Title: "Full Circle"
--------------------
Pokemon belongeth not to meself. Fic belongs to me.
---
Ring.
Mommy? What? Okay. I’m okay. It’s so nice and fluffy here. Soft…
Ring.
Dammit, what’s ringing? There aren’t any phones in the middle of the forest.
Ring.
Then again, there aren’t any nice soft fluffy beds in the middle of the forest.
Ring.
So we must be in a hotel. Which means a hot breakfast that I don’t have to cook.
Ring.
And a shower, which will put everyone in a good mood, which means I won’t get the shit beat…
Ring.
From across the room came a voice, muffled by the fact that the person producing the voice was buried up
to her ears in a feather pillow.
“The phone’s ringing.”
He was debating whether or not to answer the voice, whether he should disturb this quiet reverie of sleep.
If he didn’t answer, she might get mad. So: “Yup.”
Ring.
“It might be something important.”
Again, the moral debate: sleep or abuse? “Yup.”
The voice had still not pulled itself from its freshly laundered nest. It sighed. “Or it might just be a wake-
up call.”
“Yup.”
“Did we order a wake-up call?”
Ring.
“Yup.”
“When for? Can you see the clock?”
“Haven’t opened my eyes yet.”
“Oh.”
Ring.
Silence.
Ring.
One of them had to answer it.
Ring.
What if it was the boss and they didn’t answer the phone?
Ring.
With new determination, James decided that if Jess didn’t answer it in the next two rings, he would get it
himself.
Ring.
Pause.
Ring.
But what if she had just thought the same thing? If he answered it now, he could be losing out on valuable
sleep time.
Ring.
Okay, one more ring and he’d get it.
Silence.
C’mon, he needed to answer the phone.
Silence.
“Jess?” he mumbled.
“Mrrph?”
“Did the phone stop ringing?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Did you get it?”
“No.”
“They hung up.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Damn.”
“Mmm.”
---
“Tell me, is there a difference between Super Al’s Mega Loaf and Wonderbread?” James inquired, reading
the labels on the loaves.
“I dunno,” Jessie said, swinging her legs. She was comfortably nestled in the shopping cart, reading a copy
of Cosmo. “Did you know that thirty-five percent of relationships fail because the guy couldn’t get it up?”
“I really see no difference between them, nutrition wise. Jess?”
“Hmm?”
“Can you help me out here?”
“What, with the bread?”
“Yes, with the bread,” James whined. “I just don’t get it.”
“Here, give them to me,” Jessie said, reaching out for the similar plastic-wrapped bundles. Her partner
surrendered them willingly. She proceeded to squish both loaves flat, then held them up to James,
proclaiming, “which ever one springs back into loaf form fastest, you buy.”
“Gee, thanks, Jessie!” he smiled, watching the resilient bread un-squish itself. “Ha! Wonderbread it is!”
“Glad I could help,” she muttered, turning back to her magazine. “Hmm, Thirteen Ways To Make Him
Beg For More. James, can you think of thirteen ways a chick could make you beg for more?” Jessie asked
as he tossed several loaves of bread in the cart next to her and proceeded to the canned goods section.
“I can think of only one way that really matters,” he said.
“Which is?”
“Give me something, anything, in the first place. Guaranteed I come begging for more within twenty
minutes.”
Jess looked up at him with interest. “Really? I didn’t know you were such an… enthusiast.”
“I’m male, Jessie. Despite my tendencies to cross dress, I come completely equipped.”
“How very sexist.”
“It’s true, though. That’s why there are no men’s equality movements. We accept our stereotypes, because
they’re not stereotypes, they’re facts. Where’s the goddamn Shake-n-bake?”
“I never thought of it that way,” Jess remarked, turning the page.
“Feel better now that you’re enlightened?”
“Much, thank you,” she said, reading again.
“Where the hell do they keep the Shake-n-bake in this store? Can’t a man find his Shake-n-bake without
surmounting a journey of epic proportions? I mean, Jesus…”
---
“Hi-ho, hi-ho, it’s shoveling we go…” James sang loudly as he vigorously threw clods of dirt from the
hole.
“Is that really necessary, James?” growled his fellow Rocket, toiling in the dirt.
“I’m keeping our spirits up,” James grinned enthusiastically. “One can only be expected to attempt to find
shelter in meaningless drivel when one’s day’s work consists of even less.”
“Just shovel.”
“Yes, Madam Jessie,” James smiled and returned to his digging.
(Ten minutes later)
“God DAMN it! How come we always end up in the hole?” Jessie screamed.
James was still in a chipper mood. He grinned at his friend, pulled himself upright, and shouted to the
retreating trio, “Bye, guys! See you tomorrow!”
Ash turned around. “Bye, James. Sorry about the hole!”
“No problem!” James turned back to Jessie, who very promptly hit him.
“Do you have to be so friendly?” she sneered, anger burning in her veins.
“Sorry, Jess,” he returned meekly. “I’m just in a good mood today, I guess.”
She sighed. “Do you not realize that we are supposed to be keeping up Team Rocket’s evil appearance?
We can’t seem like happy-go-lucky friendly folks who just happen to blow people up. It’s our image,
remember?”
“I guess I didn’t think about that,” James apologized, helping his partner onto his shoulders. “I’m not a
naturally violent guy. It’s just so hard to be evil all the time.”
Jessie clambered out of their hole and turned to pull her friend out. Grabbing his hand, she said, “I know,
but it’s our job. We’re supposedly good at our job, remember?” James scrambled up the side of the hole
and stood dusting off his uniform.
“Yes, yes, I know, Team Rocket’s elite, blah blah blah, nobody else could handle the constant dejection
and failure, blah blah, acting experience, blah,” he mumbled.
“Good,” Jessie said, grabbing his wrist and marching off. “Now let’s find that cat and warn him that the
hole didn’t work before he makes an even bigger mess.”
“A bigger mess than we made? Impossible!”
---
“So then A.J. says to me, wait, that’s not my Farfetch’d!” Jessie laughed. Next to her in the Denny’s
corner booth, James and Meowth were in hysterics. “And the thing just popped up, shouted, ‘Farfetch’d’,
and ran off…” her story dissolved into her own fit of partial Farfetch’d, partial beer-with-breakfast-for-
lunch induced hysteria.
“Stop, stop, yer killin Meowth…” the cat coughed. After several minutes, they calmed down and set back
to work on their 3.99 Grand Slam breakfasts.
“Gotta hand it to you, Jessie,” James began, “I never thought that Denny’s could be so much fun while not
stoned.” His partner blushed and poked at a fragment of pork sausage.
“You ready for the check, kids?” the waitress approached, handing them the tab.
“Yes, thank you,” James smiled, digging for his wallet in the cargos of his civilian khakis. The waitress
smiled back and left with their empty plates.
James found his wallet and pulled out all the cash he had. “Uh. Meowth?”
“Yeah, Jamesy?” the normally ornery Poke-cat was in a good mood from the large amounts of cheap food
filling his stomach.
“Didn’t you say you’d withdrawn some money this morning?”
“Nah, I told you you needed to go to the ATM…”
“But you said…”
“No, you said.”
Finishing her cheap beer, Jessie looked over at her partner. “Why, James, is there a problem?”
“Other than the fact that I only have enough for the tip, no.”
They looked at each other, each thinking what the other was thinking.
When the waitress came back to collect the bill, she found a generous tip wadded up and stuffed in a beer
mug, and three missing customers. “Crazy kids,” she mumbled as she collected the remaining silverware
and stomped off to the kitchen.
---
And Team Rocket blasts off again.
While soaring through the air: “Hey, Jessie?”
“Yes, James?”
“I just had an epiphany.”
“You had a what?”
“An epiphany.”
“Should we bring you to the hospital?”
“No, no, an epiphany, a sudden insight. I figured it all out.”
“Where on earth did you come up with that word?”
“It’s in the dictionary, I don’t know.”
“I don’t think that’s an actual word, James.”
“Of course it is! I don’t just go around making up words! What sort of person would do that?”
“You! You just made up that empithany thing.”
“Epiphany.”
“Whatever. I don’t believe you.” They could hardly see the ground from where they were now, and they
were still going up.
“Well, as I was saying, I had this epiphany…”
“How can you have one if there’s no such thing?”
“SHUT UP! I HAD AN EPIPHANY!”
“There is no such word!”
“Is SO!”
“Not!”
“Can I just tell you my freaking idea, Jessie?” James shouted, the familiar squeak working its way into his
voice. They had reached the top of their flight, and abruptly changed directions. They were now hurtling
towards the earth.
“Of course, James, as long as you don’t make up any more nonsensical words.”
“I didn’t in the first place… oh, forget it.”
“No, go on.”
“Alright, so I had this epi… idea.”
“You established that.”
“Yes, but it’s a good idea.”
“I have no doubt.”
“But you didn’t hear it.”
“I know, I’m just saying that I trust that the idea is valid, believable, and in no way completely pulled out
of your ass, like that word you made up.”
“I DID NOT… anyway, this idea…”
“Just get to the point.” They were close enough to make out Cinnibar Island in the south now.
“I was trying, but you keep interrupting.”
“I’m just trying to get the straight story.”
“It’s not a story, it’s an idea that I had.”
“I know, stupid. Now just tell me your fucking idea!”
“Well, I don’t know if I want to now. I’m feeling very useless and invalidated right now.”
Jessie sighed. “I’m sorry, James, if I made you feel useless and invalidated. Your opinion counts very
much. Now let’s hear this bullshit idea that you had.”
Censoring the ‘bullshit’ out of Jessie’s sentence, James smiled at the compliment and cleared his throat.
“Well, I was thinking… Jess, are you listening?”
“Hmm? Yes, I’m sorry, I was just noticing how pretty the forest is from up here.”
“Okay, I was thinking we should wear parachutes under our uniforms, so we wouldn’t smack into the earth
like we are going to in, I’d say, about twelve seconds.”
“Hey! That makes sense!”
“See, I said it was an epiphany!”
Thud.
---
Jessie and James sat on the floor of the hotel room, surrounded by travel brochures.
They finally had a real, live vacation coming. Two whole weeks.
James was reading a pamphlet. “How about Alaska, Jess? It’s supposed to be incredibly beautiful.”
“And cold. What are you, stupid? We’re going on a vacation here,” Jessie scowled.
“Ireland?”
“Too wet.”
“Hawaii.”
“Humidity wreaks havoc on my hair.”
“Where, then?”
“I want to go to Paris.”
“Aww, but that’s so boring…”
“Boring? You, James, the culture buff? James, who grew up surrounded by art and music and culture?
Thinks Paris would be boring?”
“I wanna go somewhere relaxing, not somewhere that I have to follow you around while you shop.”
“How sentimental.”
“Meowth wanna go to Jamaica,” the cat added in.
“Nobody asked you, Poke-freak,” Jessie glowered.
“Fine, fine, I know when I’m not wanted,” pouted Meowth. “If you need me, I’ll be in the sauna,
catnapping,” he said, stalking out the door.
“We could go to Madrid, Jess. There’s a music festival coming up.”
“I don’t know… I’m still partial to France.”
“How about Australia? Koala bears, kangaroos, sheep?”
“No.”
“Peru? See the jungle? Exotic wildlife?”
“Bugs as big as your fist?”
“You have a point,” James agreed. “Okay, then, Florida. Botanical Gardens?”
“Too… touristy.”
“Fine.”
“Hey, James?”
“What.”
“Please?”
“Please what?”
“Please come to Paris with me? Huh? C’mon.”
“Jessie…”
“James, have you ever had French food? I know you have.”
He had no response to this.
“And French women?”
“Paris it is!”
“I knew you’d come around.”
---
Three familiar Rocket members were camped out by a river.
They had come into the possession of some illegal substances, and were in the process of disposing of
them.
In short, they were stoned.
Jessie was giggling.
James was gawking.
Meowth was lying on his back on the ground, humming softly to himself.
Digging into a box of Cheezy Biskits, Jessie threw one at her partner. As it flew by his head, he did his
best Cheezy Biskit impersonation. “I’m fllyyyying! I’m fllyyyyying! I’m falllling!”
Giggling again, Jessie joined in. “Oh, noooo, evil Team Rocket is going to eeeeeat me!” Crunch.
“Hehehe. He he. Hoooo.”
Jessie looked into the campfire. “Fire’s cool.”
“I know,” James drawled. “It’s like, fwah! An’ it burns shit up like, fwah! Heh.”
“’S cool. The fire reflects in your eyes. Leetle, itty-bitty fires. Doesn’t that hurt?”
“Hey, Jess?”
“Yes, O reflective one?”
“Hey, Jess, why’re you so cranky sometimes, eh?”
“I dunno. Cause there’s not enough weed for me to be stoned all’s the time.”
“No, but really. Cause you’re fun ‘n’ all, but then you beat me up.”
“Yeah. It’s cool.”
“You! You’re a sadist, is what.”
“Heh. Hehehehe. Funny word.”
“Sadist. Sa-dist. Nah, not really.”
“Shut you up you you James person.”
Jessie pulled herself up from the ground and staggered over to the marshmallow bag. James called after
her, “Ooh! Bring me some.”
“’Kay, Jamesy, mallows comin’ right up.” She stumbled over to his sleeping bag and sat down next to him.
“Thanks.”
“Yesss. You know what?”
“What?” he giggled.
“This is fun.” She leaned over and clumsily kissed his cheek.
“Whoa, easy girl.”
“I’m not doin’ anything, don’t get your panties in a knot.”
There was silence for a minute, then James started laughing.
“What’s so funny?”
“I’m not wearing any underwear.”
Together, they collapsed to the dirt in a giddy drug-induced mania.
---
“Welcome to Ned’s Freaky Farm Bonanza!” read the cheaply lettered sign. A smaller one underneath said,
“Enter at your own risk.” It was the stereotypical crappy haunted house, and the admission had cost them
five bucks a pop, too.
“James, this sucks,” the fiery Rocket female muttered.
“You scared, Jess?” James smirked, glancing at her through the corner of his eye as they approached the
old barn that held, quote-unquote, “Freakiest, Scariest Haunted House of the Season!”
“’Course not,” she replied, incredulously. “Ghosts are children’s stories.”
“Not… all of them,” James glowered evilly. “You never know…”
“Oh, cut the sinister crap. You’re just trying to scare me, and it’s not working.”
“It sure worked on Meowth,” he laughed, looking briefly back at the cat curled up in the window of the
“Apple Barn” refreshment shack.
“Well, you’ll find I’m not as easy to impress as a Pokemon,” she grinned, mischievously.
“Ooh. I like it when you talk dirty, Jessie…” he quieted as she smacked him in the arm. He had said it as a
jest, but… she looked, well, good… in a grayish-blue knit sweater and a pair of loose-fitting jeans. He
mumbled something about how Ketchum and crew were rumored to have entered the same haunted house,
then approached the door of the haunted barn.
It creaked open with an appropriately hair-raising shriek. Jessie looked up at her parner. He smiled back at
her. “You scared yet?”
“Terrified,” she said, deadpan.
James held the door for her, bowing, “After you, m’lady.”
Outside, Ash and crew were just exiting the haunted barn. They looked… well, how does one look as one
exits a particularly shabby haunted house?
Even the sound effects are cheesy, James thought to himself as he wandered through stacked hay bales,
Jessie trailing behind him. She had insisted that he take the lead after a zombie made a pass at her. James
hadn’t minded. It allowed him to play hero for a while, a role he usually submitted to his partner.
A badly made-up Frankenstein jumped unhappily out from behind a pillar. “Halt, who dares to enter my
palace?” He recited his lines with particular contempt.
James sympathized. “Bad day, huh?”
The “monster” rolled his eyes. “You have no idea. Some eight-year-old puked its guts out on me twenty
minutes ago. I feel so dirty.”
“You look the role, at least,” James smirked.
“Thanks, man. So do I have to go through the who spiel with you, or will you just continue on your way?”
“Oh, we’ll take the whole spiel, please,” James said, eagerly. “Plus some.”
The Frankenstein made a disgusted face, and then went back into character. “To pass, you must offer me
some form of payment. I demand your woman! Arrrgh.”
“Never!” James shouted, playing into the role of Dread Pirate Roberts, and having a wonderful time of it.
“Fear not, my lady,” he said to Jessie, who shook her head and sighed at her friend’s bravado. “Fear not,
for the handsome Prince James will save you! Have at thee, beast!” He turned to the actor in the
Frankenstein mask, grabbed a nearby stick, and smacked at the man until he fell over, playing dead.
“Run, run fair lady, before his minions come after us!” He called urgently to Jessie.
“Oh, James…”
“Quick!” He grabbed her hand and pulled her along into the dark of the haunted barn.
---
“Don’t forget to put my hair spray under the necessities this time, James.”
“Next time how about you write the expense report, huh?” James whimpered. “I always get stuck with the
sucky jobs.”
Okay, he thought. Down to work.
WORK RELATED
1 Drilling machine. (For the holes.) $1,500.
1 Hi-Definition TV, small. (Well… we bought the small one. Doesn’t that help?) $2,039.95
2 pairs ice skates. (To catch the damn Pikachu.) 39.99 each
1 tutu, size 30 waist. (Mine. Of course. Pink. Of course. To catch the damn Pikachu) 29.00
1 tutu, size 26 waist. (Jessie bought one too. To mock me with.) 29.00
1 wig, blonde. (Again, with the Pikachu. I got to be the woman, again.) 40.00
1 mustache, gray. (And Jessie the man.) 12.98
3 cans of orange hair dye. (Don’t ask.) 3.49 each
NECESSITIES
1 gross. Hairspray, Juju’s Super Hold. (Jessie’s.) 280.00
4 washes, Harry’s Laundry –n- diner. (What, you want us to be dirty?) 26.00
5 boxes Kitty Delight catnip. (We needed to incapacitate Meowth for a short while.) 10.50
FOOD
A lot. Probably however much is left on the card. You’re not going to fire us, are you? You love us, don’t
you?
LODGING
1 night stay, Joe’s Vista Motel. (Not as nice as it sounded.) 50.00
1 night stay, Andrew and the Antelope. (Hey, they had a pool.) 78.89
3 night stay, Jadinn Pool Suites, Inc. (Umm… Meowth said… and… then the Pikachu…) 640.00
Other than that, we slept in the woods.
James paused, his head in his palm. They would never get away with this.
---
“It’s official, we’re snowed in. I went down to the front desk, they said it’s three and a half feet deep and
we’ll be stuck here for most of the day. Unless we own skis. Which we don’t,” Jessie announced, entering
their hotel room. James was sprawled on the bed with some obscure philosophy text, Meowth was curled
up on a chair.
James looked up. “So what’re we supposed to do then?”
“I dunno. Consider it a paid vacation and hope it starts snowing again?”
“Sounds good enough to me.”
James went back to reading his book. Jessie flopped down on the other side of the bed and flipped on the
TV.
After she had channel surfed for half an hour she turned it off. Her leg twitched absently. She looked over
at her partner, who was completely absorbed in his book. Well, if it interested him that much, maybe it was
good. She glanced over his shoulder.
And gave up after two minutes. It was most definitely not her kind of book.
She found a pen on the table next to the bed and chucked it at Meowth. He mumbled something in his
sleep and rolled over.
Her leg started twitching again. She studied the remote control to the television. Lot of buttons on that
thing. She threw that at Meowth, too. He woke up, glared at her, and stalked to the other side of the room,
protected by a plush chair.
Okay. She was bored. She flopped on her side, towards James, and peeked at him from over his book.
“Hiya, pardner.”
“Mmmph.”
“Whatcha doin’?”
“Reading.”
She sighed. Okay. Maybe if she was more direct. “James, I’m bored.”
“Really.”
“Very, very bored.”
He looked up from his book, finally. “Mmm-hmm? And.”
“You wanna do something?”
“Like what, go for a walk?” he motioned to the window. It was cold just looking out at the blizzard in
progress.
“Ha ha. I don’t know. We could think of something.”
James put his book down on his lap and squawked, “Jessica, are you propositioning me?”
“No,” she rolled her eyes. “I was thinking… I don’t care. Conversation, at least.”
James smiled, patronizing, “If you really want, we could get a deck of cards and play poker.”
“We don’t have any cards.”
“Paper-rock-scissors.”
“Not exactly a long-term solution.”
“Truth or dare,” James suggested, frustrated.
Jessie thought for a minute. Almost as childish as paper-rock-scissors. But with a twist. “Okay.”
James recoiled. “I was joking!”
“Too late.”
“You can’t play truth or dare with just two people.”
“Meowth!”
“What?” grumbled the cat. “What do you want now? You got a stapler or something to throw at me now?”
“No. Come play truth or dare with us.”
“Not a chance.”
“Aw, come on, please…” Jessie begged.
Meowth mumbled something as he went back to sleep.
“Oh, damn.”
James giggled triumphantly. “No truth or dare for Jessie! You’ll have to find out who Meowth has a crush
on some other way.” Standing up, he reached his hand out to her. “Come on. We’ll see if this place has a
bar. And maybe a pool table.”
Jessie smiled thankfully and took his hand.
---
It was really, really dark.
James had never seen the forest so black. He couldn’t see his hand in front of his face. He knew this
because he tested it, touching his nose with his hand. And he couldn’t see it. He had woken up because he
had to pee. And now he couldn’t see to find his flashlight…
He felt around his sleeping bag, looking for the lantern. His hand hit very cold dirt, a patch of grass, then
something slimy—he didn’t want to know what that could be--, then Jessie’s sleeping bag, Jessie’s head…
it had to be around here somewhere. He felt on the other side of him. Just dirt.
He had to pee. This was becoming more and more his only thought as his bladder expanded.
He finally decided to find a secluded shrubbery without the aid of artificial light. It had come to this,
peeing in the dark.
He struggled out of his sleeping bag. He could feel the chill of the night through his sweats, despite the fact
that they were near the Equator. It was the middle of January, though, so what could you expect?
Stumbling, he made his way out of camp, his arms out in front of him like in an old B-flick. He walked a
short way until his fingers brushed the rough bark of a tree. It’d work. He was far enough from camp to
guarantee he wouldn’t accidentally piss in someone’s hair. And he had to go.
He sighed with relief. Poor tree, he though. How degrading. You’re just trying to get a little rest, and here
I am pissing all over you.
A quiet growl gave him the idea that he might be pissing on more than a tree.
And as the growl grew, the belief that whatever he was pissing on was vicious became stronger and
stronger.
He…replaced… himself in his boxers. And backed away from the angry tree.
The growl grew to a roar.
He was lucky he had finished pissing, because he would have doused his drawers otherwise.
He could hear whatever it was that had been urinated upon’s footsteps towards him. Oh shit, he thought.
He turned and ran, screaming, back towards where he thought he had come from. James’ familiar screech
woke Jessie up. She picked up the lantern, which was right next to her sleeping bag—of course. What
kind of idiot didn’t strategically place their flashlight before going to bed?—and switched it on.
In the lantern light, she could see James tearing towards camp, followed by what appeared to be a very
upset Clefairy.
She rolled her eyes and went back to bed.
---
It was late at night, and our favorite Rocket trio was taking in some free cable at their hotel. It was late
enough that there weren’t even any reruns of the Simpsons, just infomercials and offensive, badly censored
movies.
James was lucky enough to find Rocky Horror Picture Show on channel nine.
So they curled up on the bed to watch it. Jessie was snuggled in the crook of his arm, her head resting on
his shoulder. Meowth, as usual, was napping on her lap.
About at the part where Rocky comes alive and sings “Sword of Damocles”, Jessie mumbled, “I never did
understand this movie. I mean, what’s the point of it? It’s… bizarre.”
James looked over at her, dumbfounded. “You mean you never figured it out?”
“Figured what out?”
“The deeper meaning, Jess.”
“Deep, shmeep. It’s about Frank N. Furter having sex with a lot of people.”
“I’m stunned. I never thought you could be so cruel. This is a work of art.”
Jessie sat up a little, looking into James’ face to make sure he wasn’t joking. He wasn’t, either. “Okay,
Einstein. You explain to poor little stupid Jessie what deeper meaning lies in the Rocky Horror Picture
Show.”
James grinned at her, then gestured at the screen with the remote. “Well, despite your crude theories, there
is actually a lot of depth to this movie. The whole thing is symbolic for our society’s repression of
passion.” He glanced over and noticed her blush at the mention of the word. He continued. “See, Brad
and Janet symbolize morality and innocence, respectively. They show very little passion, but have
convinced themselves that that is all there is to life. Riff Raff exemplifies the complete repression of all
passion save anger. If you’ll remember, the only time in the movie he shows any emotion, insanity not
included, is when Magenta (who stands for cynicism) suggests that Frank really did like him. He gets
furious. Rocky stands for lust and sexuality, Doctor Scott for intelligence, Columbia for faith, Eddie for
love, and Frank N. Furter stands for passion itself. You’ll notice that the characters that showed the most
passion, being Frank, Rocky, Eddie, and Columbia, all wind up dead. Those who showed little passion,
Brad, Janet, and Dr. Scott, live, but are scarred for life. And those who showed no passion at all, Magenta
and Riff, fly off into the sunset. The moral of the story? Can’t be passionate and live on earth. Get it?
Jess?”
James looked over at his partner and best friend. Her eyes were closed, her face completely relaxed. She
was asleep.
James smiled and switched off the televison.
---
Ring.
Where do I remember this from? Seems vaguely familiar.
Ring.
But this is different There is warmth radiating from something next to me.
Ring.
James cracked his eyes open. Jessie was asleep in his arms.
Ring.
Oh.
Ring.
He pulled the phone cord out of the wall and buried his face in her hair, surrounded by her smell and the
sound of her breathing.
He went back to sleep.
---
A brief explanation of my personal view of Team Rocket: Note, this is not an original theory. Most of it
was decided by DangerMouse, whose fan fictions can be found at
http://members.dencity.com/teamrocket42/frames.html . Yes, I’m sucking up. Watch me.
Ahem. Jessie, James and Meowth are actually an elite Rocket group. Look at the evidence. Meowth used
to be “top cat”, so he’s pretty high up there to be Giovanni’s henchman. Jessie and James wear different
uniforms than anyone else on Team Rocket. They have yet to successfully do ANYTHING, and nobody’s
fired them yet.
See?
So, the idea is that they’re actually publicity for Team Rocket. They go around doing obvious and
unsuccessful missions and getting TR in the news, meanwhile covering up all the real Rocket schemes.
So, ha! Team Rocket is cooler than you are! Boo, raa!