Straight as a Rainbow

Disclaimer: I don't own Pokemon or anything else you recognize. I love reviews. Even flames. Flames are funny… like gay people, only more queer.

Also, please note that I have absolutely nothing against Brock, Tracey, or gay people in general. The fact that Tracey and Brock are/will be (pretending) to be gay is simply part of the plot. They're not just gay for the heck of it.

Summary: Brock decides that he's been rejected by Joy and Jenny far too many times and decides to take action. To catch their hearts, he pretends to be gay, hiring Ash as his boyfriend and getting Tracey's attention along the way… but things don't go exactly as planned.

- - - - - -

Brock looked all around, checking for any civilians able to see him. None. He quickly threw a wadded up piece of paper on the ground. He walked over to a bench nearby, took out a small pocket knife, and made a small, neat gash in his pointer finger. Seeing the little droplets of blood, he forced out some fake tears and ran to the emergency phone just next to the bench. He picked up the phone, and using his good pointer finger, he dialed Officer Jenny.

"RING RING RING! RING RING RING! PHONE CALL! PHONE CALL! RING RING RING!" Officer Jenny's phone announced. She sighed and went to pick up the phone, praying it wasn't her psychotic stalker… what was his name? Brad?

"WHAT DO YOU WANT?" She screamed, seeing his picture on the phone. On the other end, Brock didn't flinch. He was used to her outbursts.

"Officer! There is a litterbug in town! Please, come immediately!!!" Brock said stupidly.

"Alright, I'm on my way," She said, reaching for her gun.

Brock shifted the phone back into its cradle and lifted it again. He quickly dialed the Pokemon center and summoned the tears back.

- - - - - -

"RING RING RING! RING RING RING! PHONE CALL! PHONE CALL! RING RING RING! RING RING RING! PHONE CALL! PHONE CALL!" declared Nurse Joy's emergency line. She rushed to pick it up, only to see that guy that stalked her and all of her cousins… Brian?

"NURSE JOY! I'VE INJURED MYSELF TERRIBLY! I NEED EMERGENCY ASSISTANCE!" Brock shouted.

"What happened?" She asked, unconcerned.

"I've suffered a serious abrasion!" He said, tears escaping his eyes and freely flowing down his face.

"I'll be right there," she told him.

- - - - - -

"What is it this time?" said Jenny sarcastically. "Where's the offensive piece of litter?"

"There is no serious abrasion, is there?" said Joy.

"No. But I was just going to ask both of you lovely ladies to dinner!" Brock said with a smile.

Joy sighed. "Brian, when are you going to get it?"

Jenny absent-mindedly touched her gun. "We are never going to go out with you."

"Okay," said Brock, rejected. He wiped away a tear. Jenny almost felt bad for the pathetic loser. He looked genuinely hurt. Joy and Jenny both turned their backs to him and left him on his park bench, only to hear him call out: "But don't you both have cousins in Cerulean City?"

- - - - - -

"What is it about me," Brock wondered, looking the mirror. "Is it my nose? My eyes?" He reached up to his eyes and tried to pry them open using his index finger and thumb. They were inexplicably unopenable. He patted down his hair, vaguely wondering what he'd look like if he bleached it. Or dyed it green. Or purple. Or better yet, rainbow. Yeah, rainbow. That'd really get a chick's attention!

Brock dropped everything he was doing that day and rushed to the local hair salon. His tiny eyes would have to wait- his hair was one problem that needed to be taken care of right away.

"Can I help you?" offered the receptionist, twirling a pen in her perfectly-manicured fingers.

   "I need… a new look," said Brock

"Ooh a challenge!" The receptionist glanced down at her appointment book. "I think we can squeeze you in… with… Trace, are you free?"

Tracey looked up from a hair magazine. "Sure."

He led Brock to a comfortable pleather chair and draped smock around him.

Tracey clicked his tongue. "Brocky baby, you haven't changed a bit since we met in the Orange Islands."

Brock realized that his hair-stylist was no other than the boy who had joined Ash Ketchum on his Pokemon journey a few years before.

"Same hairstyle…" Tracey continued, putting his hands on his hips. "Well Brock, what can I do for you today?"

"I'm not quite sure."

"Well, we can start with a trim," said Tracey observing Brock's damaged, split ends.

"I was thinking," said Brock as Tracey hacked away at his spiky white-boy dreadlocks, "maybe a different color for every strand of hair. Like a rainbow."

"I don't have time for that," said Tracey, holding up a nasty, especially chunky piece of Brock's hair. "I have to meet Joy in an hour. Brock, what shampoo are you using? You have such lovely, thick hair… if you'd wash it every so often."

"Herbal Ess- Did you just say Joy? As in Nurse Joy?"

"Uh-huh."

"Are you and Nurse Joy… dating?"

Tracey laughed. "Oh, Lord! Joy and me? No, no… I have a boyfriend!"

"Oh," Brock shifted in his chair uncomfortably. "Tracey's a homo!" he realized.

"You drive me craaazy!" wailed the radio.

"Ugh, Britney. I hate her, don't you? Firmest buns I've ever seen though." Tracey said thoughtfully. He waved a hand at the receptionist. "Juanita, change the station!"

He turned back to his client.

"Brock, from now on I want you to use this special conditioner..." he tossed Brock a bottle. "Once a day. Rinse and repeat." He paused. "Officer Jenny uses that same conditioner," he realized.

"Are you friends with Officer Jenny, too?"

"Uh-huh. Great girl. Could use some highlights though."

Tracey's so queer, but Jenny and Joy like him better than me. Maybe if I was more like him, they'd like me too. It was then, as Tracey rubbed mousse through his hair, that a completely brilliant plan hit Brock.

"Tracey, I have to go!"

"But I thought you wanted a new 'do! We're just getting started!"

Brock threw off his smock and rushed out the door.

"Don't forget to condition!" Tracey called after him.

- - - - - -

Author's Note: I love reviews and constructive criticism. If you review my story, I'll make sure to read and review something of yours.