RANDOM MISADVENTURES IN THE POKÉMON WORLD

Written by BansheeGirl

Disclaimer: None of the characters in this story belong to me. I will in this fanfic make several references to other books/movies/songs etc., which also are not my property. I am not making any money out of this! I write merely for your enjoyment!

A/N: Hey! Back again! And this time with something quite different for BansheeGirl… a fanfic written purely as a humorous piece! I really love well-written Pokémon humour fics, so I thought I'd attempt to write my own! Stay tuned for more chappies, more of your favourite characters and more of my insane loopiness!

Once again it is another beautiful morning in the wondrous and all-exciting land that most (if not all) people in Pokémon Land refer to as 'Johto'. Yes - the golden rays of the sun beat down on the green, luscious grass, bathing the vibrant coloured flowers in their iridescent warmth. The solar light reflects on the cool, crystal water that determinedly pushes through a riverbed while various Pokémon stop to quench their thirst at the waterhole. A light breeze rustles the leaves of the trees, creating a breathtaking symphony conducted by Mother Nature herself.

And once again we find a group of three friends camped in a small forest not-so-far-away from the afore-mentioned waterhole, preparing themselves for yet another day on their Pokémon quest…

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" Came the cry from a dark-skinned and rather squinty-eyed teenager. His voice rang through the camping trio's surroundings, sending Pidgeys flying maniacally from their tree-perches, Rattata's sprinting frantically in all directions and otherwise disrupting Mother Nature's breathtaking symphony. "Ash, what have you done?!"

Ash unknowingly looked up at his older friend, Brock, who was clutching his own head with both hands as if in a great deal of pain. "What's wrong, Brock?" Ash's heart began to beat faster, dreading the horrendous revelation that Brock was sure to announce.

Brock repeatedly opened and closed his mouth and stuttered uncontrollably, unable to form any words in the utter disgust he felt for what Ash had just done. Still incapable of constructing a meaningful sentence, he raised a shaking hand and pointed to the half-full plastic bread bag that Ash had just placed down by the rest of the breakfast paraphernalia.

Ash glanced down at the bag. He frowned, forcing the cogs within his tiny mind to turn in order to understand what sort of message Brock was attempting to convey.

Finally Brock snapped somewhat out of his shocked state and stormed over to stand in front of Ash. Ash gulped as he looked up to see Brock's nostrils flare to an inconceivable size.

Without moving his eyes from Ash's, Brock bent down and picked up the bread bag. "How could you do this Ash? Did you think that you'd just be able to get away with it?"

"Um, Brock? I'm not sure I understand what you mean…"

"LOOK AT THIS!" Brock cried, pointing to the bag half-full with bread. In particular, his erect index finger indicated the section of the bag that was not currently containing bread. The thin plastic was slowly springing out from a tight twist that Ash had created in the top of the bag only minutes before.

"Did you think that you could just twist the top of the bag and then shove it underneath the weight of the remaining bread? Did you think that that would satisfy the requirements of necessary food-storage and handling technique?" Brock screamed into Ash's face, who was currently attempting to shrink away from his rabid friend.

"I-I'm sorry Brock, I didn't mean to upset-"

"-QUIET!"

Brock bent back down to pick something small up off of the ground. He held a little piece of hard, white plastic in front of Ash, and continued to speak, "This, Ash, is the tag that you are supposed to secure around the top of the common bread bag." Ash watched as Brock spun the bread bag around while holding the top, and then as he fastened the plastic tag around the twist in a location just above the first accessible slice of bread within.

"See, it's easy," Brock said in a menacing tone, "But it seems that your puny mind cannot comprehend such a simple yet oh-so essential task."

Ash's face contorted into an expression of disbelief. "Brock, it's just the bread. You don't have to get so worked up over it."

If Brock's eyes could have widened in fury, well… they would have.

As he opened his mouth to begin yet another rant on the importance of proper food storage, Misty emerged from her tent, lifting her arms into the air to stretch her muscles after a long night's rest. "What's all the fuss about out here?" Both boys turned to look at her as she queried in a whiny tone. At the sound of an even whinier noise somewhere about her feet, the girl bent down to pick up the ugly and ever-so-annoying Pokémon called Togepi.

"Well? What's going on?" Misty pressed the question as she walked over to the campfire beside Brock and Ash.

Brock only glared at Ash, before spinning on his heel to resume his knitting on a tree-stump a few metres away.

"Never mind," Ash finally answered, sitting back down on the ground to toast his bread on the campfire as he had been about to do before being so disturbingly interrupted.

Misty too sat down beside the campfire, placing the ugly egg-beast in her lap before spooning porridge into a metal camping bowl from a pot hanging over the fire.

"Hey Misty, we're leaving straight after breakfast so you might want to fix up your hair before we leave," said Ash, taking a zealous bite of his crisped toast.

Misty froze, her spoon paused in mid-air and her mouth hanging open in previous anticipation of the warm porridge. Her eyes narrowed and she spoke with malice, "What do you mean fix up my hair?! I have already styled it this morning!"

Ash blinked in surprise. "But you've got spikes poking out everywhere and your ponytail isn't even straight. Didn't you look in the mirror? It's like, hanging off the side of your head."

Misty shut her eyes in frustration, her body shaking with pending anger. "THIS IS HOW I WEAR IT EVERYDAY YOU FOOL!"

A sweat drop ran down the side of Ash's face, and he smiled stupidly in a pathetic attempt to somehow remind her that she was secretly in love with him.

It did not work.

Half an hour later Ash was still rubbing his head from the several bashings he had received from Misty. The trio had, however, packed up all their belongings and were ready to continue on their journey. Each shouldered their packs and had only just begun walking along a gravel road that had miraculously appeared beside the camp when Ash suddenly cried out, clutching his elbow.

Brock and Misty instantly turned to look at their friend, each seeming to have forgotten their previous arguments experienced with Ash earlier that morning.

"Ash, what's wrong?" Misty asked worriedly. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and watched as his face scrunched up hideously, signifying his obvious agony.

"It's… it's my scar," Ash finally managed to say. He turned his elbow over to reveal an odd-shaped and quite faded scar.

Brock and Misty's faces fell. "No… not the scar…" Brock murmured in a frightened tone.

All remained silent for a few minutes. "Uh, Ash?" Misty finally spoke, "What exactly does the scar mean again?" Brock looked intently to Ash, signalling he too had apparently temporarily forgotten.

A far-off look appeared in Ash's eyes and his voice took on a philosophical tone. "Well, it all happened when I was a very young child, perhaps not even three years old. I don't remember it myself, but my mother tells me that I was riding my bike and I…" Ash's eyes clouded over as if the recollection was quite a tender one for him, "I was riding my bike and I… I fell off of it." His voice trailed off as Brock and Misty gazed upon Ash, clearly taken by the heartbreaking story.

Ash shook his head to recollect his thoughts. "And so I now carry this scar; the peculiar lighting-bolt shape a continual reminder that that accident happened as an important part of destiny."

Brock frowned. "A lightning bolt? It looks more like a broken twig to me."

"No way! It looks like a tattoo gone wrong or something. Like, it was supposed to be a particular letter of the alphabet but the tattooist slipped," Misty argued, peering at the mark on Ash's elbow.

"You know from a distance, it doesn't even look like a scar. It just looks as though you haven't washed properly and still have dirt on you arm," Brock continued, engrossed in his analysis of the true form that Ash's scar took.

Finally Ash snatched his elbow away. "Look, it's a lightning bolt okay?! And right now it's hurting, so that means…"

Misty and Brock grudgingly stopped examining the disfigurement on Ash's arm. Misty listened to Ash's words carefully. "So that means… what? What does it mean, Ash?"

Ash's face took on a serious expression. "It means… that Those Who Must Not Be Named are close by," he explained in a grave voice.

Misty and Brock both cried in dismay. The three Pokémon trainers huddled in the middle of the road, terrified this by ominous occurrence.

"Wait…" Misty started, her petrified expression changing, "Since when were we not allowed to call Team Rocket by name?"

Brock and Ash exchanged glances of realisation.

"Oh yeah, you're right," said Ash, his casual nature returning.

"We may as well stick around then," said Brock, "We can let Team Rocket catch up now and get it out of the way for the day, I suppose."

He took his knitting out of his backpack and settled himself on the ground.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Mwahahahahahaha!

Ahem. Yes. Well, I hope you like! Please let me know what you think by reviewing. Any sort of feedback would be muchly appreciated!

Till Next Time,

BansheeGirl.