The following story was not written by me. It was written by my friend and co-worker Lee. It was presented and read to me at a party in a Mexican restaurant that served huge margaritas. He also gave me a pikachu that was dressed to match the story. I thought I would share this great present with everyone. Lee is a talented fiction writer. This is his first fan fiction.
Legal Disclaimers
Pikachu is owned by Gamefreak and Nintendo and a bunch of other people who are next on Loki and Bartleby's list. Barney is owned by some woman in Texas and sponsored by PBS and views like you...consequently putting all of them on Loki and Bartleby's list as well. I don't know who owns Tom Selleck ands Madonna, but I am sure they are on Bartleby and Loki's list somewhere. Sherri Craig was created by Jerry and Judy Luepkes and owned in part by Jessie Craig. I doubt any of them are on the list yet. Bartleby and Loki are characters belonging to Kevin Smith, though I'm sure he borrowed them from the Bible or some Catholic writings. In any case, he made the list, so be nice to him.
Pikachu in Vegas
A fan fiction story written in honor of Sherri's birthday! Happy Birthday!
It was a sunny night in the City of Lights. Pikachu woke up and got dressed. His wife, Madonna, wished him well.
"Go make us some money, doll-face," Madonna said in between cigarette puffs. "And I'll get to work on my new album, 'Like a Virgin Whore.'"
Pikachu dressed in his, well, lack of clothes, grabbed his wallet and keys and headed out the door on his way to work.
After arriving at work, Pikachu sighed. "It's going to be another long night," he thought to himself. "Another damn long night." He walked into his dressing room and opened his locker. He thought of how the night would go: sweaty old men running their filthy paws over his ample breasts and ass, cat calls and unsolicited whistles following every step and gyration, secretly passed dollar bills with instructions to meet me in the alley. Pikachu, you see, was a drag queen, and the only Pokemon one at that.
He grabbed is clothes and donned them, pink fairy slippers, angel gown and wings, queen's crown, and magic rod (a dirty little inside joke his boss liked to expose-- "Pikachu, can I play with your magic rod?" his boss would say, exposing his tar-stained teeth. "Even better, would you play with mine?" he would snort, laughing and eyeing Pikachu while Pikachu would squirm uncomfortably in his chair).
The first rhythms of up-beat dance tunes descended upon Pikachu's ears. He knew it was soon time to "face the music." Finally the dinosaur doorman, Barney, called out to him, "Pikarena, honey, it's your turn, my cinderella." Pikachu remembered the time Barney tried to rape him in the Champagne Room. He looked at Barney and muttered under his breath, "You bastard, you purple bastard!"
Pikachu went out onto the stage. It wa the usual array of patrons: dirty old men. recreational directors, Tom Selleck, and insurance salesmen. Our little hero closed his eyes, muttered that there was no place like home, and put on his drag show.
He made plenty of money that night. But beyond that he made a vow. He vowed that he wanted to leave his dirty job and settle out in the countryside, like in some place with the words Pumpkin and Baptist and Center somewhere in the title. That's when he met his sugar momma, Sherri Craig, and decided to live with her. She said she would take care of him, and now out little hero is dormant in Sherri's care, where he will remain for ever and ever.
The End....for now!