Author's Note:
Wait? Another story full of Pallet town mischief and drama? Why yes it is!
I apologize about having to repost chapter one. There were a few adjustments that needed to be made in my writing, so I went back and fixed them. :) Also, while I appreciate feedback this is a project I am solely working on. Since this is a gift, I will not be taking any outside sources/ideas.
While working on Sunlight's Return, I am also dedicating my free time to writing a short story (around four to five chapters) for my beta reader. This, like Foolish Invincibility, is a thank you gift for all her hard work and dedication as my editor for another year. She chose a Delia and Ash oriented story that takes place during the Indigo League season, around that time with all those wonderful filler episodes. So here it is! Also, like my previous works, various original characters that have added great charm to Pallet's already endearing environment will star in this little short too. :)
GENRE: While this story is mainly family/humor, there are elements of angst and minimal drama. What can I say? I am a lover for theatrical turmoil between loved ones! ;)
PG CONTENT: Rated ten and up for mild crude humor.
Also, the title makes NO reference to the song Junk of the Heart by The Kooks. Just had to clarify that in case anyone asked!
Now, please enjoy this heartwarming but silly tale! Especially my beta reader! I truly hope this is what you were looking for. I still can't thank you enough for all your help and encouragement in my work. You're the best. :) AND hopefully it's free of a lot of errors. I went through it with my sister at least three times.
DISCLAIMER: Pokémon belongs to Satoshi Tajiri. Hee-Haw also doesn't belong to me. Any oc's belong to me. :)
Junk of the Heart
Chapter 1
A Small Town's Silly Tradition
The smell of spring blooms wafted through the air of the quaint town of Pallet.
Evening was setting in with such tranquil feelings it was the perfect place to sit and reflect with only the falling sun as company. That is, unless one was one of the many people attending another absurd yet comical town meeting which they were forced to squeeze in their schedule at the last minute.
Crashing into his seat of a fold out chair, Ash looked to Pikachu on his shoulder, who appeared less than thrilled to be out of the house. After a long day of training, all the yellow mouse wanted was to meet his master's comforter and snooze away with thoughts of pokechow and belly rubs on his mind. But to his surprise, he was hauled away along with Ash's family and their traveling companions' right after dinner. He thought they were going to do that leisurely activity of watching the big screen that flashes pictures and makes noise rather than go out somewhere.
Pikachu eventually released a little "chu" of a yawn and his eyelids drooped. Ash's eyes then softened as he gently combed his thumb through the fur on his mouse's head.
"Pikachu's really sleepy," the young trainer observed, his pets reassuring Pikachu everything was all right.
Beside Ash on his right, was Misty, who stretched her arms up in the air. "He's not the only one," she replied, letting out a soft groan from the stretch. Then, her head drooped down, arms lazily collapsing to her sides as she gazed straight on top of Togepi's sleepy head. Like Pikachu, Togepi was tuckered out and was trying to get some shut eye in Misty's warm lap.
Misty just wished she could have the same entitlement. "I'm so tired; I just wanna go home and take a bath."
"Yeah," Ash mused, "a bath does sound nice."
Suddenly, Misty smiled slyly. "I bet it does. You're probably due for one after going three days straight without scrubbing your hair," she sneered with mischievous sea-green eyes, knowing she'd get a defensive reaction out of her friend.
A quick narrowing of his eyebrows Ash's did, and his tone grew snappy and defensive. Misty guessed right. "That's not true!" Ash corrected loudly. "It's only been two!"
The clarification on how long Ash's tresses hadn't met hot water was something that didn't need to be advertised to the whole entire town hall. And Brock pointed that out rather steadily, as he leaned back in his chair with relaxed arms folded behind his head.
"Chill, you guys," he ordered calmly. "Let's just soak in this free time while we can. Just feel that spring breeze. Isn't it nice?"
A pause in thought, made the two exhausted trainers think, and consider Brock's words of wisdom. Or Brock's words of ceasing the bickering before it exploded into epic proportions. It was fair to say however, that something about the smell of freshly mowed grass, sweet nectar from trees, and the pollen of flowers traveling with the wind, brought a natural sensation nothing else could bring. With nothing but collecting badges, catching Pokémon, and making sure everything was in order before officially taking off to the Indigo Plateau and Ash and his companions hadn't fully noticed the change in the season till now.
Till they were sitting by doing absolutely nothing. Nothing but feeling the natural beauty surrounding them. Feeling what it was like to be calm and utterly relaxed again.
Staring off, Ash and Misty were in the midst of soaking in this estrange rush, their tempers almost down to a simmer. That is, till a voice with a Western accent broke the beginning of their meditation.
"Sure it might be nice now, but you won't be enjoyin' that breeze once it becomes an annoyin' draft." All eyes fell upon Ash's grandfather, who, was seated in between Brock and Delia, and looked less than thrilled to be at the town hall. With his arms crossed over his chest, and his eyes closed as if deep in thought, he released an inner spiel. With each word the rant turned more into a growl of irritation and there was rise of fluctuation in his voice.
Never mind the concept of savoring a pleasant spring gust.
"And you'll surely not be enjoin' it, when you've been sittin' here for too long, listenin' to some moron ramble on about making profit off of useless crap while you could be home watchin' reruns of Hee-Haw."
Yeah. A run on of a spiel in which Ash shared glances with his friends, only to give perplexed looks back to the agitated farmer. They should have known by now how Ernest felt about everything. Considering he was the kind of man to voice his opinion whether it was wanted or not.
And like many times, it wasn't wanted.
Sternly, Delia swiveled her gaze at her father. "Dad, watch your tongue."
The last thing she wanted was people staring, and for a big meltdown to ensue. Not like that wasn't going to happen anyway. Usually two or more occurred at a town meeting. One on a good day, but Delia had a churning in her gut that this meeting was definitely going to produce more than one uproar from her dad, or anyone else for that matter.
Turning with a prickled look, Ernest persisted. "You know it's true Delia! The only good thing about this is that it might force your mom to give up some of you and your sister's old baby clothes, unused bed-sheets that take up the hallway closet, extra Christmas decorations, and that damn sewin' machine she insists I can fix."
There were some valid points in her dad's argument, but Delia felt conflicted when facing a reply. She, like her mother, comprehended the struggle of letting sentimental items go. Items that one day may have use to one, and that one would regret if thrown away or given to another. Not that Delia or her mother weren't giving people, it was just... they simply had too many wishes to accomplish, and too many good memories that were represented through fond belongings.
Definitely idealistic thinkers.
Letting her father's words soak in, Delia's expression only grew sharper. A raised brow contradicting his statement. "And maybe you could get rid of some of your old tools you don't use anymore," the farmer's daughter rebutted sharply. For as long as she could remember, Ernest held onto every tool he ever bought or received from a living or deceased relative. Being a farmer and a true outdoors-man, it was only natural for him to have a couple shovels, pitchforks, and hammers. But when the amount increased over three per instrument... Delia felt her dad wasn't much better than her mom.
"Now you know as well as I do that those are antique tools," Ernest hastily corrected, as if that clarification somehow made it better. "Ya can't just sell them off to some neighbor for free!"
To some neighbor for free... Misty in particular observed the heated debate between Ash's mother and grandfather closely, finding herself intrigued by their words. She had wondered since the start what this out of the blue called meeting was about, and after receiving a basic explanation from Delia, Misty got the full picture. Or at least she thought.
Returning her gaze back to Ash, Misty poked him in the arm to get his attention. "Hey," she called. The boy looked at her with blinking eyes as she cleared her throat. "So let me get this straight," the redhead started steadily. "We're attending this town meeting because of some fundraiser that's based on the profit of essentially selling junk?"
Ash paused. "Yeah, that's pretty much it."
Quietly, Misty conducted her own reflective pondering, though it was Brock who spoke up for the both of them.
"Pallet sure has interesting traditions," the older trainer stated, stroking his chin as he gazed ahead.
Ash too whipped his eyesight forward, only to discover a middle-aged man with a slight weight gain, nicely trimmed gray facial hair, and a balding head approaching the podium in front of the room. It would have been foolish to pray someone else would take over the town meetings and that Tom bowed gracefully in retirement of the position. When Tom spoke, Ash either felt fidgety, slightly annoyed, or so bored out of his mind he wished for sleep to consume him viciously.
Slumping further in his chair with the bill of his hat partially covering his eyes, Ash sighed and grumbled. "You have no idea."
Right on cue, a loud slam echoed through the room as a gavel met the top of the podium's wooden surface. However, the townsfolk had grown so used to its repetitive performance they ignored the alerting sound and kept their side conversations going.
"Attention! Attention people!" And apparently, Tom's calls of undivided attention were blatantly disregarded too. Even by his fellow council members who were either sucked into their own discussions, or absentmindedly staring off into space, wishing they weren't there. That of course, was no surprise to the uptight man, though that didn't stop him from sighing in indignation. He felt as if he was the only 'adult' in the room at times. Never mind the fact that he very much acted childishly which only provoked everyone's natural instinct to dismiss him.
So with a roll of his eyes, Tom announced the one thing he knew would draw everyone's attention. "There are sprinkled and custard filled doughnuts in the back with refreshments!" he proclaimed, a slightly perturbed expression still crossing his face. If he could have bet a million bucks on his prediction he would have earned every penny, for all the faces in the packed room fell directly onto him, and silence dominated the once chatty atmosphere.
Feeling as if he had achieved great heights, Tom held his head up high and began the meeting. "Thank you. Now, as you all know our annual Junk of the Heart fundraiser is coming up next week to help raise money for our new grand sign in the making!"
Brock raised a brow, intrigued by this new development. "New sign?" he echoed softly.
"Tom wants to put up a new welcome sign for visitors after he got wind of Viridian's," Ernest explained in a whisper, but loud enough for Delia and the kids to hear. "Like we get any visitors in the first place."
That was new to all three of the trainers, especially Misty and Brock. They recalled Delia mentioning an annual sale coming up, but never the reason why. None of them could argue though that Pallet Town's welcome sign was in need of a new paint job. But to go as far as to totally refurbish the board with a donation of everyone's money? The community was tightly knit, so naturally everyone pitched in to make it the best town possible. Though, even knowing Tom as briefly as they did, Misty and Brock began to see why this might be well- a nag to some.
"I highly advise everyone to begin rummaging through your garages and attics starting tomorrow," Tom insisted, soon elucidating all the important details. "By this upcoming Wednesday you all must have the required paperwork filled out and handed over to Annie, our coordinator for the event," he motioned to Gary's mother on the right, who waved back to the ground faintly to indicate her presence. "Then by Friday you must have a stand ready at eight o'clock sharp for the flea market, which will be inspected by yours truly."
The gesture Tom made so proudly to himself, caused Ernest to snort notably. "Shocker," he mumbled.
"There's paperwork?" asked Misty outwardly, trying to keep up with all the regulations of Pallet's flea market. She was surely surprised they went out of their way to file paperwork for such a small event.
Ernest huffed irritably with glaring eyes at Tom's forehead, as if he had heated pupils that could burn a whole through that thick skull. "You have no idea," he grumbled sourly.
Looking back ahead, Misty's eyes widened finally understanding Ernest's dislike for unnecessary town events... and Tom. "Apparently not," she said, soaking it all in.
"We will start the sale at nine, so please be punctual," Tom continued with heavy emphasis in his voice. "Snacks and drinks will also be supplied by the Butterfree Inn. And lastly, the sale will end around four so it is very important to get the word out to others outside of our community! The more people, the more spenders!"
"And that money from the inn ain't goin' to any stupid sign," Ernest huffed under his breath again, his vexation growing stronger at the mention of his wife's establishment being used for Tom's own profit.
Like a natural reaction, Delia hissed without moving her eyes. "Dad," she warned.
"With the counting of the earnings, we will follow up on the color choice and design of the sign in the next town meeting. But as for now, please go home and start sorting!" Tom encouraged excitedly towards the end of his announcement. "The more unwanted but useful items, the more benefits the town will acquire! And remember, nothing broken or severely used is allowed to be sold! I highly advise to read over the guidelines which are right up here on the podium. After all, we don't want a repeat of last year's incident."
Somewhere in the crowd, Toms' eyes fell upon a certain individual, whom Brock assumed to be the culprit behind "last year's incident". It was too hard to identify though, and the faint laughs, whispers, and Tom's overall displeased look made the young breeder in the making wonder what the incident was. He turned to the two people who would know.
"What happened last year?" Brock inquired, looking to Mrs. Ketchum and her father.
Delia bit her lip, as if unsure to answer, while Ernest just gave him a direct look. "Do you really want to know?" the farmer posed, hinting he honestly didn't.
Uneasily, Brock's eyes darted for he was uncertain on how to reply.
Thankfully, Tom's gavel broke the awkward tension. "Meeting adjourned!" the older man declared.
It was then a flood of people rose up from their seats, and either ran to the supplied treats on the back table or to the front for to the thick stack of guidelines. To no one's surprise, Ash anxiously bounced up from his seat and made way to the place everyone figured he'd go.
"I'm getting a custard filled doughnut!" the boy announced, his feet anxious to start jogging before all the fattening goodies were gone. Brock and Misty decided silently to follow their friend, feeling their throats were in need of a drink. And well, it beat sitting there and listening to any more of Ernest's griping. Though they knew at heart, that was just part of his personality.
Starting their adventure towards the back table, they were suddenly halted by the same voice that had been complaining during the entire meeting.
"Save your mom and me each a maple one, sport!" Ernest ordered playfully over his shoulder, which was directed in particularly to his grandson.
Ash swiveled enough on his feet to return his grandpa's demand with a thumbs-up. "Got it!"
A smile finally swept across Ernest's face as he watched his grandson and friends skitter away to the sweets. Instead of jumping up himself, he figured he'd sit by and wait, for it appeared Leah was in the midst of a pleasant conversation with Annie, most likely about the sale. Ernest always patiently or not, waited for his wife to come over and sought it as a time to casually converse with his daughter.
As soon as the farmer turned back around, he was confronted with another pair of brown eyes looking at him. Only instead of chocolate, they were chestnut.
Delia's soft grin widened as he stared at her. "You still remember?" her tone appeared to be more of an accusation rather than a question.
Ernest caught onto his daughter's words, and smiled back with a pat on her knee. "'Course I do. You've liked maple doughnuts since you were a kid."
The reminder of the sweet childhood memory made Delia's smile remain. Like it had been for many, her grin was infections, infections enough for Ernest to brighten his expression in return. Though surprisingly, something stirred inside Delia enough for it to foam over and for it to diminish the dim of happiness she showcased vividly. With a slightly cocked head, Ernest watched his daughter carefully. She was retracting back into her own thoughts, and the thoughts appeared to be troublesome heightening Ernest's fatherly instinct to uncover the truth.
"You feelin' okay Del?" he asked nonchalantly, not wanting to pressure her into talking.
Eventually, the young mother swept her gaze to her father. "Yeah Dad, I'm fine," Delia reassured with a quick nod. But then, her eyes fell back into her lap, her hands loosely entwined with one another as she struggled to explain. "It's just- well, it sounds silly," she confessed with a weak smile.
Ernest's expression remained the same. "No it doesn't."
Delia whipped her eyes up. "But you haven't even heard it."
"What you say is never silly. Unless it's about namin' the miltank after your favorite fruit pies," he jokingly clarified, bringing up another childhood memory.
That was something Delia couldn't resist grinning at, feeling both silly at her younger-self and torn on how she should express her concerns. What she was feeling wasn't really a shocker to her, or probably anyone else. Still, it was hard to explain.
"Ash is going to be leaving for the league soon," Delia started, her eyebrows lowering. "I know I'll go up there eventually to see him but..."
"But?" Ernest echoed, waiting for his daughter to finish.
At last, she sighed out her final confession. "I'm going to miss him. It feels like he just got here, and now he's almost ready to leave again. It sounds selfish but- I don't want to see him go. Not yet. Not when we've barely had any time together."
The motherly feelings inside Delia were beyond understandable. Ernest knew how difficult it was for Delia to let Ash go, to permit him to travel and collect badges. Especially after all the chaos they went through before Ash's date of departure arrived. Both mother and son went on a roller coaster of an emotional journey, and found the needed strength that had been dormant for far too long. The need to trust one another and accept reality for what it was. And Delia had improved greatly in letting her worries and pain go. To accept eating alone during meals and be the only presence in the near empty house. But now, with Ash home like the old times... The times when he was attending school, going to work with her, running off to his secret hideout or Prof. Oak's lab, sitting across from her laughing and smiling at the dinner table...
At the faint reminiscing of her baby's constant presence, Delia felt her heartstrings being tugged. Ash was going to be leaving in a week and a half. And while Delia understood perfectly how much her son valued training and wanted more than anything for him to be happy and content- There was still, a small glimmer. A need to hold onto him just a little bit longer.
This expression, the tone resonating in Delia's vocal cords was nothing foreign to her dad, and without hast Ernest sought for a cure to her motherly woes.
Pondering in deep thought, his gaze traveled across the room and soon back to her. A very simple, but nonetheless brilliant idea burst into his mind. Heck, the farmer was surprised his own daughter hadn't even thought of it.
"Well," he began with a swallow, "maybe this fundraiser is actually a good thing."
Since when did Mr. Anti-social in anything involving the town's ridiculous developments claim the fundraiser was a 'good thing'?
Delia was perplexed. "What do you mean?"
"No one ever said sortin' out old belongin's is fun, but uh- at least it'd be somethin' you two could do together before you leave," he proposed openly.
In what felt like a long time since, Delia considered her father's words and appreciated the input he so willingly thrown out. After all, he too was trying to adjust to the big shift in their life, and come to terms with accepting his daughter as an independent woman. Not a little farm girl with freckles who needed his aid whenever, wherever.
"Something we could do together..." Delia pondered over the idea for a minute, appearing to deeply consider it. It's not as if she had no intentions of cleaning that attic. Time just always flew by so quickly, and with all the extra work she had been taking on at the inn as well as helping her parents... Some of the things that were up in that crowded space might stir some dormant emotions she wasn't sure of broadcasting willingly quite yet...
Eventually, Delia gleamed at her dad again. "You know Ash doesn't like cleaning though, right?" she posed, though there was a hint of humor in her voice.
Ernest chuckled back. "Hehe, whether he likes cleanin' or not, it's good for 'im. And I'm sure there's some stuff up there that needs to be looked at again. Things that will remind you of Ash while he's away."
The implied hinting was heavy enough to make Delia smile. And silently agree.
While munching on doughnuts, the kids found themselves in a claustrophobic huddle, till Brock spotted a clear spot further away from the crowded table. So with goodies and their Pokémon in tow, the friends pranced over to the less noisy area, conversing in their own discussion with mouthfuls and sips of water. The warmth of the room from all the collected body heat was making Misty drowsy, however, the chatter itself kept her awake enough to start a new conversation.
A conversation in which she was intrigued by.
"So, are you gonna sell anything?" the redhead inquired, taking a sip of water from her water bottle as she balanced Togepi in her arms.
Ash shrugged, clenching his half eaten doughnut. "I dunno. Maybe."
"Ash, your room is packed full of stuff," Misty reminded evenly. "I'm sure you don't need everything in there."
The explosion on Ash's floor was a dead giveaway on that topic. Whether it was garbage he was too lazy to throw away or many unsorted items, Ash had things to at least go through and sort. That, and Delia's constant nagging for him to clean his room before he left for the league was also pushing him onto the task. Misty and Brock even volunteered to lend a hand. But shrugging it off, Ash simply stuffed all the belongings back into the drawers of his dresser or under his bottom bed. Halfway stuffed that is, seeing part of the mess was still visible if the eye looked close enough.
Ash's brows narrowed and he frowned. "Don't look at me! Mom's the pack-rat," he claimed defensively, taking a big bite. "She keeps everything."
"Really?" Brock raised an eyebrow. He begged to differ. "'Cause your home looks pretty clean to me. And I would know!"
Dealing with a mother who changed her impending hobby every week, a father who was too exhausted and passive to keep up with his effervescent wife, and nine little brothers and sisters who were in continuous need of attention and toys and naturally had a bad habit of leaving a mess behind wherever they went-
Brock knew what it meant to own too many luxury items. After all, there were too many people in his house.
"It may look clean, but she keeps a whole bunch of stuff locked away in the attic," Ash continued to explain with a mouthful, backing up his assertion. Then, he swallowed. "She never goes through it."
"So you're saying she's never participated in the sale?" Misty asked again, somewhat surprised.
Delia was always the giving type, and Misty assumed with Delia's bursts of energy she'd go out of her way to set up a table, help the town, and reorganize her already pristine house. Then again, considering Mrs. Ketchum both worked and ran a household by herself- in retrospect, it wasn't really a shock that she didn't take a peak in that attic. But it did make Misty wonder what exactly was up in that dark spooky place.
"Nah." Once the last nibble of his custard doughnut did its famous vanishing act, Ash licked the remaining chocolate frosting off his fingers. "Mom's always busy at the inn so she never has time. That and she usually just buys even more stuff at the sale. She's kind of addicted to antiques."
In a sense, Brock and Misty could see Ash's point of view. Delia did like to go rummage shopping, and as of late she had shown the kids the new knickknacks she had collected while they were away traveling rugged roads and climbing scary heights. Ash's mother claimed they were 'deals' she had found bargain hunting, which usually altered Ash to bare a very terrified look. To Ash, Delia always went overboard whenever Saturday Market was up and running, a vintage flea market, or when the coupons were coming like crazy in the mail that they had to make a mad dash to Viridian's Super Market, just to snag the soap dispensers and frozen fruit that were ten percent off.
Brock on the other hand, liked the idea of flea markets. For one, it was another easy way to meet girls, to practice his 'smooth moves' and 'words of enchantment'. That is, till Misty squashed his pro list with the reality that most women who went to market were old. So old it took them ten minutes in line to find a pen to write a check, forget and then have a sudden relapse of what to buy, and fumbling through their purses to find their fourth pair of glasses. That description didn't fit the profile of a fourteen to eighteen year old girl.
Even taking in that reality check, Brock quietly hoped they attended the Junk of the Heart sale. And that a pretty girl would be swooned by his charms.
"Well maybe this year she will," Brock suggested, keeping his hopeless hopes at bay.
Ash just snorted with a wave of his hand. "I highly doubt it. Mom takes on big projects all the time, but nothing like that. She won't let go of any of that stuff."
In a sense, Brock could relate. Not that he was the kind to claim every piece of item held significance... but his mother did. Like Delia, though more on the extreme side, Lola cherished all the little crafts, handmade gifts, and random sticks and stones the children found in the yard as precious treasures. Brock could vividly see Delia would be the same on a similar extent. She was such a dedicated mom as it was and Ash was her only child after all. Which meant she probably adored everything he gave her to the magnitude of having three little ones!
"You sure?" Misty questioned again, still a tad befuddled by Ash's affirmation. In her opinion, he was most likely embellishing. "Because I didn't get the impression that your mom's a hoarder."
Out of nowhere, Ash's brows creased again. Only this time it wasn't out of the annoyance of badgering or constant questions. It appeared as if he was insulted. "Hey!" he shouted. "My mom's not like that! She's a married woman!"
"What?" Brock and Misty exclaimed back in unison, severely perplexed.
What in the world was Ash talking about? They knew very well Delia was married, hence: they referred to her as Mrs. Ketchum. But what did the fact of her being a claimed woman have anything to do with-
With speedy thinking, Brock deciphered Ash's words for all of them. Another incident of miscommunication. Similar to the 'streaker' fumble in the sewers concerning a magnemite following Pikachu, when Ash actually meant 'stalker'. In exhaustion, Brock sighed. Boy did that kid need to get his vocabulary in check.
"Ash you're talking about a-" he stopped himself short, seeing the blinking stare he earned from Ash and the slightly unnerved one from Misty. He didn't want to say it out loud, nor explain to Ash the difference between the Shakespearean term for a lady of a night and hoarder. That wasn't his place, and seeing he already played big brother to Ash in many other uncomfortable situations, he decided to let that one slide for the day.
Feeling flustered, Brock adjusted his throat and continued. "Well, never mind what you meant!" he finally spat, trying to wrap his mind around it all. "What Misty means, is that she didn't think your mom was someone who collects random stuff and can never let go of it."
"But it's not random stuff to her," Ash countered, already forgetting his mishap over delicate words. "It's stuff that she says has sig-signif-"
"Significance?" Misty finished, feeling a twinge of exasperation.
Ash snapped his fingers and beamed a smile. "Yeah! Like my baby pictures, clothes, and toys. You know. That kind of stuff."
Stuff he preferred her not to advertise to everyone. Like many adolescent boys, Ash's childhood riches were embarrassing items that needed be tucked away and completely forgotten. All the self-exposed baby pictures and the tiny tikes toys were things Ash didn't want his friends to see. It was bad enough Gary felt the need to pick him apart and know some of his secrets, but his friends were totally off limits. They didn't have any need to see a bare-butt baby Ash or know how long he had to use training wheels. No humiliation was going to go down.
"Well that's understandable," Brock said, again, relating to his friend. "My Mom does the exact same thing. And believe me she's got a lot of me and my sibling's baby stuff!"
"Guess it's just a mom thing then," Ash concluded, still faintly perturbed by the worry of his mother participating in the sale. So he tried to keep things in perspective for his own sake. "But I wouldn't worry about this whole flea market thing," he hurriedly assured, not wanting to give his friends the wrong idea. "We probably won't get involved which means- more training for us!" he exclaimed, pumping his fist into the air. The sudden exclamatory and excited motion shook Pikachu out of his dazed stupor on Ash's shoulder. And his ears twitched at the mention of the word 'training'.
And Misty's eyebrow did a different kind of twitching. Keeping Togepi close to her chest, the redhead cocked another artful eye. "You mean for you? You as in singular?" she corrected.
Ash just slumped and narrowed his eyes again. "Yeah, yeah..." he scoffed.
Just outside the quaint town hall lurked three undetected miscreants who, at the mention of doughnuts, felt their stomachs rumble with deep wanting and torture. Custard doughnuts, and with sprinkles to boot!
They, unlike most residents in Pallet, did not care for the spring air. Especially not after having to sleep on park benches, bales of hay, and under trees with no blankets and while hearing strange noises in the night. But finally. Just finally after snooping around the saccharine town and all its idiosyncratic characters within its jolly atmosphere- they finally caught a break. And had their next big scheme mulling over in their conniving but not quick-witted heads.
No longer pressing her ear against the door and with a whip of her long magenta locks, Jessie cocked a wily smile at her partner. "Did you hear that James?"
"I heard them loud and clear, Jess," he replied, throwing a similar conspiring eye back at the young woman.
"Making money off of futile junk- We should have thought of that ages ago!" Jessie exclaimed. She felt robbed of the cheap, but equally brilliant concept. Then, she went back to the discussion at hand. "So you thinking what I'm thinking?"
"We're gonna build a robot!"
James was cut short by their feline's sudden announcement, and was left puzzled on how to respond. Building a robot was not James's assumption, and by the cross look on Jessie's face, he assumed that wasn't what she was thinking either.
"Uh... I don't think that's what Jessie had in mind, Meowth," he finally said, slightly hesitant.
The declaration only made Jessie's thin brows narrow. "Robot?" She didn't have time for any nonsense, especially nonsense that didn't make halfway sense. "What in the world are you babbling about Meowth?!"
Meowth held up his paws. "Just hold onto your ponyta and let da genius I am explain," he said confidently, now gesturing to himself.
Jessie raised a brow. "Genius?"
"I beg to differ," James concluded for the both of them. "Meowth, you come up with just as many hair-brained schemes as we do!"
"Yeah! Who's to say this isn't going to end up in our top ten worst failures?!" Jessie added, equally if not more nettled than her partner.
"Just let me explain!" the talking cat shrieked out of defense. They really needed to calm down and listen! "I'm tellin' ya, it's a great idea!"
Huffing, the woman folded her arms over her full chest. "All right, fine. But it better be good or you don't get a turn sleeping with that raggedy cloth we found!" she hissed, giving fair warning. She was the one who found that mangy left over piece of blanket in a nearby dumpster! That is to say, after Meowth pointed out there was some cloth like material hanging out of the trash can.
Meowth casually waved a paw in the air. "No worries," he assured unruffled. "I've got da best plan ever!"
"Then spit it out already!" Jessie snarled impatiently.
"Okay, Okay! What if we steal some of dat old junk at dat dinky sale, and turn it into a massive robot to swipe Pikachu and da loot they made off of dat garbage!" the cat suggested rather enthusiastically through 'paw' motions and toothy smiles of prosperity.
But he appeared not to get the same fervor in return.
Crouched in their spying positions by the front doors, James and Jessie sweat-dropped in unison. They fell silent with slightly open mouths, staring directly at their feline companion with blank stares.
"Uh..." Jessie started, finding difficulty on how to respond.
"Yeah... I don't think so Meowth," James at last spoke on both their behalf's.
Rather confused, Meowth cocked his head to the side. "Why not?"
"Why not?" Jessie grimaced between clenched teeth. "Because it's a hardly well thought out plan of attack! That's why."
"It ain't not!" Meowth argued. "If ya would just let me finish explainin', I was gonna tell you twos how I've been savin' all da parts I could savage from our past blown up machines! At least da stuff I could catch in the air," he admitted shamefully, recalling all the times they were blasted off into the stratosphere.
Like turning on a light bulb, Jessie and James's facial expression glimmered with a faint glow. Now they were getting somewhere. They had to admit, it was clever of Meowth to stash away those semi-functional parts and keep them hidden in that knapsack of his.
James for a while actually had another assumption as to why the balloon had difficulty soaring very high in the air.
"Oh!" the blue haired man exclaimed, speaking without thinking first. "I was wondering why the balloon had gotten so heavy recently. I actually thought that was Jess-" A moment too late, James realized what he was about to say, and like an old habit, felt the death glare that was sizzling on the back of his head.
He hardly had a chance to glance over his shoulder and apologize, before a dramatic whack against his head with Jessie's fit caused his downfall. Colliding into the wood face first, James twitched erratically in pain, feeling the presence of a panting Jessie looming over him.
"How dare you question my weight! If anyone deserves questioning, it's you with all those sodas and puddings you eat!" he heard her snarl angrily above him.
Inconsiderate or not, who could blame the guy for assuming such? Out of all of them, Jessie usually took a smidgen of their already pathetic rations and she had been complaining about her figure. Nevertheless, James hoped he had finally learned his lesson when accusing his partner's body to be the source of the balloon's lack of high air travel. Or more like Jessie hoped he would.
"I think I see where you're going with this, Meowth," James eventually murmured weakly with his face still smashed ferociously into the deck of the town hall.
Meowth frowned at his human friend's pathetic position. He just couldn't keep his mouth shut. "No Jimmy, I don't tink you do."
Ignoring anymore of James's quivering and whimpers, Jessie did her own contemplating. Silently, she tried piecing Meowth's proposal together and weigh out the pros and cons against hers. Meowth's was definitely more elaborate. Then again, wouldn't it just be easier to snatch Pikachu at the sale and hightail it for the mountains with bundles of cash?
"Hmm... So you're suggesting with the parts we do have, we will steal some useless junk that will somehow make a new and complete robot?" Jessie hypothesized, looking to Meowth.
The cat raised his small arms up in the air. "Exactamundo!"
"I don't know Meowth," James shrugged haplessly as he rose slowly. He was wary of being attacked again. "It sounds like a bit of a stretch. Besides, we could always just ask the boss-"
"No we can't ask the boss," his partner firmly cut in, still slightly vexed with him. "For once, Meowth has a point."
Meowth's eyes shimmered at Jessie in amazement. "I do?"
"James, if we go to the boss for more money or gadgets, he's bound to have our heads. Think of our last interaction!" Jessie reminded firmly, the unpleasant thought vexing her all the more that she wasn't able to wear sunscreen that day. "We were digging up shelldar at Seafoam Island just so we'd be out of his hair! Then when we tried to do something with that Eastwood the Fourth guy, the twerps ruined everything!"
"Yeah," Meowth agreed solemnly, letting his eyes wander to the side in his own thought, "and dat Persian got to drink all dat organic milk out of a saucer and sunbathe..."
There was significant validity in Jessie's stern reminder. After failing their entire trip through Kanto in both Pokémon napping and rare Pokémon sightings, Giovanni was less than pleased with their results. If they dared to go crawling back to him for more money, Jessie was one-hundred percent sure one of them was going to be the new throw-rug in his office. Their boss, as of late, had been extra unsettled not only by their pathetic efforts, but everything in general. He appeared twice as snappy, twice as impatient, and twice as ruthless. Even his little vacation on Seafoam Island spoke of the less than semi-tolerable tones. Whispers around Headquarters before the big unexplained explosion, spoke of something leaving Giovanni's mind very restless. Or someone.
Projects, Pokémon, or whoever it was, their additional trouble to Giovanni's already severed temper wasn't helping out the dastardly trio in their schemes of success. Which left them to tie all the loose ends of their objective without any assistance.
Feeling the small hairs on the back of his next stand on end, James released a sharp squeal. "Eeek! You're right, Jessie," he agreed, taking note of his partner's words. "I don't think aggravating the boss anymore would be wise. But how are we going to build a robot in time before the twerps leave for the Indigo League?" James seriously questioned, looking at all angles. "And we don't know the first thing about assembling machines!"
"Calm down!" she ordered, not liking the whiny tone he was using. "We'll figure something out."
James's brow wrinkled. "You're not seriously considering this idea are you?"
"We've done worse," she reasoned bitterly with closed eyes. "However... I don't know if we'll be able to build the robot in time."
"So..."
Both Meowth and James lingered that impending word anxiously, watching their teammate deep in thought with the final verdict. Then after a few seconds, her blue eyes flashed open with confidence and certainty. As her mouth moved, they held their breath and waited.
"We will execute my plan which is: go to the sale incognito, nab Pikachu and the cash... and anything else we might find," Jessie concluded with a slip of a weak grin. What could she say? Even for being a Team Rocket agent, she had wants and needs too! Like a new hairbrush or fingernail filer. She was tired of gazing at her uneven chipped nails.
With drooping ears and a pain in the heart, Meowth gleamed at Jessie as he fiddled with his paws. "Can my robot at least be a long-term plan?" he proposed meekly, shy eyes prying for approval.
Another pause came. "...Perhaps."
The tone Jessie used indicated more of a 'no' than an 'I'll think about'. As if a soft violin was playing its pathetic strings in the background, Meowth sunk into a depressed state. A 'woe is me' pout as a spouting of tears fell from his tear-ducks. Those tears were the result of a cat with high hopes to make the next grand scheme come true, and to not only be treated with respect by his comrades, but by his boss as well.
"Why me?" the cat yowled, covering his face dramatically with the back of his paw. "Shot down again!"
Coming to his side, James patted the feline's back with sympathy. "Don't get down Meowth." The man bore a soft smile with a twinge of reassurance, trying to be the middle man between the cat and his female companion. "You'll get the spotlight once the boss is in a halfway decent mood again... And when we pay back our debts," he added, the truth biting him in the butt.
A pathetic sniffle fell from Meowth's mouth as he glanced up at James. "Yeah," he sniffled again sourly, "and when's dat gonna be?"
"Oh, quit your blubbering!" Jessie growled. She was sick and tired of this pity fest, and didn't see any need for it to carry on. Her plan was flawless and much more logical than the construction of a robot that would take weeks to build. Then again, it would be quite impressive if it was built by their own hands. Plus, if it all went over well, Giovanni was sure to give them some kind of bonus... But it did come from Meowth. And last time Jessie checked, Meowth didn't have long luxurious magenta locks which meant he wasn't supposed to make any of the big important decisions.
Seeing that her harsh remark wasn't doing much good in easing any tears or stress levels, the woman sighed and attempted to come off in a more- gentle manner. "At least we have a plan set in stone and the satisfaction that this will not fail," she assured, faintly for the sanity of her teammates.
Another abject whimper fell from Meowth furry lips. "How so?" he croaked, big eyes looking up again.
"Because we will dress so exact to all these people in this silly little town that we'll blend in without any suspecting eyes."
Meowth smeared a last tear and huffed at her hypothesis. "At least dat's your prediction," he huffed under his breath.
"That is what's going to happen and this is going to work." Jessie could feel her blood boil with a speeding righteousness, a poetic speech on the horizon to motivate their plans. That's about all they had left to push them forward. "Team Rocket agents aren't supposed to steer away from a fight! We're supposed to take challenges head on with the passion of determination flowing through our veins!"
"Or the passion of cholesterol," James sarcastically mumbled, a ring of low pessimism in his voice. What they could scrounge for food, it had been lacking various required nutrition.
That was thankfully for his sake, gone on ignored by Jessie as she went on being consumed in her forced enthusiasm. "By next Friday, that money and Pikachu will be ours. Say it with me team!" she commanded with strong perseverance in her voice. "Let's make the boss proud and get on his good side again!"
If they were ever on Giovanni's 'good side' in the first place.
In most cases, the trio was much better at fantasizing the result, rather than actually executing it. This occasion entailed only one however, who found enough durability to withstand the usual downs and upsets after losing too many battles. Jessie had, to admit to a point, that her zeal was partially forced as was the riling up of her partners. The least they could do was to pretend it'd go over well. She wasn't the only one feeling sleep and food deprived!
"I said, say it with me," the magenta haired woman snapped between her teeth, egging on for their usual cue to take off.
But James and Meowth stayed slumped in their silent position, looking twice as down and exhausted as they previously were. With Meowth's ambitions squashed and James simply plain and tired, neither of them really had any energy left to get excited about a strategy that was still in the beginning stages of planning. And another mention of doughnuts on the other side of the closed doors was really aggravating them.
Sighing, James looked to his partner with dreary eyes. "I'm sorry, Jess. It's just the hunger pains."
She was about to say something in return, only for her to ironically be hit with a familiar rumble in her gut. It groaned loud enough for James and Meowth to hear, and for a streak of pink to skim across Jessie's cheeks. Her irritability and demand did heighten when she was under extreme amounts of stress. And none of that was good for her beautiful mind and body.
"I see what you mean," confessed Jessie as her chin fell to her chest, her voice wavering jadedly. Then, a yawn took over and a need to leave the forsaken platform after a fifth faint mention of rainbow sprinkles and chocolate frosting. Oh the torture! "Let's just get excited about our new plan tomorrow," she suggested, waving casually.
Without hesitation, but still worn out, James nodded. "Agreed."
And too did Meowth, in both self-pity and weariness. But especially self-pity. "Agreed," he breathed.
Without delay and full stomachs, Ash and his companions merged through the crowd again. It appeared the cluster of people was thinning. Slowly but surely civilians were leaving and seeking sanctuary back in their homes. The kids too felt tempted to run home, jump in their pajamas, and pop in a movie, but their main objective, was handing over the doughnuts to Delia and Ernest. Then they could officially leave.
So with swift feet they walked down the small walkway and waltzed to Delia and Ernest's seats, presenting the treats to them promptly.
"Here are your doughnuts!" Ash proclaimed, he holding each of his relatives promised sweets.
The doughnuts appeared untouched, the maple glaze fully intact with no bite marks on the side. Though, it wouldn't have surprised Delia or her dad if Ash snagged a taste out of each of them.
Reaching out, Ernest took the doughnut and nodded. "Thanks, Ash."
"Thank you, pumpkin," Delia said gratefully, gently taking the dessert wrapped in a napkin.
They were about to indulge in their treat that minute, which enticed Ash to insist they'd head home till- At the sound of soft footsteps, Ernest's eyes glistened warmly. Glancing to the left, he spotted his wife approaching their little gathering, thrilled himself that she was finally ready to go. And that Tom and the rest of the council crew were making their way out.
"Ah, there's the lady of the hour," he announced sweetly, making Leah's lips crack open and turn upward. She stopped next to his seat, though he got up speedily to stand with her. "All finished up?"
"I can thankfully say, yes," she sighed. These were just the beginning stages of business stress with the inn's preparations and Tom's heckling about the sale. Being so naturally quiet and even, Leah never stirred much of a complaint. It was a gift that she had obtained, and seeing she was one of the very few people to remain so cool and calm in the toughest situations, Ernest swore his wife had the temperament of an angel.
Batting tired eyes, Leah still didn't forget the natural courtesy to acknowledge her grandson's friends. "Hi, kids," she spoke kindly.
Both Misty and Brock waved back together casually. "Hi, Mrs. Parker."
"How are you doing?" Brock politely pressed.
"Oh, fine. It's just the busy season again. But when is our town not busy?" she contradicted with a faint chuckle, the thought of all the town events rattling through her brain. There was something for every season and what felt like every other month.
"Very rare, apparently," Misty answered this time. After Ash filled them in on all the other special occasions and normal holidays every other place would celebrate, Misty could only imagine how much coordinating Leah was faced with on daily basis.
Chocolate eyes grew as Ash took notice of his grandmother's empty hand, prompting him to perform the task he just did. "Hey, Grandma?" he called gently, receiving her attention. "Do you want a doughnut? I could go get you one," the boy offered, gesturing to the back table.
Leah's smile grew and she shook her head. "Oh no, sweetheart. I'm fine. I can just share with your grandpa. I'm sure he won't mind." The nudging of Ernest's arm inclined for him to willingly hand over the treat, and he did so with a gruff sigh, but smiled nonetheless. He knew Leah was just playing with him.
Carefully snatching the dessert, she gestured a wave and began her steps to the front doors. "See you all tomorrow. Rest well."
"Thanks," the three trainers said in unison. "You too."
Another grin was exchanged between Delia and her mother, as was a motherly pat on Delia's shoulder. She nodded back at her mom as if understanding their silent conversation, and then did the same with Ernest.
"Goodnight kids," the farmer said, opening one of the front door for him and his wife. "Sleep well, Delia."
The young woman nodded back. "Thanks, Dad. You too."
From there, Ernest threw one last glance at Delia before strutting off with Leah by his side. She watched attentively as they left, and the anxiety bubbling inside her brewed harder. The simple look over his shoulder, indicated to Delia for her to take a chance at suggesting the sorting of their belongings to Ash. There was a definite feeling of her wanting to ask him such, but as to when and where... Letting her contemplation rest, Delia flashed a smile at the three adolescents standing before her. Then, she motioned towards the door with her head.
"So, you kids ready to go?"
They all shared a glance before answering. "I think we've been ready all evening," Brock answered for he and his friends, till a yawn caused the last of his words to be garbled.
Delia's smile softened. "I can imagine you're all sleepy. And for suffering through this, how about you three decide the movie for tonight?"
Ash eyes were the first to widen in excitement. "Awesome!" he exclaimed, raising his arms up.
"Thanks Mrs. Ketchum," Misty added, her enthusiasm on the calmer side.
It wasn't long before Delia tossed her purse-strap over her shoulder, Ash snagging one last doughnut for the trip, and for Brock to open the front door for them all to make their grand exit. Leading the way home while chewing his last bit of a glazed doughnut, Ash turned around and walked backwards as he casually beamed at Misty. He saw a spark in her eye, one that he bore as they both quietly devised a plan. A plan Brock anticipated would be brought up to him.
"Hey Brock," Misty eventually called for his attention as they walked along the dirt road, "do you think you can make popcorn with that special blend you use before we start the movie?"
He figured as much. His secret recipe of seasoning was a big hit with Misty and Asg, and even Delia admitted she'd appreciate it if he'd slip her the list of ingredients. So he did.
The older boy laughed softly and nodded to his friend. "Sure, Misty."
"Oh, and could ya throw in some M&M's and a few peanuts too?" Ash didn't hesitate to ask, eager to taste the mixture of sweet, buttery, and salty.
Another laugh, but much louder one escaped from his throat. "If you want, Ash."
There was a delightful feeling inside Delia as the mother watched the innocent exchange between her son and his friends. Never did she want to take away Ash's remaining free time, nor spoil any last minutes he had to squeeze in another training session. But what about them? Their relationship? They had hardly done one single thing together since Ash's tenth birthday party, and that reminder pained Delia as she realized he wasn't at home for his eleventh. No preparations of a cake, no agenda of setting up streamers and balloons, and no buying any presents...
Delia's smile shrank. Time was slipping faster and faster than any of them anticipated, and Delia knew in the back of her mind she'd end up regretting not asking Ash what he'd like to do. The preparation for the big sale would be at least a new special memory to add to their lengthy list of ones. And it would probably be one of the last memories she'd share with her son for a while. Even if he did refuse and out up a fuss, at least it was a shot, and Delia could live with that than not trying at all.
"Uh, Ash?"
Ash stepped back and peered over his shoulder at the call of his name. "Yeah, Mom?"
There, Delia stopped in her tracks, eyes gently locked with her son's big chocolate pupils. Nervously with a slipping of a grin, she started. "Grandpa and I were talking... and I think we're going to participate in the sale with Grandma."
Panic and disbelief rose to the boy's head. He gulped, trying to hold down his explosive reaction. "You mean, you want to clean out the attic?" Ash clarified. Since when? And what brought this up? Ash wondered if it was something Ernest had said, or if it was just a little plan his mom had been cooking up the entire time. Either way, he wasn't thrilled.
Delia's grin grew sheepish. "Why not?" she shrugged. "With you kids here you can help me, and who knows! It might be fun!"
'Fun' wasn't exactly the word Ash would use to describe cleaning out forgotten items that were in disarray and covered in layers of dust that would set off a hundred sneezes. Nor would his impending nightmares of laughs and jabs be 'fun' to face. A shiver of worry spiked inside the boy as he froze in alarm.
"But of course I don't expect Brock and Misty to feel obligated," Ash's mom was kind enough to state, looking to Ash's friends with no intent of causing them any stress.
A sigh of mental relief exhaled inside Ash. That much was reassurance. He believed, he could guarantee Brock and Misty to decline from Delia's suggestion, and hopefully the mention of them being his 'coaches' for the league, was much direr than rummaging through embarrassing tokens. After all, that had been the task they were all so dedicated to... well, besides exploring mountains, running errands for Delia, visiting his grandparents, and somehow getting into trouble with the likes of Team Rocket.
But still even with all those distractions, they went out of their way to properly train for the league.
Tragically however, Ash was given a big letdown.
"We wouldn't mind helping," offered Misty willingly.
"Yeah," Brock agreed, just as forward. "For letting us stay with you, we're happy to lend a hand Mrs. Ketchum. It's the least we could do."
Immediately, Ash's jaw dropped open. Seriously guys?! Had he not explained to them that Delia was unlikely to fall through with it?
It was inevitable for them to be polite no matter what the case, however, Ash would have bet money that his friends would have seen things his way. Between Brock's sharp reminders on strategies and Misty's persistent hounding to work harder even when Ash was growing bored or tired, he kept at his training. Then, the one time he expected them to fall through for him, they didn't! Instead, it seemed as if Misty and Brock wanted to join in on all the Pallet Town traditions and Ash couldn't stomach that they'd let their kindness and intrigue take over the importance of battle tactics.
Scoffing softly to himself, Ash continued to watch the scene unfold in utter shock.
"That's so sweet of you both. I really do appreciate it," Delia replied, genuinely glad. The excitable glistening in her eyes lingered to her son's forming grumpy face and with loving persuasion she hoped Ash would make the arrangements solid. "So what do you say, honey?" she asked, eagerness stirring in her voice. "Help Mom with one last chore before running off to fulfill your dreams?"
At first, Ash wanted to cry out 'no way' or 'you've got to be kidding me'! But for some reason, the trainer held back his tongue. There was this look in Delia's eyes, a warm hue he had seen before. And was beginning to understand. Like many devoted mothers, Delia felt like a basket-case when Ash was away, and having him home even for a short while was a slice of heaven to the woman. That Ash knew very well. He hated it when he saw her depressed, or cry, or feel utterly alone. Too much witnessing of such distraught emotions had been shown to him, and Ash never wanted to be the cause of his mother's discomfort. Still, it was hard for the eleven year old to let go of selfish desires and see the whole picture for what it was worth.
Does she not get that I've got training to do? Ash huffed silently to himself, eyes gleaming up at the setting sun. The league is only a few weeks away and she wants to clean out the attic? What is she thinking? Sooner than later, Ash's gaze traveled back to the others, and was instantly hit with a sharp glance and a raised brow. He released another internal huff. But she HAS given me a lot of time to train and now Misty's giving me one of those: 'do the right thing' looks. Ah, man! This is so not fair! I don't wanna clean! The only upside would be-
He paused at that point, realizing how much of the time he had been avoiding extensive training. But still, he was somewhat on top of it! Feeling a tad foolish, Ash twisted his mouth and thought more in depth about his decision. It certainly wouldn't kill him to roll up his sleeves and get in and clean. Delia had only asked for him to help with the sorting and cleaning, not necessarily the sale. Which was fair enough, considering he'd still have ample opportunities to train.
I guess I'll just humor Mom a little bit, Ash at last decided, a small smile gracing his confident lips. Besides, I HAVE been training AND improving a lot. It's not like I've been doin' nothing...
Wandering eyes lingered back to his awaiting mother, which he could faintly see the suspense crossing her face. With consideration, Ash allowed the apprehension to end. "All right," he breathed with a nod. "But can we wait till morning to start? I'm really tired."
The sorting through items still wasn't enticing to him. But Delia didn't mind.
As the mother's heart sang at her son's confirmation, her smile grew simultaneously. "Of course, silly."
TO BE CONTINUED...
Author's Note:
For the record I ADORE Jessie, James, and Meowth and ADORE writing for them. I don't know why, I just do. :) I guess it's because I had to preview some of season one again, to make sure everything flowed correctly during their stay in Pallet, which brought back very fond memories of these three. To me, Eric Stuart, Rachael Lillis, and Maddie Blaustein MADE these characters. They were just awesome like that.
Anyway, that's the end of chapter one! I really do hope you're all enjoying the story so far, and be prepared for more laughs and heartfelt moments as the clean out the attic. Can't help but throw those in! :D
Oh and lastly, I do know the correct name is Westwood the Fifth, not Eastwood the Fourth. That was of course done on purpose, similar to how I had Jessie and James fumble over Prof. Oak's name in another short story. Sorry. Just had to clarify that!
Thank you all so much for reading and reviews are greatly appreciated. :D Please stay tuned!