A/N: Bit of original series, drabble fun. For the Diversity Writing Challenge
A55. Drabble between 301-500 words
Please enjoy and let me know what you think!
Sometimes, Pikachu really wished he wasn't claustrophobic.
He would probably not have been half dead and stuck with an idiot if he wasn't. Laying on a stretcher with electricity being pumped back into him was rather, he thought, like being stuck to a frozen exercise wheel with an apple just out of reach. Boring, annoying, and sleep inducing. All in all, not a good time.
But on the upside, not dead. He liked not being dead. But he was squished. God damn pessimism.
And he was only alive because of that kid. What was his name...?
Ah well, he'd remember eventually. Something to do with fire.
What in the world was that kid even doing anyway? They had already ticked off the Spearow. What was shouting at them going to do? Look cool?
… He had answered his own question, hadn't he?
Ho-oh save him. He was stuck with this kid, wasn't he?
Well, no, he could just leave. Chuck the Pokeball at him like the last time and go. But... okay, he had to admit it, blasting the life out of a giant flock of Spearow was probably the most fun he'd had since getting that Beedrill stuck in a tree by its needles in the Forest. But the point stood; he was gonna have to do more of that nonsense. To keep a kid alive who probably should have been pecked to death.
Then again... the guy had been doing it to save his butt and everything.
The Pikachu rolled over inside the pile of his fellow large, mutated mice, and shifted.
"Pikachu," he heard the kid shout. He could just wait this out, couldn't he? Not stay out, pretend to have been knocked back unconscious.
Eh, screw it. This could be fun. He could always shock the guy if it wasn't.
Ash, that was his name.
Ash.