Meh, too lazy to type author's notes now. Maybe later. I don't own anyone or anything used in the chapter, except the cameraman.
Poor little Pichu was stretching his undersized arms and pushing himself in a wheelchair. Apparently the burn from Mewtwo's Fire Flower hadn't healed yet, and that mixed with running back and forth to deliver notes really wore him out.
Then a UFO glided above Pichu. His beady black eyes followed the UFO as it slowly moved. He was a little nervous about what would happen next, but too weak to move and too stupid to call for help. So a lime green ray of light shot down on Pichu and he was abducted by…goodness knows whatever is inside.
"Pi pic pichu!" he chirped helplessly.
"Wahahahahahah!" laughed a demented alien, who was marine blue and dressed in a maroon spandex suit. "Wahaha-" Apparently he wasn't experienced with the whole evil laugh thing, so the other alien shook his head, almost embarrassed for him.
"Now, we have finally found the perfect meal!" cried the lavender alien in an orange spandex suit triumphantly. He stood on a chair and attempted to dance. Pichu rolled his eyes.
"I'll fry him!" offered the blue alien. "I have just the right materials: a frying pan, no-stick spray, a spatula, salt for flavoring, and cotton candy perfume from a department store."
"How will the perfume help us?"
"I dunno. But it smells real nice!" The alien gently shook the bottle and sprayed a ton in the other's face. He coughed from the fumes and waved his hand to make them go away.
"Stop fooling around!" he snapped. "We must start to cook this little yellow dumpling." The aliens stared at the ceiling dreamily, imagining being at a table with a plateful of fried rodent.
Both remembered that the fantasy was about to become a reality…until they finally noticed Pichu went missing.
"Where did that little rat go!" snapped the lavender alien.
"Don't look at me!" the blue one replied.
Both searched frantically for the electric rat, but gave up and thought he was gone after two and a half seconds of looking. The only thing they knew was that Pichu had left his wheelchair on the UFO.
Meanwhile, in the air, Pichu was his tail to skydive. Considering the size of his tail, that didn't go very well. Pichu ended up jumping out of the UFO, attempting to use his miniature tail as a parachute, then falling helplessly to the ground, wailing for help. Too bad he didn't speak English.
Pichu crashed through the roof of Taco Bell.
He stood up and rubbed a sore spot on his head where he had landed. The neon signs near the register near known as the menu caught Pichu's eye. He eagerly dashed to the register, pushing through other people's legs as they either shrieked out of surprise or laughed because his pointy tail tickled. The electric rat leaped as high as he could through the air and ended up grabbing the edge of the counter with only a finger. He grunted, then pulled himself up. He flashed a cute smile to the employee.
"What do you want?" sneered the teenage employee, not affected by Pichu's cuteness.
Pichu eyed the menu and noticed some kind of bean burrito. "Pichu pichu pi!"
The teenager blinked. "Come again?"
"Pichu pichu pi!" Pichu repeated, trying to say it more clearly and slowly.
The teenage put a finger in her ear and dug around, as if trying to get a ball of wax out. "I don't get it…"
"PICHU PICHU PI!" screeched Pichu.
Suddenly every window in the building cracked, causing the glass to divide into diminutive glistening shards, falling both outside and onto the greasy tile floor.
The shocked customers immediately evacuated the building, hopped into their cars, and drove away quickly. The manager took baby steps to avoid pieces of glass. He crossed his arms over his chest and gave Pichu a harsh glare.
"You…you…you…" stuttered the manager, pointing a hefty index finger.
"I'll finish this," offered the employee. She grabbed a broom from the back closet, swung it a few times, and then eventually whacked Pichu out of the building.
"PICHU!"
"So, circumference equals pi times the diameter," read the cameraman aloud out of a math book. "Pie! I love pie! So I guess I take a pie, measure the diameter, then multiply to get the circumferthingy! It's perfect!"
The announcer sighed at his worker's stupidity.
"Cameraman, did you go to school?"
"Yes, but it doesn't mean I paid attention."
"Then how on Earth did you pass?"
"I either bribed my teacher with chocolate, or hacked into the computers when no one was watching and changed my F---s to As," admitted the cameraman with a pleased smile.
"But F---s aren't even real grades."
"I was dumb enough to earn them!"
"And you're proud?" inquired the announcer, partially wondering why he was surprised.
"Yep. I got –78.4 on a science test once."
Pichu flew into the studio, landing safely somehow on the chair on the stage.
"Thank goodness, a vic-I mean, guest. Welcome. I was worried talking anymore to the cameraman would make me catch his stupidity. The kind he has appears to be a rabid disease rather just an ordinary bad quality."
"But it's another Pokemon. Fortunately, I have a translator." The cameraman dug around in his left pocket on his pants and pulled out an old pair of movie tickets, a cotton ball, and a rotten banana peel. He tossed all of that aside and finally pulled out a sleek square device. He pressed the tiny on button, then signaling for the announcer to start.
"Know your smashers, know your smashers, know your smashers, know your smashers…"
Pichu blinked and sneezed.
"Aw, how cute!" gushed the cameraman in a sickeningly sweet voiced.
"Just be quiet! Pichu…he is made out of banana pudding."
"No I'm not! I'm just like any other Pichu, except cuter!" The Pokemon smiled cheekily and the cameraman squealed like one of Marth's fangirls.
"Sure, and I'm Homer Simpson."
"Really? Can I have your autograph?" asked Pichu innocently.
"Is sarcasm a foreign language to you?"
"I don't know, is it?" Pichu's ear wiggled, as if it were showing his curiosity.
The announcer sighed heavily. "Pichu…he almost killed himself while trying to plug in a Gamecube."
"No, I almost killed myself while trying to cut pizza. Stupid Ness walked into me and knocked it out of my hands, onto the floor. That pizza cutter could have sliced my tail off!"
"Are you sure it would have killed you?" wondered the cameraman.
"No. I like pancakes!" Pichu waved his arms enthusiastically, like he had just guzzled a giant bag of sugar.
"Waffles are better!" scoffed the cameraman, then sticking out his tongue.
"Pancakes!"
"Waffles!"
"Pancakes!"
"Waffles!"
"Alright already!" screamed the announcer. "No one cares about mere breakfast items."
"But it's the most important meal of the day!" whined the cameraman.
"I don't care. What I do care about it insulting our guest. You should care about keeping your job. Pichu…he chews on plungers at Thanksgiving."
"That's Dr. Mario."
Luckily Dr. Mario was too busy chewing on a new plunger in a cramped bathroom to have heard that. Otherwise, he would have come down to object to it.
"Pichu…he has become addicted to shocking himself," the announcer declared.
"No I haven't!"
"Then why are you still a smasher?"
"They pay me with bean burritos, and Jell-O cups. LOTS of 'em." A drop of saliva rolled down his cheek as he imagined the steaming hot burritos, following by a cherry Jell-O cup with a huge glob of whipped cream.
"Yum," the cameraman commented.
"Pichu…he-"
"Has to go eat!" reported Pichu, cutting the announcer off. "Bye!" And with that, he dashed out of the studio, heading for another Taco Bell.
"That was awkward."
The cameraman nodded and took out his squeaky banana toy and played with it.
"Oh well. Now you know…Pichu, the plunger chewer that's made of banana pudding."
"WHEE! It's bananas! B-A-N-A-N-A-S! It's bananas! B-A-N-A-N-A-S!" sang the cameraman, waving the little noisy banana.
"Here's the tip of the day: don't quit your day job to become a Gwen Stefani impersonator," advised the announcer, disturbed by his horrid singing voice.
Here are the cookies to reviewers from last chapter, like I promised. YAYZORZ!
Next is Nana. After that is Dr. Mario.