My Fire-Psycho Type Chapter 5, a pokémon fanfic

Page 5, Day 17: Feeding

Nurse Joy wrote: 'A diet of carbon, vitamin A, and Omega 3s will boost the brain and strengthen the fur.' I fed Trashy minced lab-meats, vegetables, and graphite. Yesterday, I noticed faint wisps of vapor creep from under her red dress. Sure, I've read about her occasional hallucinations, and she's in heat, but Trashy isn't adding up to her diagnosis. The bitterant stains on my chairs and the clawed-up lines on my rugs, those came from a maniac. But the cratered drywall from her wobbly walking? The nightmare over my alarm clock? And not a jolt-up-and-scream kind of nightmare, but the kind with tears and passing out? I don't think being sad does that.

Three days ago I purchased a newspaper on my way back from getting an album featuring sooth bells. I sunk into my sofa, and Trashy sprawled sideways with her limbs all wide on the cushion next by me. She checked out a vent on the ceiling until I called her. I pointed to an article titled 'SUDOKU-MAIN!' on the paper.

Enough with that Rosa, she is dust! That era is entirely irrelevant!

"Are you interested in attending a sudoku tournament?"

``Is she there!?``

"Who?"

"There's always rats in the vents—Where is she at?"

"Trashy?"

Ditch your past! Seize the control evolution gave you!

``Rats, always rats, even in some golden-glove's club!``

She clawed at her forehead frantically. Nothing I did to console her helped and there wasn't much I could do either. So, I'm going to make another call.

On a side note, Trashy's fur is a third as grown as that of a normal Delphox, though a tad patchy. A couple days back I made the tufts in her ears into big loops supported by metal wire. That kept her from hiding things in there, and it took attention away from the fact her skirt barely covered her booty.

I sat up in the beanbag, rubbing my eyes. Somehow an icy draft woke me up despite the heater being on. For a moment I thought about the closet. Plenty of blankets laid folded in there, but I needed to get up first, and we all know how that is. I looked forward instead. Trashy laid around in a pile of cardboard she created by the right side of my bed. She started mouthing 'breky' at me. Today I wanted do make something different. Soon enough, I covered my kitchen counter in wax paper and topped it with a huge helping of fresh dough. I cupped my hands and whispered.

"Trashy, Trashy, breky, breky!"

Poof. She looked droopy and tired. Trashy snapped and instantly put on my kitchen gloves. As she magically prodded the dough, the Delphox stared out the kitchen window. I leaned over, only seeing a triangle of lights reflecting off the windowpane. Her eyes, they glowed like fire again. She did this glowing a lot now.

I hoped she'd reason that since I didn't see anything, there was nothing, but I was always the wrong one in this relationship. She pulled oven door down, shimmied on the top rack, and telepathically shut the door. I wrapped both my hands around the oven handle and tugged, but a team of Machamp wouldn't be able to open it up.

``When am I going to kill you?``

"Get out of the oven!"

Trashy instantly removed her invisible clasp on the over, crept out, and went to sit in a corner with melted gloves and a burnt apron. The next step was to wash the dough in the baking soda, salt it, and shove it in the oven. And the baking soda, I splashed it on.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

Breakfast. Ramekins of cheddar cheese and plates steaming pretzels rested on the dining table. Trashy's fur shined like polished metal under the cool blue of the chandelier. She literally laid in wait for me on top of the table. I waded through boxes and packaging on my way to her, pulling up a thick wood chair with teeth marks on it.

"You're acting funky. What's with you?"

The Delphox cackled, coughed, then melted down onto the chair two spaces to my left. Her voice cleared up as she simmered down, giving the impression of a hag who needed to clear her throat.

``I get it. The little things add up and that's why yer on edge. Calming place, calming, times. I'm just moving with the ocean.``

"Where's the ocean taking you?"

She looked at me, curling her corner of her lips down. ``I don't know. Can't see that far. I only get five seconds these days.``

I felt myself frown too. She took the voice of a monotone movie narrator. `` makes and takes the recipe—his phox sees all atop her padded throne. Her supernatural gaze pierces walls and minds. No man, no thing, can stop her.`` She beamed the image of me ordering a few stenographers over for the subtitles.

" 'Makes and takes the recipe.' "

I had reservations and made them clear with my expression. She loved to 'make' me do this and 'take' some of that. Her behavior is so shifty I'd never allow her a twig, let alone drink some random potion or-

``You think I can't get a stick outside, boy?! You'll be wishin I were so nice soon!``

I hate when she calls me that. "Keep instigating."

The pricks. I forgot to mention them. In the past three days I've felt thousands of little pins tapping me on occasion. She scratched her arms at the same time as me, then partook in the pretzels. She brashly dipped her first one and rammed it down her throat. The next one she thoughtfully dunked, savoring it.

``I love it. Everything. The fluff the salt, the fact I even has it goods enough. Thank you``

"We need food and medication. That's going to involve 'humies' other than me." I frowned a bit. The pins bothered me more than I thought.

``Hey, I was tryin' ta be nice.``

I motioned to the stains on my walls, peeling wallpaper, the shreds my curtains had been rendered to. "You were?"

``I aint heartless, Dante.``

"Don't lie."

Trashy tucked her bottom lip under her fangs. All three of her eyes shined like flashlights.

``I'll admit it is hard for me to give a shit about you, especially when you 'keep instigating'. See the light in my eyes? I'm resisting the part of me that is begging to reach out and hang you.``

I stuffed my head in my hands. "This week's been killing me." I felt her claws prying at my arm, trying to get me out.

``When things start dropping off, ya feel tired and give up. Look, you can surf this wave, I'll be yer lifeguard!``

"Would you snap me out of there?"

``I'd get ya coffee.``

…

At 9:24am, I drove. The snowfall from the previous night still fogged the sky with a shifty grey. The sign to this Pokemart always flashed like a spirit in the mist. I tugged on Trashy's ear fluff, waking her up with a snort. She leaned harder against the passenger side window, still groggy and dazed.

"There is a fire-type's wet dream in there. You ready?"

``No! Stop asking that, can't you hear her smack talk?``

"Even if there were people talking shit, you're a mean ol' mother'. You'd do something about it."

She nervously rocked in her seat. ``My favorite color is black. It's a good color that I've liked a long while.``

"Are you ready or not?"

`` 'Her supernatural gaze pierces walls and minds. No man, no thing can stop her.' ``

When I reached out to her shoulder, she shrunk up. ``Can't you smell my stress!?``

"Smell! Thank god you mentioned it!" My back pressed into the seat. I just sat and thought. "There aint shit we can do. Let's go."

``Wait! What are you planning?!``

"I was thinking, if you close your eyes and repeat something, maybe you'll be too distracted to be crazy?" She twisted her head for the voice. The darting eyes, Trashy was getting overwhelmed. "Are you getting hallucinations you can't manage?" She didn't seem to hear me, but when I was about to repeat myself, she did answer.

``They're episodic.``

"Are you ready then?"

``They are episodic.``

The van's suspension sprung out a few pounds lighter as I came out of the van, slamming the door with a hollow 'thunk'. I pulled Trashy out since her episode had mostly ended. My nose clogged with the smell of her 'perfume' on my clothes. She wore a coat and some jeans that no longer fit me. Her clothes looked awkward and were getting scratched apart by the second.

Why have you thrown yourself to the lions, mother?! Haven't you learned anything from what she did to you?!

Very-little-if-experience-is-to-go-by.

Half of the planet only thieves, murders, rapes. I could go on!

Trashy mumbled something harsh.

"If you need to go in the van, do it."

You're a child, Fennyl! You ride in a white carriage with some hoodlum! Wake up!

She closed her eyes. Taking a deep breath, I slipped her hot paw into my hand and lead her to the store. It was amazing to see fellow lifeforms for a change. They gawked at the newest gadgets behind big crystal windows on the front. Each rested on fine red velvet pillows and shined to high heaven. Golden price tags gleamed through the fogged glass. One of the products behind the thick glass was a scratch-proof coat!

"Two-thousand one hundred seventeen with tax! Let's go inside."

Except a nineteen-year-old man walked up to my side. The scientist wore a lab coat and a yellow hard hat. His name was 'Doth' according to the name tag. But my attention wasn't on him. It was the beautiful pokemon by him that made my day.

"Good day sir," Doth said. "I was provided this Ninetales so that I may study his ability to psychologically manipulate fire. Meet Miko, he's friendly!"

The Ninetales also wore a hardhat on his head and a 'Miko!' name tag on his collar. Oh did his fur gleam! It was champagne and straighter than ruler! Miko emulated a model pokemon right down to how much I could ruffle his silky hair without so much as a peep from him! Eventually I had to readdress the youngster. His nose kept twitching. He had his theories about us. However, looking like you live out a box has its advantages.

"Hello Doth and Miko." I placed my hand on Trashy's shoulder. She lifted her teeth from her zipper and kindly bit it. "T-This Delphox is a temporary rescue! Let's go inside, she's made of fire but can get real cold sometimes." I put her in the ball. Too dangerous for her to go inside.

In the store, dozens of rubber soles squeaked on a brilliant mural of the world's pokemon. A group of girls and their Eevee chatted by the normal types section. A breeder picked out 'The Perfect IV' in the poke-literature section. When a line of Durant carried fresh evolution stones to the backroom, I took in just how long having over 18 sections made the place. The Fire-type section was 85 degrees. It had troves of fire-proof beds, toys, clothes, and merchandise peppered the orange and red themed shelves. I eyed some muzzles while Doth lined his pockets with candles. Miko created a wide no-go zone by fanning his tails.

"So how does your Ninetales normally move fire around, Doth?" I turned around. Miko bit at the pocket where I kept the pokeball. Trashy popped out of it and the foxes started shouting at each other. I recalled Trashy again and kept her ball in my hand. My new human friend had a smile on his mouth and an apology in his eyes.

"Sorry, he is a great boy usually! Now, Miko, like every Ninetales, makes fire in the fire sack of his stomach. However, he does not have the structures in his brain that a psychic-type pokemon does. A fire-breathing-psychic is THE ideal control for my quest! Part of my assignment was to find one and now that's done!"

"Can Miko burp fire?"

Doth lost some of his spirit.

"Yes, he burps fire. Pokenip weakens him, too. But he's still Miko, hard-headed and prideful. No fire comes unless you pamper him."

She-did-it-before-!-Perhaps-you-could-be-the-lucky-trainer!

The-one-with-a-million-dollar-pokemon!

You are sick, mother! Sick and incurable! He is going to speak to you through that ball. Be sure to thank him for my ability to be here. Be thankful that I even exist!

``I've finally found you. Fickle as ever. The last time I had cast eyes on our daughter was 1932. A mere team of huntsman managed to bring her to the Grand Canyon and kicked her to a terrifying death! Had you gotten over yourself and helped me, she would have perhaps lived, and reversed your curse.``

See what you've done? We both know you lack the confidence to tell that pet human anything personal! You fear being manipulated! Yet you let him drag you around like a bag of dirt. You deserved what happened to you, Fennyl. Fully.

``That area is suspicious.``

``Excuses! Every state we visit seems so. When our child came about, the forest around us was fire and smoke. You had given me hope with her, Fennyl. The next time we meet you will suffer.``

Some looking later I had a hexagonal stick of charcoal and containers of pyrotechnic powders jutting out my pockets. Doth picked up a paw printed bed, planted it one Miko's back, and marked the last check on his list.

"At some point I would like your Delphox to help Miko on his journey!"

Doth presented his ID to me. I thought only vehicles could be exempt. "Be prepared to reschedule. There are no guarantees with this Delphox." Doth nodded and silently left with his Ninetales. I waved them bye and pet Miko in my mind.

Back to my sluggish life with my hands sliding down my face. I yawned, swiped some anti-corrosion spray for the van and jogged to the travel section to energize myself. There were beautifully decorated sprays, escape ropes, and other trainer items. Near the fancier section of the aisle, pokeballs reflected neat rows of white lights in their display box, ranging from $10 to $1999 on the silver price cards.

Out of curiosity, I held the old premier ball next to the one in the display case. There was no travel size option on the old one and I felt the increased weight. One had a fresh click that wouldn't work until you purchased it, the other had a limp spring. Finally, the new one sported a platinum paint job and a deep shiny red. The older one lost its lustre long ago. Let's see about that price tag...

'POKEBALL BY SILPH CO. PB-S117243($799)'

Thank goodness for coupons. Seeing how closely I examined the pokeballs, a metrosexual went to help me. At least he looked the part. Slick clothes, slick hair, slick cologne, he reminded me of one. Anyways, he was the pokeball specialist as indicated by his badge. The worker looked me over. I almost said, 'take a photo,' then I thought about how I must look to him.

"Excuse me sir, do you need help with any of the pokeball's today?"

I planted the worn ball into the employee's hand. "Can you tell me when this was made?"

Good to know I wasn't the only one who thought it was ridiculous.

"Where did you find it?"

"I didn't. My rescue came with the ball."

The clerk sprung open the pokeball and typed a long string of numbers on a PDA. "What you said reminds me of a bad break up."

The employee tapped at some of the options on his device, then reported back. "The ID number in the shell dates this Pokeball to 1816. It also tells me that this a 'starter' pokeball: your rescue was put in it shortly after she was born. Long ago, a professor in a particularly rich area would have given this out. But, the dampeners inside are rotted. Even a pokemon who wanted to stay inside could fall out."

"Two hundred three years and I can still figure out where it came from. That's amazing."

"It is! But you should really replace it soon..."

My hand fumbled in my pocket as I tried to grab my wallet. "Yeah yeah. What's the process for this stuff again?"

"Your rescue is still 'owned' by the old chip you have. Because it's from Devon and we sell Silph Co products, you must transfer ownership to a new chip."

"Fine. I'll buy a premier ball."

"Being red, I believe a cherish ball is a better gift for today."

I peered at that Valentines-day red ball for a while. It had the same specs as a premier ball. Also loaded with tech hundreds of years in the future! Same price: only $79 with all my coupons!

"I wholly agree. I want a premier ball anyway."

…

The van buckled and creaked from all the bumps on the highway despite my low speed. Trashy melted into the passenger door. She didn't move or say anything. I turned on the heater to help and she flinched at that. My fingers pressed into the steering wheel.

"I'm going to wait until a couple months blow over."

``Fur won't grow.``

"I'm not the right person to take care of you."

She gazed at me from the corner of her eye. ``Well, we live in a fine world now. The box can keep each other safe. Just make one little promise: ya don't let me be the end of you, ok?``

"Sure."

…

Two hours later, I pushed the freezing handle for the door of a local pharmacy. Again, there were aisles, but many less and much shorter than the previous store's. Some big red letters spelt out 'PokePharmacy' above a counter on the left wall. The wide desk was empty, so I tapped the top of a silver bell. Nurse Joy's little sister, by three seconds, twirled into view. Her Comfey unenthusiastically floated in behind her. The two occasionally helped me when an actor got pokerus, but today was a different story.

"What would you like today?"

It's a long ol' list, that medication. She listened to my answer while using my new pokeball's data thingy to pull up a profile on her computer. Then she stopped. Something fishy appeared on her screen. She went to the shelves behind her and plucked out four white bottles, laying them in a bag on the counter.

"I need 5, the last is a sheet of medication."

"My sister needs to approve the fifth one." This day just kept getting more fun.

Ring Ring Ring! Phone Call, Phone Call!

That other nurse picked up her landline phone. There was some loud chaos in the background.

"Hello nurse," I said. "I'm at the pharmacy to refill the medication."

"I forgot something earlier," she pleaded. "Since it's that time of year," that 'special time' started back in January, but I'd write a novel trying to list all the things she got wrong. "You might notice some behaviors become exaggerated."

"Can I give Fennyl hormonal pills?"

"No! No! Though I wouldn't want…"

"Nurse,"

"Their medication is extremely sensitive! You need to follow it with discipline to for it to work properly! Commit and you won't turn into another wise tale!"

I grumbled. "Well, back to why I called you. The dieting pills in the sheet? I need your permission for them."

"Uhhh…promise me you won't freak out?"

"Freak out?!"

A sigh rippled across the speaker.

"Remember when you emailed me about their behaviour?"

"Yes?"

"What you noticed is because they suffer from schizophrenia."