Disclaimer: I do not own Pokémon or their characters.

Hoenn PokéDex Entry: Banette

This Pokémon was originally a pitiful plush doll that was thrown away.

"Mommy!" Your daughter, Fay, screeches. You look around, but you can't see her anywhere. You hurriedly push past shelves full of old books and decorations trying to find her as she continues to scream and yell.

"AHHH! Mommy!"

You shove your way past a taxidermied moose head leaning against the wall and you see her. Your daughter is sitting on the floor of the thrift shop holding the ugliest doll you have ever seen in your entire life.

"Mommy, look!" she exclaims as she holds it up to you, "Isn't she the ugliest? I love her! Can I have her, Mommy?"

You pick up your daughter and take the doll in your hand. It really is the most hideous little thing. It's a dirty grey color with what looks to be an elf-like stocking cap on its head. It's got red eyes and its mouth is zippered shut. There is a hole in the back where you can put your hand inside to use it like a puppet. Its smile is chilling. You shiver and hand the doll back to your daughter.

"Fay, honey, are you sure this is what you want? There are plenty of other dolls and toys in the store. You're sure you want this old thing?"

Fay quickly snatches the doll out of your hand.

"Yes, Mommy! This is the one I want!"

"Okay dear, but if you change your mind I'm not bringing it back."

You set Fay down and head to the cashier. You've picked up a vintage cookbook for yourself and some old vinyls for your husband. You place them on the counter and Fay scoots her doll up next to your items. The cashier removes the price tags from the vinyls and your book.

"I can't find a price tag on this doll, do you remember how much it was?" the cashier asks.

"I'm not sure," you say, "My daughter found it, not me. I'm not sure where she got it from."

The cashier frowns, "Huh. Well, I don't even recognize it. It's pretty ratty. Why don't you just take it? My boss won't mind."

"Gee thanks." You're more than thrilled to be taking this eyesore home with you. Hank will be absolutely ecstatic to see this thing. Fay grabs her doll and hugs it tightly as the cashier bags up your other items.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Fay squeals with delight.

The cashier bids you and your daughter farewell as you head toward the front door of the thrift shop.

"You really think you're doing me a favor, don't you?" you mutter.

"What, Mommy?" Fay peeks up at you as you open up the back door of your car to let her in.

"Oh, nothing, sweetie." You buckle her into her car seat and then get into your car and drive home.

That evening, after dinner, your husband is irritated with you.

"But why would you buy her that nasty old thing?" he says with disgust.

"Hank, SHE picked it out. She found it at the thrift shop and I had promised her I'd buy her a toy today since she's been so good lately, and then the cashier offered it to us for free. I couldn't say 'no' then. Anyway, it's vintage. Vintage is cool with the kids these days."

"Vintage? Vintage is cool with college students, Dianne. And anyway, that thing is not vintage. It's junk. Our daughter doesn't need to be playing with garbage. We need to get rid of it."

You shoot your husband a glare, "And HOW exactly do you expect to get rid of this doll that she's fallen so in love with? She hasn't put it down since we got home. Just let her play with her doll, Hank. It's so old it'll fall apart in a few days anyway."

"I am NOT letting MY daughter play with such trash! Everyone is going to think we don't care about our daughter's image. It's creepy and dirty and...and just plain ugly! And honestly, Dianne, it was pretty irresponsible of you to buy her such a stupid toy!"

"FINE, Hank," you groan in frustration, "I'll let you take care of it since you know best. YOU can be the one to explain to your daughter why she can't have her new toy anymore. I'm not a fan of the ugly thing either, but she likes it and that's what matters. And image? Really? A five-year-old doesn't care about her image, Hank."

"Oh SURE, I always have to be the bad guy! You're the one who bought it, Dianne. YOU can get rid of stupid thing!" Your husband moves menacingly toward you, but you back away.

You continue to walk away from Hank, keeping your eyes on him as you move, "Okay, Hank. I'll take care of everything, AGAIN… Just stay where you are. Why don't you go look in the bag on the counter? I picked up something for you today too…" You hurry off making your way to the stairs that lead to your daughter's room. Another sassy remark and this night could've gotten much more heated than it already was.

As you make your way upstairs, you hear your husband complain about the records you pick up for him, something about "not liking The Eagles." You roll your eyes and enter Fay's room. She's already sound asleep, clutching her new doll as her chest quietly expands and contracts. She snores a bit, making a little snort. You smile. No matter how badly Hank treats you, this little girl can always make you feel better. You gently grab the doll and slip it out of Fay's loving death-grip. She shifts a bit and you freeze, but she eventually stops. You take the doll back downstairs where you find Hank's new vinyls in the garbage. Teeth clenched, holding back moans of frustration, you toss the doll into the trash can.

You head down the dark hallway to your bedroom. Hank is in the shower. You slip into your pajamas and head to bed. Trying your hardest to fall asleep before Hank is done showering, you tightly shut your eyes and pray for sleep to take you, but all you can think about is your husband. Why does he never appreciate the things I do for him and Fay? Memories of Hank's booming voice hurling demeaning insults and threats at you cause tears to trickle down your cheeks. Am I really as stupid and worthless as he says? The shower stops. You try to stop crying so Hank won't notice you're awake. As the bathroom light shuts off and the door opens, you drift off… The last thing you remember is the slight movement of Hank getting into bed, and then blackness.

"…..mommy?..."

"...mommy….hey…."

Ughh. What time is it?

"...moooooommmmyyyy…."

Fay?

You roll over and slowly open your eyes. As they adjust, you see something… Fay's doll is peering over the edge of the bed at you. You gasp and push yourself backward, away from the edge of the bed. Your back bumps into Hank and he stirs, but doesn't wake up.

"...mommy!..."

Fay.

She's holding the ugly, disgusting, old doll. You move back over toward your daughter and place your hand on her arm.

"Honey, what's wrong?" You whisper. She's holding the doll out to you. Her hand is in its back, like a puppet.

"My dolly had a bad dream, Mommy," she looks at you, unblinking in the darkness and holds the doll out to you. It stinks, overwhelmingly so. You push the doll aside and look at your daughter.

"Oh, sweetie, it's okay. Everyone has bad dreams sometimes. Would you like to lay with me and Daddy?" Fay lifts the doll back up and shakes the its head 'yes' in response to your question. You sit up and lift your daughter onto the bed and set her between yourself and your husband. You nudge Hank to let him know what's going on.

"Hank...Hank?"

You nudge him more forcefully.

"Hank."

He starts to move, but it's not what you expect. His arms rush up to his face. He seems panicked. Confused, your heart races; you've never been this worried. You're afraid he's going to hurt Fay.

"Hank? What's wrong? Be careful! Fay is here!" You put your hand on Hank's shoulder, but he doesn't stop. He starts kicking his legs, hands still at his face.

"Hank! Stop! What the hell is wrong with you?" You try to move Fay out of his way, but before you can, she places her hand on his shoulder. He suddenly stops moving.

"Daddy. It's okay, Daddy. You can play with me and my dolly now! You look just alike! See?" Hank slowly rolls over. You see terror in his eyes. His hands are still at his face. He reaches out to push Fay away with one hand and you notice something different. Fay somehow resists his shove and stays put. At first you can't really tell what's wrong with him, but then you hear his muffled screams.

What's going on? Why isn't Hank saying anything?...

His hands flash back up to his face as he claws at his mouth. You reach out and motion for him to move his hands away from his mouth. He slides his hands down and you finally realize what's going on. You peer at him through the darkness and can barely see a hint of moonlight glint off his lips… There's a zipper keeping his mouth closed! You shriek in horror and back away from him. You leap out of bed and rush toward the door, fumbling with the doorknob, you hear Hank's quiet screams echoing through the room as he continues to tear at his mouth/

"Daddyyyy, what's wrong?" Fay stands up on the bed, still holding her doll. At first she looks upset, but then she starts jumping up and down, laughing, "Daddy looks like my doll-y! Daddy looks like my doll-y!" By this point Hank is so entangled in the sheets that he can't seem to get up. Fay straddles your husband's chest and sits down on him. He's instantly still, as if paralyzed by her touch.

"Daddy, you're no fun. You don't get to play with me and dolly anymore! You've been too mean to Mommy." Fay, doll still on her hand, slowly moves the doll toward your husband's face. You can see the terror in his eyes from across the room. You can't move; you can't look away. Your legs give and you slide down to the floor with your back against the wall, trying not to watch this horrific scene between your husband and daughter.

As the doll gets closer to Hank's face, something changes. The doll's eyes gradually light up as the distance between its face and Hank's diminishes. The arms start swinging back and forth lazily and Fay begins to laugh again. It's not her typical, cute, girlish laugh. It's eerie. It sounds….otherworldly, terrifyingly so. High-pitched, boyish.

"Daddy's been very bad." Fay's mouth moves, but the voice is not hers. The doll takes a swipe at Hank's face. You see a splotch appear on his nose. Blood. The doll swings its arms faster and faster, all the while getting closer and closer to Hank's face. His screams, still faint, gain intensity. More blood appears on his face as the doll makes contact again, claws have come out of its arms. Its motions are more deliberate now as it slashes its arms back and forth. Fay is giggling with glee amidst the gruesome scene. By this time, blood is flying everywhere. Fay, Hank, and the doll are soaked in crimson spots. You can't bear to look anymore. You begin to whimper as tears roll down your cheeks.

Hank's screams decrescendo into eventual silence. You turn back to look at him and see his motionless body lying on the bed. Moonlight peeks through the blinds onto his rosy-colored body which glows like a traffic light. You don't see Fay or the doll anywhere so you stand up and stagger over to the bed. You avert your eyes, keeping an eye out around the room for your daughter or her hideous doll. Finally your gaze returns to Hank's motionless body. His face is all but gone. His eyes lay bleeding on the bed. No skin is left, but a zipper remains where his mouth once was, still sealed shut. You fall onto him, sobbing uncontrollably. You hear a rustling movement behind you at the foot of the bed.

"Mommy?"

No.

"Mommy, don't you want to play?"

No. No!

"DIANNE."

The voice is gruff. Raspy. Demanding. It chills your bones. You sit up and see Fay, blood dripping from her hair into her eyes. Her entire front is stained red. You catch her flash a scarlet smile, visible in a sliver of moonlight peeking through the blinds.

"Wow, Dianne, we look exactly the same now!" The grating voice slithers out of Fay's mouth, as if she were the puppet. Your eyes widen. You slowly reach up to feel your face. Something is dangling from your lips: a zipper. You fumble to pull it open, but you can't.

"Don't try to open it, Dianne. Your screams might wake up little Fay! We don't want that, do we?"

You try to scream but nothing comes out. Only the subdued sounds of terror as your daughter leaps toward you, pulled by the doll on her hand. Fay and her doll slam into you and you fall back onto the bed. Blood is thrown into the air and cascades back onto you as you land next to your mangled husband.

The doll unzips its own mouth and expels a puff of foul smelling breath, right into your face as it growls, "Say goodnight, Dianne." It slowly zips its mouth back up as you try to cough. The doll speaks through your daughter as she straddles you and begins to lean in closer. Fay's eyes light up for a moment as the doll allows her to speak one last time.

"Goodnight, Mommy!"