Heatmor and Durant

Once upon a time, there was a hungry Heatmor named Tom Reah. Much of the time, he lived off of small nuts, acorns, and non-Pokémon bugs. But these things weren't filing, and to him, they were bland. What he would really like was a Durant. It took a little while to crack their shells, but they were so tasty, especially when quick roasted. However, some bad experiences had turned Tom off of Durant hunting for a while.

Until winter came. He had made a stash of nuts and acorns but even in the fall, he knew he couldn't gather enough for the full winter. Tom had to keep his internal fires going so that he could stay warm in the cold. Even as he made the decision to try hibernating, he just got more restless and more hungry as the hours went by.

Finally, he couldn't stand it any more. The acorns are tasteless after eating them for a full month! He kicked his box of them, making an unsettling rattle as there were so few of them. He thought he'd get into his box of nuts, as they at least were somewhat nice to eat after he'd toasted them a little bit. But when he checked in the cubby, the box was gone! Nothing but a dead leaf there now, which he wouldn't try eating unless he was really desperate. Tom hunted frantically around his little home. Not under the shelf, nor under the table. It wasn't under a rock, by his nest, in the woodbin, or in the TV cabinet. The box of nuts was completely gone, leaving him nothing but a small pile of acorns.

This was not good; he was going to starve. With no clue of where to find the nuts, and with all the little bugs gone, that left trying to catch a Durant. It would be hard, but he didn't see any easier choice. So Tom left to find the Durant nest.

The Durants lived in the side of a nearby cliff, digging through the earth for the minerals they ate. Tom got there and found some cover in a bush. While leafless, there were enough branches to obscure him a little. Better than nothing. From there, he could see some Durants working, removing wastes from their tunnels, fetching branches, even a small group that seemed to be playing music. They were all in groups though, at least two together. That would make it harder on him, as if he caught one, the other would attack.

And then he spotted one Durant that was alone. He had come out of a hole with a walnut in his jaws. The Durant then proceeded to crack the nut open and eat it, apparently not bothering to work like the others. Around his neck (well, the connection between his head and abdomen), there was a checkered blue kerchief.

Ah, that was the ticket! A lone Durant, apparently lazy. Twitching his snout as he was pleased, Tom began sneaking around the bushes and snow piles to get closer to the Durant. If he moved quick enough, the others wouldn't be able to interfere. And they were naturally slow.

The Durant finished the walnut, then started gathering up snow. Tom waited until he was certain that his prey was distracted… and then he jumped out and blasted the steel-armored ant with a stream of fire from his snout. It took quite a bit out of him, but it would be worth it.

Somehow, the Durant seemed unimpressed. He hurled half of his walnut shell at Tom, hitting his eye right on. Tom yelped at the pain and closed his eyes, patting the injured one with his paws. Was it bleeding? Then a snowball smacked him in the face. The Durant gave an irritating boastful laugh.

After wiping the snow from his face, Tom cautiously opened his eyes. He could still see, so he hadn't been blinded by that shell. Off in the distance, he could see other Durants watching him cautiously, but not bothering to interfere. Where was that one with the blue kerchief, though? With the way he had laughed at him, Tom would be glad to eat that one.

He knew where the one Durant was when he stuffed the other half of walnut shell into the hole on the end of the Heatmor's tail.

Not good, not good! He breathed through his tail! Gasping for breath, he twisted himself around that grabbed hold of his tail. The shell was in there good, enough to choke him. Tom managed to get a hold of it and yank it out, even though it scraped the sides and hurt. But once it was out, he could start breathing again. He heard that irritating laugh of the Durant.

Now he recalled why exactly he had stopped hunting Durants. Feeling weak with hunger and dizzy from the choking, Tom sat down on the ground. Back in early summer, he had been hunting some Durants when one of them dropped a boulder on his head from the top of the cliff. Not a rock, a freaking boulder that had easily been bigger than he was. And then made him run across a bunch of sharp sticky thorns. And then tricked him into falling into a lake. That Durant had laughed in that same prideful manner. Was it the same one, or were all Durants like that? if they were, he had to wonder how his ancestors managed to survive by primarily hunting them.

He heard a clicking sound, so looked down as saw the Durant with the blue kerchief. Tom's eyes went wide and he thought of running back to his home; he'd find a way to survive on bark if it meant not dealing with this Durant any more. However, the Durant offered him a bouquet of flowers, a bunch of white daisies nicely tied up with a red ribbon.

That was… weird. Tom picked up the bouquet. Was the Durant apologizing? Why? He flicked his tongue across the flowers and realized that they were fakes, made of plastic. Obviously; where would he get daisies with all this snow on the ground? But the bouquet was hissing oddly. Looking closer, there was a spark there for some reason, attached to some red cylinder. It seemed like something a human would make… no, wait, it couldn't be…

BLAM!

It was a stick of dynamite, leaving Tom stunned and covered in black ashes. The Durant laughed in hysterics.

This was not right. Something stirred in Tom. Maybe it was a feeling of being dealt with unjustly, or maybe it was a cry from his ancestors not to take this from some lowly prey. Or maybe it was just a combination of being hungry and desperate and having just taken an exploding stick of dynamite to the face. That laugh was mocking him, mocking him! He got so angry that he kicked the Durant into the wall hard, then blasted him with the most powerful fire he could muster. It left his natural fire feeling spent; he couldn't recall using a move like that at all before. After leaving a sizable scorched dent in the side of the cliff, the Durant clattered onto the ground, his kerchief all burnt up.

Was he dead?

Well that would finally get him a decent meal. Tom snatched up the Durant, then rushed back into the woods. He didn't want the others mobbing him.

Despite that attempt to get away, he was still feeling weak and couldn't run far. Even after he'd had a decent meal, he found he had to rest before he could get back to his home. That was how the other Durants caught up to him, eight of them in all. Strangely enough, two of them were packing along a distinctive box that was green and yellow in a jagged pattern. That was his box of nuts!

Tom was scared at first of the group of them; even if they were weak to fire, a group of them could overwhelm larger and tougher Pokémon than him. But as it turned out, the Durant with the blue kerchief had not been popular in their colony. In fact, he was a jerk who would do bad things to others and laugh at their misfortune. He had come back with the box of nuts just yesterday, showing it off to the others, teasing them with it, then not sharing a single nut. So they were glad he was gone, enough that they were going to give the box of nuts to Tom.

And if he would give them a little fire to help them keep their tunnels warm, and promise not to kill any of the rest, then they'd help him get more nuts to survive through winter. All things considered, it was a good deal. Tom agreed and settled himself for a nut-based diet.

At least for the winter. And there was always the possibility of finding another colony.

…

Heatmor Black entry: It breathes through a hole in its tail while it burns with an internal fire. Durant is its prey.

Durant Black entry: They attack in groups, covering themselves in steel armor to protect themselves from Heatmor.

I like and don't like the Tom and Jerry cartoons. They are funny in a slapstick manner, but Tom's just doing what a cat naturally does. He's a predator even if he is a pet. Like I've seen elsewhere, I think the cartoonists just aren't cat people.

Except for the Warner Bros. people who did Pussyfoot (so adorable) and Rita (nicely catty).

Well, this project pretty much runs on requests, and I've only got two Pokemon in my upcoming list (and one of them I picked, more or less). So if you would like to see a certain Pokemon here, you may request it in your review. Just one thing: I don't cover Pokemon twice, so make sure there isn't already an entry for the request you have.