating backside. We needed an exit, fast. That grenade would only keep them dazed for a moment more. Time to take a risk. "Johnny! I bet it'll piss someone off real bad if all the security systems got broken!"
It wasn't the best material to work with, but hey, I'm under a bit of pressure here. A moment later, I could here a crackling static over an intercom. Someone else may have thought it was a bad reception, or a busted microphone, but I knew better. Johnny found my proposal amusing enough to get involved. Next thing I know, doors started unlocking all along the hall, flashing lights went dim, and security cameras popped, spilling out smoke that reeked of fried plastic. I've got to hand it to the little jerk, when he wants to, he can really deliver.
I spotted a promising looking, large door around a corner, and made a dash for it, Captain Kapow reading my intention and following closely. With a hard shove, I found myself in a truck loading dock. Success! Now to open one of the loading bay doors and haul some serious ass.
It seemed like a simple idea, and that should have told me to do something else. Nope, I went ahead and started struggling with one of the metal garage doors, and then a different one opened from outside. Panic took me, and I struggled more, this time willing the Captain to help. Naturally, he lifted the door with a single effort, and just in time, as a large truck pulled in. We almost got away unnoticed, but some of the truck's loading crew spotted us, and reached for assorted guns. I made a dash for some nearby rocks, while my medicham companion passed me by with a series of graceful bounds. One of these days I'm going to take some gymnastics lessons and show up that damned, smug show-off. In the meantime, I just had to avoid getting shot full of holes.
I was almost to cover, when piercing, screaming fire tore through my left shoulder, spinning me like a top. I was only vaguely aware of the sound of gunfire, being a little distracted by having a hot poker covered with dull razor blades jammed into my shoulder. Almost immediately, the loud cracks of rifles were replaced by equally loud thudding sounds, as Copper dropped down in front of me. My loyal bronzor seemed to glow faintly as sparks flew from his metal body, bullets ricocheting wildly about the rocky, scrub filled valley we were in. Just as reinforcements arrived in the form of more thugs and houndours, the ground started shaking. Right on cue, a hefty boulder came rolling down hill, straight for the loading bay. Gunmen and houndour alike ran back into the relative safety indoors, as the boulder smashed into the truck.
The thousand tiny demons stabbing my arm with rusty syringes full of lemon juice kept me from noticing that Captain Kapow had picked me up, and dropped me onto something big, furry, and musty. With an enthusiastic grunt and squeal, Porky the pillowswine, my best friend, carried me up the hills and away from the dangerous criminals. Had I the presence of mind to think about it, I'd have realized that they would follow after me soon enough. At the time though, I only cared that I was safe with my companions, that my arm was probably going to rip itself off of my body and slither away to die, and that I had managed to swipe the stolen goods from the bad guys, ensuring I'd get paid
"Heeeeeeeere's Johnny!"
I used to be a farm boy. .My parents own a big chunk of cropland, where I grew up chasing mothims, climbing trees, peeking into the neighbor girl's bedroom, and listening to the kricketunes in the evening. It was a happy childhood, the kind my grandpa insisted on for his kids after the war. He'd grown up in Goldenrod City, and spent his life surrounded by rabid news coverage of the rising tensions with Orre. Of course, as soon as he was 16, he was caught up in the draft, and sent to fight. He used to regale my little sister and I with tales of heroism and terror in war. How his rhyhorn would carry him and his mates charging across the desert, firing at the enemy, being pecked by swooping fearows. When he retired, he refused to go back to Johto at all, and married a girl in Hoenn instead, and started a farm. My dad finally wooed my mother away from the call of adventure on the road, and made a farming mother of her. And that's when I came in.
I met Porky when I was 12, all hands and feet, and trying to find out what color the locals girls' panties were. He was just a swinub then, when I found him snuffling under a woman's dress. He became a handy excuse to be down there when she caught me, and proved to be a good excuse several more times. Naturally, it was too good to last, and my mother found out, and beat me senseless. I was ready to move onto other pursuits by then anyway, letting Porky's icy breath chill girls' nipples. Of course, I did have other interests, but honestly, can you think of anything more important to a young boy?
One of those interests was electronics. When not trying to kill my childish innocence, I'd spend hours with a soldering gun, trying to custom rig old radios, televisions, explosive detonators, that sort of thing. I'd buy the things from scrap dealers, swipe them from trash bins, and sometimes sneak off to Fortree to buy more parts. Not that they had much to pick from, but I made do. One night, after a grueling session of verbal abuse about how Jane's mom had called to complain that her daughter had to see the doctor for a near case of frost bite on her nipples, I retreated to my room to tinker with my latest find, a TV I had liberated from an abandoned house. It wouldn't work for anything, so you may say I was a bit shocked to find it glowing with static in the early morning hours.
As I fiddled with the knobs, I leaped back in shock, tripping over Porky and screaming like a little girl with frozen nipples when angry, rotting zombies appeared on screen, battering against the glass. My mother wasn't pleased when I tried to explain what had happened. Dad seemed mostly amused, but then he had kept an oddly straight face while mom was tearing into me about Jane.
It would be three more nights before anything happened. Sleeping, sleeping, sleeping, static. This time, I sat on the edge of my bed, Porky peeking out from under the blanket, wondering what would happen next. "Hello . . . . ?" I asked the creepy old TV.
A cheerful woman's voice answered. "I just can't get these stains out! Help me Mr. Bubbles!"
Accompanied by a view of a pleasant housewife crying into her washing machine, when a cartoon poliwrath leaped out of it and started pummeling the stains out of her sheets.
"Stupid thing's broken." Porky agreed with a snort.
"I've had enough of this madness! I'm getting off this merry-go-round!"
A frantic businessman standing on the ledge of a building, screaming at some well-meaning cop.
"Ummmmm, really broken?"
"Listen you miserable f***-offs! I'm gonna tear your ***s off with a ****in' crowbar! And then I'm gonna ****ing shove a **** up your fat ***es, and laugh while you all **** yourselves and die!"
A gruesome mobster screaming at his rivals.
"Keep it down! Mom'll hear!" I was more than a little scared at this point.
"Graaaaaaaaauuuuugghhhh" *Rip* *chew* *snap* "Aaaaaaaooooooohhhhh"
The zombies were back, and eating some poor sap, in thoroughly morbid NC-17 fashion.
I really didn't have anything to say this time, for fear something even more disturbing would appear. Porky was shivering in my lap, squealing softly, his eyes fixed on the clearly evil TV. And then it happened. An old man in a suit and a cheesy grin appeared, and announced, "Heeeeeeeeere's Johnny!" A blob of red goo with glowing eyes launched from the screen, crackling with sparks, and smacked right through my head. It hurt. A lot. Kind of like jamming a fork into a socket and not letting go. And then it got dark.
I woke the next morning to find Porky hiding under my pillow, nudging me constantly, my face almost frozen solid from his constant breathing on me. When I managed to thaw out and head for the bathroom, I saw myself in the mirror. My blond hair was standing out at every possible angle, and a few I'd never before considered feasible. It took awhile to tame it, with liberal use of my sister's assorted specialty brushes.
This would become a routine, almost. Every few nights, the TV would startle me from sleep, show increasingly disturbing images, and then the ghost would come screaming out to shock me, always preceded by the announcement, "Here's Johnny". Wasn't hard to figure out its name. Johnny would keep up this routine until I removed the TV a couple months later, simply bored with it by then. Johnny didn't care for this, and so started haunting other things around the house. The fridge, the toaster, my electric toothbrush (that one was pretty bad), and so on, until I finally gave in and brought the TV back to my bedroom. It would seem Johnny was here to stay.
"Go get a job!"
Sure, there's a lot more to tell about my youth, but we'll get back to that later. Let me, for the moment, go tripping merrily down memory lane to the end of my childhood. I was 16, and not doing too badly in school. I mean, I could handle science courses and math all day, but it was the stupid fuzzy stuff that got in my way. History, Literature, Sociology, and all that other useless junk. I mean, how would any of that help me blow stuff up? Yes, I had reached that golden age, when a young man's fancy turns to creating uncontrolled fireballs. Thankfully, Porky was always handy to help put those fires out. Kinda nice to have a massive, shaggy fire extinguisher.
I was one of the few kids to have a pokemon that could actually execute the sort of attacks that make them so formidable. Maybe I should set the record straight, for all of you people living in some weird world where dogs can't breathe fire, dragons aren't real, and a mime can't throw you through a wall with sheer force of will. Pokemon, most of them, are hard to tame. I mean really, they can summon lightning from the sky, shake the earth beneath your feet, and inflict you with poisons no man has ever before tasted. All that, and the claws, teeth, and big muscles to rip you limb from limb. They're not all giant, ferocious beasts, but even the timid ones can be dangerous if you're not careful. As such, not many people can control them. It's usually done by starting with the young, and either befriending it, or convincing it that you're in charge and it had better do as you say. And even then, most people who keep a pokemon aren't capable of teaching them to control their more potent gifts. It helps if you keep company with generally mellow pokemon, who aren't inclined to smash cars and eat people. Porky, a pillowswine, fits that description nicely. His biggest concern is where his next meal is coming from, and even when it's late coming, his most terrifying response is to spray you with frost and chips of ice. He's capable of more, but seldom has cause to do any more than that.
Other, often more "desirable" pokemon (gyarados, magmortar, and other such scary things) tend to fly into uncontrollable rages at the slightest provocation. If you don't come up with food they like, play a song that bothers them, give them a goofy look, well, you get the idea. It takes years of dedicated training to bend their will to do your bidding, or to at least learn how best to bribe them. Some folks can form life long relationships of trust with the big monsters, but it doesn't happen often. So, most people who keep pokemon keep the much more mild mannered ones. Most people are just keeping them as pets, or occasionally laborers. Now and then someone keeps them for protection, usually from other pokemon.
So, as I was saying, I was one of the few, the proud, the lucky kids with their own pokemon. A few others had one that was more than a pet. Lessee, Jim had an ekans that he'd taught to paralyze people with this weird hypnotic glare, Lynn got an adorable little minum (which, by the way seems to be part of an ekans' preferred diet), and Jamie was just rich enough to have an evee, but hadn't convinced her parents to drop the serious cash for the minerals that would bring about the transition to something really powerful. Were we some kind of elitist club, snubbing all of the unfortunates? No, not really. Jamie was really snobby, the bitch, Lynn was as social as a weezing, and Jim had the bad habit of sneaking his ekans into the girls' locker room, thus paralyzing them long enough to get a look. I'm rather jealous, and I'd do something about it if I weren't busy blowing things up.
And then there was Pigeon. She had a whole damn garden full. That seemed to be her calling, raising plant-like pokemon. She'd spend hours watering them, playing music for them, talking to them, and so on. Her family lived in a cottage near Fortree, and her parents encouraged her gardening. She would raise them from hatchlings, and eventually set them free into the woods, to thrive in the wild. She's a gentle soul, beautiful in all ways, and I was soooooo hot for her. Hell, I still am. She was followed almost constantly be an oddish and roselia, which was kinda tricky at school. But, she found ways to hide them, which made for interesting debate amongst the guys. I mean really, where was she hiding them? My vote always went to cleavage, as she has always been generously endowed, and I could so imagine being a happy little oddish, hiding in there. That may have explained my poor grades in classes we shared.
It was my clearly healthy, natural, and innocent interest in Pigeon that landed me a job in the first place. I needed cash to woo my sweet (well, she wasn't my sweet yet, but she would be, oh yes), for things such as chocolates, wine bought with a fake ID, a snazzy wardrobe, all that jazz. I had tried holding a part-time job in Fortree, working at a grocery store. Didn't work out too well. Not only was my boss a jerk, and completely biased against Porky's manly odor (he'd wait for me outside every day), but my attempts to "improve" the store's coolers ended rather badly (Johnny didn't wait outside the store). So, I tried other things, like being a high school gigolo. That, didn't work. It did however lead me to Jamie.
"I know you're desperate, but you don't honestly think you're worth that much, do you?" Jamie asked, in typical snobby fashion.
"Never mind, you wouldn't understand anyway." Yeah, taste the sting of my razor wit.
"No, but I might have other, ahem, uses for you." She continued, "I want a water stone for my darling Pearl, so he can grow into a vaporeon. I've not been able to negotiate with my parents, they're so unreasonable. So, I can use you to get one from the mine."
"Uh-huh. You want me to go to a mine and, what, steal one?" An amateur pyromaniac I may be, but theft of valuable minerals wasn't something I was eager to add to my resume.
"Pfft. I will get the stone. I just need you to get me there."
"Can't you just flirt some jock into it?" She was a rather sorry specimen compared to my lovely Pigeon, but not a total loss. She did have really long legs, and some killer lips. What? Like you've never thought it about someone?
"Out of the question. I need someone with a tame pokemon to guard me."
Oh, she was after Porky. "Tame? Have you ever tried getting Porky to do anything he didn't want to? He's like some great, immovable thing that doesn't move."
"Look, do you want the money? Or should I lend it to Phillip instead? He wants to take Pigeon out next Friday." she threatened, with an evil "I always get my way you idiot" gleam in her eyes.
"Bitch."
"What, what, what?"
I answered through my teeth "Yes. I would be happy to take you to the mine."
"Good, meet me by the fountain at my house tonight, before dark. I want to be home quickly" She left with a quick, satisfied step. And I wasn't completely unhappy. I was working for the meanest, snobbiest girl in school, and she was sure to make my evening miserable, but I'd get the money I needed to win Pigeon's affections. Besides, it was a chance for Porky and I to get out and see what we can really do against some competition.
"The Grass is Greener over here."
The mist glistened in the narrow shafts of light that filtered down through the canopy, making rainbows in the air. It sprayed up from the splashing of an old mill wheel in the stream, turning quickly today after the heavy rains from earlier in the week. A lone swellow could be heard calling proudly, reminding any lady birds that he was still available. The woods were always full of soothing sounds in the afternoon. The lazy creaking of the mill, the bubbling of the stream on rocks, birds calling, combees buzzing to and fro, and more often than not, singing. Pigeon's singing wasn't that of a trained performer, but that of a young lady who is pleased to hear music, even if she has to make it herself. The kind of light-hearted singing that makes plants grow taller, so that they might better hear the soft words.
Pigeon wasn't very tall, average at best, but she made up for it with the spoils of a generous puberty. Her round, child-like face was often smudged with dirt, and freckled from so much time in the sun. She usually wore either a long sun dress, covered in bright flowers, or shorts and a tank-top which were more convenient for gardening. Her hair was a thick, dark chestnut mane, that curled lightly hanging over her shoulders. Add all of this to her bouncy personality, her almost maternal love of growing things, and a complete lack of shyness where her body was concerned, and you have a combination that any healthy male finds nearly impossible to ignore.
Pigeon firmly believed her little rows of flowers and vegetable grew better with singing, and no one could really argue with the results. Besides, the assorted plant pokemon enjoyed it. You could see them there, most days, traipsing through her garden, unworried by anything she might do, because they all knew that she wanted them to grow. Many would take root, and stay a while, and receive the full benefit of her attention. She currently was chastising a sunflora that had bullied the others out of the best soil.
"Now, see here! I can't have you shoving the others out, just because you're so much bigger." she scolded in her rolling, bubbly voice. "Would you please, just sit still, and let the bellsprouts plant themselves?" There wasn't any harm in asking nicely, was there?
Clearly the sunflora thought itself better than the smaller plants, pulling one of its root-like feet from the ground and letting loose a sharp kick at one of the bellsprouts trying to nudge back into the contested soil.
"Stop that! Don't make me make you listen!" Pigeon threatened, stomping her foot, causing delightful ripples to flow up her body. It was so hard to make yourself intimidating when sudden movements made you jiggle hypnotically. Thankfully, she had found other ways to get her point across. "Candle-Mane!" she called, with a loud whistle for good measure. A moment later, a young ponyta came bounding into the clearing. It was an awkward thing, all legs and a touch clumsy, but its fiery red mane was enough to give the offending flower pokemon pause.
"Now, if you can't behave yourself, then Candle-Mane is going to burn your little leaves off!" she shouted at the now shocked sunflora. "So shape up!"
Having made her threat clear, she turned her attention away from the quivering plant, confident that she wouldn't have to repeat herself. It usually worked that way, as she never made a hollow threat. A raucous carvinine had once tried to take over the garden, knocking over fences, swatting at passing combees and beautiflies, and generally making an ass of itself. After a stern talking-to, and a vicious assault with a pair of pruning shears, the carvinine's manners improved substantially. Now that she had Candle-Mane to back her up, she didn't have to go that far.
A rustle in the trees sent the calling swellow flying into the woods. Pigeon glanced up, and saw a shadow jerk back behind a tree. In days past she might have been frightened, but that was before she got used to her classmates reactions to her "improvements". She had grown used to some boy or another sneaking long looks at her on her hands and knees, working in the dirt. Less often were the girls hoping to catch her doing something socially suicidal, so that they could rush the news back to their fellow un-enhanced friends.
"And who do we have today?" she murmured to the scrawny ponyta. Candle-Mane, perhaps not understanding the suggestion under the question, stared blankly with his head cocked.
Sigh. Why did boys never hear the obvious things a girl didn't say? "Go find out." she clarified with a gentle smack on his warm flank. Now understanding her desire, the ponyta set to pleasing his mistress, trotting with his head held high and tail flickering wildly. As he stepped past the tree line, he suddenly reared, and let loose a frightened whinny, before falling back to his hooves and stood silently waving back and forth.
Well, that was new.
Pigeon, shocked to see her faithful pet paralyzed, rushed into the trees to help, only to find herself looking directly into a pair of glowing, hypnotic eyes. She couldn't see what the eyes belonged too, nor could she look away, or move at all. Then the eyes were gone, but she still couldn't move.
A soft thump sounded somewhere to the right, and suddenly an ekans slithered across her field of view toward the noise. Jim. She wasn't surprised the little vermin was snooping. He often did, even at school. This, however, was a new low. Using his ekans on her was far bolder than he had ever dared before.
"Vinny! What did you do?!" he chastised in a horrible attempt at shock. "I'm sorry, he gets so out of hand sometimes. It should wear off in a minute . . ." he broke off suddenly, as though too distracted to finish speaking.
"Oh, great. He's thinking." Pigeon thought to herself, truly wishing Candle-Mane could burn him to ashes.
"Here, let me get you away from the woods. You never know what's wandering around in there." Jim said, still not stepping into view, but reaching around from behind and grabbing her.
"Well, that's not nearly as imaginative as I expected." Pigeon mused to herself. Imaginative, no, but this was the farthest any boy had dared to go, and ohhhhhhh was he going to pay for it. As he clumsily tried to pull Pigeon along while trying not to seem too obvious about his groping, Jimmy failed to notice the wiggling bundle between his jiggling handfuls. Without warning, he caught a spray of thick, dusty pollen in the face, and fell flat with Pigeon on top of him.
"Well, that didn't work out quite as it should have" Pigeon thought, still unable to move.
"My Career in Criminal Type Stuff"
Porky watched me load my pack with all of the things I thought I might possibly need. He understands what others clearly don't. No problem, no matter how big or complicated, can be solved with brute force.
"Do ya think three detonators will be enough? I mean, what if I have to blow lots of things up? There could be gates, walls, guard shacks, golems . ." Porky interrupted by way of a deafening squeal. "Yes, I know that's your job. But still, we should be prepared for the possibility that you'll be busy." I answered as I stuffed a few spare detonators in my bag. "I've only got enough powder to make 4 big bombs, but a few smaller ones may be smarter . ." Porky snorted loudly, flecks of snow bursting from his snout. "I guess you're right. Anything worth blowing up is worth blowing up a lot."
Many of our conversations run this way. Porky learned a long time ago how to judge the proper use of black powder, and keeps me from doing foolish things that would waste it. I realize that I may seem overly eager to destroy private property, but I assure you, I'll grow out of it sometime. Maybe.
My clock started buzzing, alerting me that I needed to leave now if I was going to meet Jamie in time. I jammed the last few things into my pack, and trotted down the stairs, Porky stomping along at my heels. "Bye Mom! I'll be back late! Studying at the library!" I called before the door could slam behind me.
"Studying for what?" Thump. Not paying attention I walked headlong into my mother, standing outside the door.
"History." I spit out just as I had rehearsed. "Test on Tuesday (false), I need a good grade to keep passing (true)."
"When will you be back?"
"Late. Like I said. Lots of reading." I had even picked out books in case she quizzed me later.
She looked me up and down, looking for any sign of dishonesty. Yeah, she does this every time, cause she's not stupid, but this wasn't my first time out doing things she wouldn't approve of. "I want an A on that test. Porky, make sure he doesn't start any fires." she said, ruffling his fur on her way to the door.
Why do moms have to be so damn knowing of what you do on your own time? It isn't like they get paid for it, do they? Oh well, onward!
I made good time, and found myself outside Jamie's mansion. OK, maybe it isn't QUITE a mansion, but it's a lot closer than anything else you'll find around Fortree. Her parents owned a big chunk of some research company, and had enough money to choke a wailmer. It showed in their house and garden. Lots of professionally groomed trees and shrubs, a stone wall wrapping around, and a fountain with a statue of a mermaid riding a milotic. Like I said, big bucks.
Jamie was waiting impatiently, tapping her foot and glaring at me. "It took you long enough. Get moving, I want this done fast, before anyone sees me with you."
"Well, good to see you too." Oh, snap. That's right, sarcasm. I bet it hurt.
She clearly shouldered that crushing blow well, as she shoved past, clearly expecting me to follow obediently. I shrugged at Porky, "Well, at least it's a paying job." He snorted, not quite as forgiving.
We followed a back road most of the way, with little to speak of. How much protection does a girl need if she's going to follow a road? I was half expecting to hack through the woods, leap across chasms, and fight off wild beasts at every turn. This was so, disappointing.
"Are you even listening!?"
"Huh? Whu?" I guess I was a little distracted by the lack of excitement..
"I said, I know the man at the back gate. He'll let us in, but we can't be seen by the guards." Jamie said, angry that I hadn't been riveted by her voice.
"What are they packing?"
"How should I know? That's your job." she whined. "Just make sure I don't get caught, and you'll get paid. Ohhh, is Jillian going to be jealous. No one around here has an evolved eevee." She smugly prattled on for a bit, planning how best to brag and show off. As such, she didn't notice when Porky stopped dead and squealed loudly.
With no more warning than that, a dark shape came bounding from the trees, straight for Jamie. It took a moment to register what it was, a pinsir, and then send Porky on the attack. The beetle wasn't exactly lightning fast, but it caught us by surprise, and covered the distance quickly, mandibles first, ready to crush Jamie.
"Porky! Ice shard now!" With practiced speed, my pillowswine exhaled a gust of frosty wind filled with jagged pieces of ice. The pinsir was nearly on her when it was caught in the attack, and spun wildly off path. Jamie scrambled, screaming, behind me while Porky crouched at my side. "Flatten that bug!" I yelled, and Porky didn't hesitate for a moment. Bounding with the force of a bulldozer, he caught the pinsir in the legs with his tusks, and threw it to the side. The pinsir went sprawling, but didn't wait around while Porky wheeled about for another charge. It sprang up and braced itself, just in time to meet the charging boar pokemon. Like a wrestler, it wrapped its chitinous arms around Porky's head and pushed hard, its feet digging deep in to the dirt. Porky shoved with all his weight, but he pinsir had him beat on a stand-still shoving match, and quickly played that advantage, using Porky's momentum against him. With a shriek, the beetle hoisted Porky up over head and slammed him into the ground with a tremble.
Well, that sucked. I hadn't planned on this tough a fight before we even got to the mine. The Pinsir spun about, and brought his giant mandible down around Porky's neck, planning to finish him. That, was a bad, bad idea. Clearly it had never grappled with a pillowswine, and had no idea just how thick a neck Porky had. As such, it took way too long to get those giant mandibles around, and Porky wasn't going to wait for that to happen.
He dug his hooves into the dirt, and started bucking like a tauros at the rodeo, while the pinsir clung on desperately. With a grunt, Porky threw the bug off, and spun to face it.
"Blind it!" I shouted, and Porky dug his tusks into the ground, and threw loose clods of dirt at the pinsir's face. The bug started scraping at its eyes, staggering about blindly. I wanted this done now.
"Finish him, Pork!" Without a moment's hesitation Porky opened wide and bit the pinsir savagely around the arm. I could barely hear the crackling of ice under the pinsir's screams, but saw the results I wanted when it pulled away, with a frosty stump where its arm had been. Porky didn't let it go just yet, but gave it a vicious swing of his tusks, and then chased tight on its heels as the pinsir ran screaming for the woods. Once it cleared the tree line, Porky stamped to a stop, and let loose a victory squeal, daring any bug to try their luck.
"What was that?!" a girl screamed in my ear. Oh, yeah, Jamie.
"Pinsir. Kind of like a sumo wrestler that can snap your head off."
"What did it want?" She was shaking pretty badly.
"Well, it probably wanted to eat you." Duh. Even big scary bugs have to eat something, right?
"Then why are we waiting here?! Hurry up! I want that stone now!"
"Fine, fine, let's go Porky." We started trotting along, Porky huffing rather loudly, very pleased with himself.
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Yep, that's all for now. My first post, so let me know how I did. If you loved it more than your favorite grandma, then please, do tell. If you hated it with a passion more fiery than a thousand screaming demons dipped in kerosene, lie to me. Do please let me know what you think.