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Chapter 1
Enemy of the School
Randy was a loser. Not just any ordinary loser, but Randy must have been the king of losers. Plus he was the only reason why I found interest at school. Whenever I got angry or frustrated, all I had to do was find Randy Ferguson and release my stress upon him. It always made my day.
And Randy’s Pokémon were also losers, and they’d always be that way since they always got beat up badly every time he battled. I must have made Randy’s Pidgey and Nidoran kiss dirt at least twenty times, but I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve really beaten him. Randy also had a Growlithe and a Caterpie, and I’ve knocked their lights out plenty of times. Obviously, Randy was too stupid to know how to really battle.
Alex and David, two of my best friends also hated Randy’s guts. While I liked to slowly torture Randy’s Pokémon in a battle, Alex wiped out Randy’s Pokémon so fast it was hilarious. David on the other hand liked to just outright pound the stuffing out of Randy’s Pokémon with his Rhydon and his Tyranitar until there was barely anything left to identify them. Randy said he’s been a trainer for nearly two years. To me, he was practically on the same level as a beginner who only just started yesterday. If that’s not pathetic, then I don’t know what is.
We only got caught once picking on Randy, and it was in the hallway between classes. But all the other times, Randy pointed blame at us but just had nothing to prove it. One day, Alex put a stink-bomb in Randy’s desk while he was away, and when Randy came back and threw his books in, he broke the glass and the whole classroom smelled like something died in there for the entire day. Of course, we only did it once, just like everything else we did to him. Otherwise he’d begin to catch on, and honestly, I preferred being original.
Another amusement came from my birthday. Normally, whenever someone’s birthday comes up, their mom makes cupcakes for everyone in the class. My mom did the same thing, and I sprinkled them all sorts of colors, red, yellow, blue, and purple. Each cupcake was its own color, but for Randy, I sprinkled his green to indicate to me which one I would hand to him. After I made sure mom wasn’t looking, I slipped a laxative tablet into the green-sprinkled cupcake. When I handed it to Randy the next day, he ate it so fast and it was a struggle not to burst out laughing. After a hilarious series of events, Randy’s new nickname was “potty-pants” for the rest of the school year. Still, he didn’t have an ounce of proof that I had anything to do with it. Again, it was pure genius.
Since my allowance was small, I needed to rely on Randy’s lunch money as a considerable income. I never felt guilty about taking it either. Heck, I figured that if Randy had the school lunch everyday, he’d become just as fat as Frank Meyers, who we’d always call “shirt-burster” on a regular basis. I was doing Randy a favor by making sure he wouldn’t eat such crappy food that day. I then considered that his lunch money was income for my services. It wasn’t much, but a dollar a day ended up being thirty bucks a month. Then count that all up for each day of the school year… hell, I was making out well.
We got a big surprise May 14th. Well, it wasn’t during school like most of our pranks took place, it was after. And it didn’t start with Randy this time…
Alex, David and I had been walking down the stairs out of the back entrance of Scottville Middle School and then we saw it. There he was, Frank Meyers lying down in the mud. His short, blonde hair and his pudgy face were soiled with liquid dirt and his shirt (or what was left of it!) was completely soaked with mud. We didn’t even need to do anything to begin laughing hysterically.
“Hey Frank!” David shouted out over a hard laugh, “What happened to ya!?”
“Chill man.” I told David, “The pig just wanted to cool himself down.”
Frank was in a cross between crying and becoming furious. We laughed even further. Someone who’s in the seventh grade really should’ve learned to stop crying like an infant long ago.
Alex then made the situation more hilarious. He found the backpack that Frank had dropped and opened it up. Alex then threw out Frank’s folders and his books and each of them landed in the mud, effectively soaking the pages full of mud. Frank was getting even worse. Then I saw something that made me laugh even further. Frank had Pokéballs in his backpack that also landed in the mud after Alex threw them out. I really just couldn’t picture a fat, worthless piece of flesh like Frank being a worthwhile Pokémon trainer…
Then, as if it couldn’t even get better, out of nowhere came Randy Ferguson. He was standing before us like he was all high and mighty, with his frizzy orange hair blowing in the wind. He was wearing a t-shirt and jeans in a hopeless attempt to fit in with everyone else at the school. Alex had dumped everything that was in Frank’s backpack before turning around and seeing our special victim.
“Well, if it isn’t potty-pants himself in living color.” Alex smiled at Randy, giving him that special glare, “If you’re looking for the bathroom, it’s inside, stupid.”
“The three of you are going to pay for picking on Frank.” Randy told us, trying to sound tough and totally ignoring Alex’s comment.
The three of us laughed even further. Here was Randy, acting like a big hero for shirt-burster. That idiot had no clue what he was getting into.
“Randy,” David told him honestly, “Even you should be aware that Frank isn’t worth the dirt he’s laying in.”
“You’re wrong!” Randy wailed, again trying to play the hero here, “And I’ll prove it to you.”
Then, Randy reached for his belt and pulled out one of his Pokéballs. I could see where this was going…
Did that idiot really expect to win a battle against us? I couldn’t believe it. All this time, Frank seemed to become more hopeful now that Randy was here to defend him. Frank was just about to learn that his guardian angel wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed.
“Go Nidoran!” Randy shouted, tossing his Pokéball forward.
The Pokéball landed on the asphalt of the parking lot, and a moment later, Randy’s worthless Nidoran emerged from its Pokéball. The three of us looked at each other to decide how we wanted to beat the stuffing out of Randy’s Pokémon. It was then decided that I should be the one to do it. To us, time plus torture equaled amusement.
I then removed one of my own Pokéballs and threw it on to the asphalt as well. Out came my fantastic Raichu. After Raichu set his gaze upon his opponent, he realized it was the same worthless Nidoran he had crushed so many times before. Even Raichu looked like he was tried of Randy’s brainless attempts to beat us.
“Raichu!” I shouted, “Use your Thunder Wave against Nidoran!”
It was getting to the point where Raichu didn’t even need commands to kick the stuffing out of Nidoran. It had become so systematic that Raichu could fight almost completely on his own like this had been something he had been trained to do.
Raichu then sent out his Thunder Wave, and when the bright pulses of electricity hit Randy’s Nidoran, he was rendered helpless, completely paralyzed from the shock. All that Nidoran could do now was quiver on his back as sparks of electricity surrounded his body.
“Slam that Nidoran with a Brick-break attack, Raichu.” I told him, knowing this would finish the job with no problem at all.
Raichu then charged at Randy’s Nidoran, and all Nidoran could do was just watch as Raichu rushed up to punish it. When Raichu reached his target, he threw a bone-cracking punch right into his side, sending Nidoran tumbling out of control. Alex and David were laughing again as Randy was losing like he always was.
“Nidoran, return.” Randy moaned in frustration as a red beam shot out from his Pokéball and landed on Nidoran. The pathetic Pokémon was then returned to Randy’s Pokéball.
He then threw out a second Pokéball, and it also landed on the parking lot. Then, out came Randy’s Pidgey. Randy didn’t even need to lose yet and we already began laughing.
“Randy,” David told him, trying to fight the hard laughter for a moment, “Don’t you know anything about type-alignments? Flying types don’t do very well against electric types like Raichu…”
“I don’t care.” Randy responded, “My Pidgey is faster than Jake’s Raichu.”
You wish. Raichu’s signature attribute was his speed, and it was ten times faster than Pidgey’s. This time I showed no mercy.
“Raichu, use your Thunderbolt.” I smiled to Raichu, knowing it would be more than enough to send Randy’s little Pidgey screaming into the oblivion.
And to help Raichu even further, Pidgey took flight. Raichu’s cheeks flared up with electricity and just as Pidgey realized what was happening, a massive fork of lightning emerged from the shining Raichu and struck Pidgey dead-on, blasting him with a bright flash. Pidgey was thoroughly cooked for ten seconds before Raichu released his power, and let the hopeless Pidgey fall from the sky just before the nice, hard and firm asphalt broke his fall. The only smart move Randy made after that was giving up.
“Fine Jake.” Randy said with frustration, “I give up. But some day, I’ll become so strong that the three of you combined won’t even beat me!”
“Randy…” Alex said, nearly laughing, “In your dreams. There’s no way you’ll ever become strong enough to beat us. You can try all you like, but you’ll never do it.”
That normally would have been a very typical day that the three of us tortured Randy. But something else happened that day that we won’t long forget about…
