Disclaimer: Nope, don't own it.

Chapter 6

Of the Betrayal of the Ring and the Twisted Mind of Grovel

Now, in the previous chapter, we ran into a nasty little affliction known as 'Grovel'. As much as it would please us to take the lead of the rest of the Fellows-err-Poke-troopers, and just dismiss him as a passing mentally challenged duck, we will find this task incredibly impossible. Obviously because I am now about to launch into an entire chapter about the stupid little bas-ket. Basket. Yes. Basket…The basket case with the Ring.

Right…where were we? Oh yes. Grovel.

Grovel was once a nice (or not-so-nice) little man who went by the name of Sephen. Remember him? If you don't, let's backtrack a bit:

"The sequence of events went something like this:

Charizards trampled the Free Peoples.

Pikachu shocked the Dragonair.

Golem and Sal-Mon played poker.

Degenerate prisoner-of-war; a trainer by the name of Sephen, brought before Sal-Mon.

Sal-Mon laughed in his face and tried to use the Ring to turn him into a shoe.

Sal-Mon dropped the ring.

Sephen grabbed the ring.

Sal-Mon was assaulted from behind by a previously unnoticed elf (security was fired afterwards).

Sephen chucked a pokeball at Sal-Mon.

Sal-Mon was sucked into the confines of the six-inch sphere, and remains there to this very day."

So, now that that's all cleared up, let's move on.

Sephen was a rather ordinary pokemon trainer. He went by the alias 'Mr Fuji', and spent his days in Lavender Town, pretending to tend to the dead souls of pokemon while in fact engaging in the typical, honest trade of Magikarp smuggling. He had no friends (well, living anyway), and tended to lisp, particularly when saying the word 'precious'; a trait which he proudly flaunted to anyone unfortunate enough to ask. He was confusing, erratic, and, as far as people were concerned, completely irrelevant to the proper functioning of society. In fact, the only reason he got involved in the war was because he took a wrong turn on his way to a local PokeMart, and got stuck to the hoof of a particularly careless Rapidash. In either case, he unfortunately got the Ring, and remained its keeper for a good hundred or so years, bringing jewelry-obsession to an entirely new level.

Anyhow, the Nine Nosegrill had captured the slimy creature using a carefully constructed trap consisting of pickled Magikarps and gum wrappers, and bore him away on their steeds of doom to their very, very secret hideaway.

"Are you sure you guys are registered professors?" Oak asked, eying the giant Jigglypuffs with distaste, "I've never heard of anyone being allowed to illegally mutate pokemon before…"

"That's obviously because you haven't reported yourself yet," The head Nosegrill snapped, marching into the lab and dragging Grovel along by the ear.

"Preciousssss!! Preeeciousssssss!!!" Grovel whimpered, as the Nosegrill strapped him to a chair and flicked on an overly large TV screen. "Precious?" He stared in horror as the screen began to display some of the corniest moments in Ash's pokemon history, including the part where he bravely threw himself in front of Mewtwo's fatal psychic assault and died, only to be revived a few moments later by the heartfelt tears of all the pokemon which had suddenly grown mortally attached to him. "PRECIOUSSS!!!!!" He screamed and began struggling, "PRECIOUS PRECIOUS PRECIOUS!!!!!"

The Nosegrill laughed in nauseating symphony, reveling in their leader's cruel and unusual means of torture. "Speak, filth!" One of them said sharply, "Tell us where the Ring is!"

Grovel cried and shook his head. "Precious precious precioussss…" He blubbered. The Nosegrill only snickered louder.

"We shall see how long you last,"

Obviously, it wasn't very long. Just as Ash knelt on the ground, hugging his faithful companion Pikachu with tears of gratitude and respect gracing his delicate eyes, Grovel cracked.

"PRECIOUSSS!!!! Precious precious prrreeeecioussss….."

The head Nosegrill paused in the middle of dabbing his eyes, and the others quickly stashed away boxes of Kleenex, coughing in embarrassment. "Say what? Oh, right…" He blew his nose and approached the blubbering mass. "Where is the Ring?"

Grovel reached into a mouldy pocket and extracted a small golden circlet, though the shine was thoroughly tainted by the vast layers of muck surrounding it. The head Nosegrill took a step back, utterly revolted. "That's disgusting!"

"Precious precious…"

"We've been living as undead servants of the Evil too, and our stuff isn't that repulsive!"

The other Nosegrill nodded in agreement, taking into account their newly-shined Blades of Utter Death, and their sparkly Gauntlets of Scariness. Grovel scowled heavily.

"Precious precious precious….preeeciousssss…" He threatened, waving the Ring around.

"All right! All right!" The Nosegrill growled, "Don't go all Elfish on us…we'll take it,"

"Precious?" Grovel asked curiously, handing over the Ring. The head Nosegrill quickly extracted a can of decontaminant and sprayed it thoroughly.

"Why Elfish?" He said, now scrubbing it with a toilet brush, "Haven't you ever seen Agatha when she's in a mood?"

Grovel watched in silence, feeling that it did make some kind of sense. Another Nosegrill, this one with pretty pink decorative sequins adorning his tattered black cloak, released him from the chair.

"Thank you for being interrogated by the Nine Servants of Sal-Mon," He said, handing Grovel a lollipop, "here's your complementary sweet. Don't forget to fill out the questionnaire on your way out! Remember, the more you suggest, the more effectively we can torture you! Have a nice day,"

And with that Grovel found himself pushed out of the door, as the lead Nosegrill got out a flask of concentrated sulphuric acid and a buffing machine. Blinking in the sudden sunlight, Grovel mourned the loss of his precious Precious.

"Precious…."

He brushed away a small tear. Oh well, at least he had one small consolation prize. He grinned wickedly as he remembered the (rather forced) eagerness with which the Nosegrill had accepted his Ring. How nice of him…he hadn't even realized that formless wraiths were into slick and slimy. Whistling happily to himself, he skipped off into the trees, waiting for a chance to catch up with his proposed fiancée yet again. After a Magikarp or two, of course.

~End fic~

Haha! I told you he has a twisted mind! XD

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