Just as Ora's lungs were about to collapse, he exhaled, the butter-yellow smoke curling at his nostrils and a violent coughing fit following right after. It was a little sad, he thought, the fact that he was huffing koweez for the first time by himself, but when he took another hit, the feeling evaporated.
"Whoa," he whispered to nobody. His parents were away, leaving him completely and utterly alone in his house in Ecruteak City. The day Mom and Dad left for Kanto on a business trip, he met a guy who called himself Manny near the Burned Tower.
"Hey, kid," he'd said.
"I'm nineteen!" Ora retorted, to which the guy shushed him. Harshly.
"Listen, do you want Officer Jenny on our asses?" he growled before producing what resembled a tiny bottle of air freshener. "Here it is. You got the money?"
"Y-yeah," the younger of the two responded, and he pulled out the thin roll of Pokémon Dollars from his back pocket.
After the shady exchange, Manny said, with an ever so sadistic grin, "Be careful."
Ora had immediately scurried home despite the fact that he lived a short walking distance away from the ruined monument and slipped the container underneath his bed. He had then tried to convince a few friends to try it with him, but all of them shot the idea down, even the one who was into smoking oddsprout all day.
"Listen man, I've heard some crazy shit about koweez," he had warned in a voice that made him sound higher than a kite. "Sometimes they don't distill it properly."
"Pussy," Ora had snapped in reply before hanging up.
That was all behind him, though. As he sat there, sinking into the couch before the television, he began to feel tingly. They're missing out, he thought, a smug smirk forming on his face. So far, so good.
A warm, sleepy sensation hovered over him, and he couldn't help but let his eyes slide closed. He inhaled deeply, and it was as if he were flying. All was well. He was considering trying it again soon.
That was until a strange sound met his ears, just for a second.
Ora jumped two feet into the air, his eyes jolting open, and he tossed his head to and fro. He didn't see anything out of the ordinary, not even in the corners of the room, but it still took his heart a couple of minutes to calm down. I must be hallucinating a little, he thought. Yeah, that must be it. Slowly, he leaned back into the cushion and attempted to return to his trip.
Just as the floating feeling returned, he heard a different noise, a faint, muffled one. From what he could tell, it sounded like someone gradually catching his breath. He felt the panic coming on again, but he mentally reassured himself: No, Ora, that's just you breathing. When he looked down, however, he noticed that his chest was rising and falling rapidly, not slowly or heavily.
He gulped. The noise grew louder.
Okay, Ora, don't freak. It's just the trip. Everything will be okay once it wears off–!
A ruthless stench met his nose, and he winced before holding it shut with his thumb and index finger. What the fuck? Now I'm hallucinating smells? He started to breathe through his mouth, but whatever it was that was stinking up the house also had a taste, one of death and rotten eggs. His gag reflex reacted, and he almost threw up, but when he noticed that the slow, breathy panting was even louder than it had been before, the vomit froze in the middle of his esophagus.
Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit. Ora swallowed his puke back—What else could he have done?—and gradually stood from his seat. His knees were buckling, but he couldn't tell whether it was from the trip or his terror. I gotta get out of here. I can't take this anymore!
Suddenly, a blast of sickeningly yellow gas enveloped him, and the harsh, hoarse breathing was raking his ears. He squeezed his eyes shut, praying that opening them again would somehow end the high and that everything would be okay after that.
That wasn't how it turned out. That wasn't how it turned out at all.
Right in front of him, almost touching his nose, was a purple, floating, frowning blob. Its black eyes stared into his as if they were searching for his soul, and by the sadistic twinkle he saw, they were ready to rip it a new one. Directly below the misshapen face was a white skull and crossbones. When his eyes darted slightly to the right, he saw another smaller blob with the same grimace attached to the larger one's forehead. His entire body trembled, and when he opened his mouth to scream, the creature's huge oral cavity seemed to grow as it parted, revealing a strong, fanged underbite.
"WEEZING!" it cried throatily, the shout ringing in Ora's ears. He made to cover them, releasing his nose in the process, and accidentally took a whiff of the yellowing air. He immediately buckled over in response, holding his chest and hacking his lungs out. His tongue flew out of his mouth, and the terrible taste stabbed it until, finally, he hurled all over the carpeted floor.
Once his stomach was emptied (and then some), he gradually made to look back up at the creature, his entire body quaking. That was when he eyes widened, and tears rushed down his cheeks.
The Weezing was glowing, dimly at first, then brightly, then so harshly that Ora's corneas burned even more. He lifted his arm to his face, turned away, and silently apologized to his parents.
"WEEZING!"
And the house exploded.