Better Life: Part 3

So, there I was. I was about to face the hardest challenge of my life in Team Rocket. It would be like nothing, nothing, I had ever been through. Well, maybe, something like it, but not for what was at stake.

“First of you weak bladdered bastards to even think about dashing to the latrine, ten lashes,” Reams called out, in that good-natured voice of his. Even though it was full of humor, during my second day at the camp, I knew he was serious.

We ( my training class) was in a specially made room. It was large enough to seat the fifteen of us, but not many others. The walls were covered in wallpaper that showed scenes of waterfalls. Right in front of us was a large screen showing a pitcher of lemonade being poured. Nothing else, just the pouring. The sound of water running surrounded us.

It was water, just running water.

It was pure unbridled torture.

No wonder they had made us load up on as many beverages as we could load up on. A couple of minutes past, our drill instructor made had invited us to partake of any drink that was available. There was practically any and all types of beverages you could think off, particularly alcohol. That was one of the first to go.

Frankly, I hate beer, but I did have an affinity for fine red wine.

One of the few things that my parents instilled in me that I kept.

Anyhoo, I drank that the most, and I was feeling a slight buzz. I tried to dilute that with water, so I wasn’t drunk. Just feeling fine with the world. I did feel the urge to go, but our instructor herded us into this room, and informed us off the situation.

I started to silently curse at them for putting us in such a stupid situation. I cursed myself for drinking so damn much. And I cursed whoever the hell thought this crap up.

To keep my mind off of my surroundings, I tried to think of a song, hell, any song to keep my mind off of my full bladder.

I remembered almost any song I had ever known, from those Italian concertos my parents forced on me, to the hard rock Jessie listened to. In fact, I was trying to remember the lyrics to a Godsmack song about then.

I was futilely jamming along with them in my head, trying desperately to ignore the pain in my bladder, but it was getting nowhere.

Luckily, I wasn’t the only one. The guy right next to me was grabbing at his crotch, his face red. It wasn’t a pretty sight, but hey, at least some were in the same boat. After twenty minutes, and two guys wetting their pants, one finally made a mad dash to the bathroom. Reams stopped him, made him take off his sleeveless shirt, and proceeded to give him ten lashes right across the back.

“Alright, you all can rush to the bathrooms now. You know where they are. Twenty minute break then we meet back in the dojo. Copy?” he asked us, giving us all the eye.

“YES, SIR, SERGEANT REAMS, SIR!” we yelled in unison, and then we scurried off like mad men, finding the nearest toilet or bush to relieve ourselves. I waited for the guy to be done in the bathroom in the room and was able to get it out before I did it on my self.

I washed my hands and left, sighing in relief. I left the mess hall and walked to the dojo. Already a few people were there, talking amongst themselves. I recognized one of them as my new friend, Dawes. Seeing, as too how I had nowhere else to go, I greeted him and started a conversation with him and his friends.

I surprisingly and quickly fit in and we were just shooting the breeze, until Reams came in. He hopped into the boxing ring and began to address the class.

“Alright, people, you know the drill. Any conflicts any of you have with each other?” he asked. A few hands went up, but luckily, I hadn’t pissed off anyone today. I sat back and watched the brutal fight.

In the end, one guy came and hopped out, barely sweating while the other guy left a bloody trail wherever his face hit the mat. In some corner of my mind, I was sick to my stomach.

I was sick to my stomach because it didn’t have much of an effect on me.

Reams nodded his head when it was done. “Good… hey trainee… pass me my money!” he told one of the recruits next to him. Grudgingly, he forked over a wad of cash, and Reams pocketed it with a look of satisfaction on his face.

Reams leapt into the ring, and again started speaking to the class. “Alright class, I need to know how many of you have stolen anything before. Not food, I mean cash, jewels, valuables.”

Practically everyone raised his hands. I was the only one who had their hand down. No matter how rough things got out in the bike gang, we never resorted to petty stealing… well ok, it was just me, but they understood why.

Now, everyone was looking at me. Of course someone had to say something.

“Hey, man, raise your hand,” my main heckler called out. “You know you stole a family jewel or two in your time!”

The class burst into laughter. Usually such lewd remarks wouldn’t get under my skin, but … just the way he said it… how he said it…. A temper I never knew existed erupted in me.

“Oh, yeah,” I retorted, “While I stole the jewels, you shoved ‘em up your ass!” I know, not the best come back in the world, but I didn’t have much to work with. Luckily, that got a few chuckles from a few people.

Before the situation could get further, Reams interrupted. “So, seriously, Jimmy, you never stole any of those things? Not even pick-pocket?”

I started to sweat at all the attention I was getting, everyone still staring at me. “Ur… no, sir. I never did,” I stammered out.

Reams rubbed his chin thoughtfully, a bit of a scowl on his face. “ Well, dammit, that means we’re going to have to teach you everything from scratch.” He sighed a little, and hopped back out the ring.

“Today, we have an exercise that will help hone your thieving skills. A couple of tests will be set up to judge your weaknesses and strengths,” Reams addressed us. With that he led us through to the second largest building on the site.

It was a few stories tall, about five to my estimation. It was just a plain, drab building. It had only two entrances, and two exits one in the front, one in the back. We entered through the front.

The interior of the building was totally different though. We entered through the front lobby, which in it’s pristine cleanliness and whiteness, reminded me of a hospital. We were split up into groups of five, making three separate groups. My group was led through a separate room than the others.

In the center of the room was a human sized dummy, decked out in a gentlemen’s outfit. I chuckled a little, because it reminded me of my father, all primped and proper, back straight, chest out, walking cane in hand.

The floor was tiled in plain white, with large crystalline clumps all over. Reams turned to us, and spoke.

“Ok. This is the pick-pocketing test. Your job is to take that man’s wallet and pokeballs without him knowing.”

One cadet raised his hand. “Uh, sorry to burst your bubble sir, but that’s not a real man.”

Reams sighed. “Of course it’s not, so shut up. Getting back to what I was saying, you have to take his valuables. The dummy is mocked up with very sensitive sensors, so you have to make sure you don’t touch any. Also, the entire room is sound sensitive, any sound that is heard will trigger the alarms, and you will have failed the test.”

He looked us all over, and centered his gaze on me. “Any questions?”

There were none. Reams sent the first guy in. The door was closed, but it was clear glass so we saw what he was doing. He was tip-toeing like a cartoon character, raising his knees to high, up, walking only on the balls of his feet, his arms bent at the elbow, and everything. He approached the dummy and lightly put his hand in the pocket. The alarms were triggered and he ran back to the door entrance.

Reams looked him over, smiled and turned back to us and said, “And that my friend is how you make a complete and total ass of yourself.” We laughed, except for the guy who was red in the face.

After two other failed attempts by the other members of my group, I was next. A plan formulated in my mind, but I wasn’t too sure if it would work. I entered the room, took a deep breath and walked in.

“Uncle!” I cried out in a loud, audible voice. The audio alarms went off, but I ignored them.

“UNCLE!” I screamed out, and hugged the dummy. I could see the smirks and laughs on the other cadets’ faces, but I ignored them. I took a double take at the dummy, as if I had mistaken him for someone else.

“Oh, woops, sir, I’m sorry,” I apologized and left. Reams looked at me and broke out laughing. “I take back what I said earlier,” he said between laughs. “THAT’S how you make a total and complete ass of yourself!”

I laughed along with the other cadets, realizing how foolish I must have looked.

“That’s true, sir, but it got the job done,” I said, and handed him the wallet and the pokeballs I had snitched off of the dummy. Reams looked at me, a little shocked at what I had done. The other cadets’ jaws all but dropped.

“But the sensor alarms weren’t tripped or anything,” an awed trainee said. I shrugged.

“That was the point, wasn’t it?” Reams replied, sounding a bit annoyed at the recruit, who promptly shut his mouth. The last guy went in and tried the same tactic, but it backfired badly on him.

He stepped out looking disappointed. Then he looked up at me. “How did you know that the pokeballs weren’t in his belt?” he asked.

Remembering something my parents had taught me years ago, I replied, “ A gentlemen never carries his pokeballs in his belt. And since they aren’t in his belt, they are held in the interior of his jacket.”

He looked at me incredulously, and shook his head. Reams looked at me thoughtfully, but didn’t say anything.

Ok, that’s it for now. Sorry it was so short, but I’m all out of ideas for this chapter. Any comments, suggestions to Shagti2@aol.com and all flames to Shoveitupyour@ss.com! G’night Gracie!