The Tale of Indigo ~ Chapter 9

In a nearby town stood and all-night bar. Beneath it’s sign stood Jessie. “What kind of name is ‘The Pub and Arrow’?” she asked. She found out soon after entering the establishment, when a dart flew by her face. In her normal everyday mood the individual who threw the dart might’ve ended up sporting a new form of nasal jewelry, but she wasn’t in her normal everyday mood. She was in her ‘life sucks and everyone can just drop dead’ mood, which meant all she wanted to do was get drunk. 

“What can I get you?” inquired the bartender as Jessie slid onto a stool.

“Can you make a Mountain Screw?”

“That would be vodka with just enough Mountain Dew to flavor it, right?”


“Fine, why don’t you get out your ID while I mix it up for you?”

Jessie pulled out her purse and began thumbing through her assortment of identification. She had school IDs, a military ID, several driver’s licenses, and even a library card. She pulled out the driver’s license that stated she was 22 and placed it on the counter. James had done a wonderful job creating that one, she had to admit. He even managed to include a realistic watermark. Jessie let out a sigh.

“What’s wrong, darling?” asked the bartender, when she returned with Jessie’s drink.

“Life sucks.”

“That it does, and we’re left to clean up afterwards.”

Jessie laughed. “I think I’m going to like you.”

The bartender smiled. “The name’s Ophelia.”


The two shook hands. Ophelia was about to speak again when another customer demanded her attention. “Be right back.”

Jessie nodded her acknowledgment before chugging down her Mountain Screw. Needless to say it only a took a short time for the vodka to begin toying with her brain. She relaxed and allowed herself to enjoy the sensation.

“Slow down love!” said the bartender, noticing Jessie’s empty glass.

“S’okay,” Jessie assured. “I do this alot.”

“Sounds like you’ve got alot on your plate.”

As Ophelia replenished her drink, Jessie began to tell her story. She told her of Pokemon Tech and how she met James there. “He was so fucking adorable,” she began to slur.

“So this is about a guy?”

“It’s about a guy and a bitch.”

Ophelia rolled her eyes. She had heard enough jilted love stories to fill her lifetime, but there was something about Jessie that made her want to stay and listen.

Jessie’s story continued to include the bike gang they had joined and then quickly moved on to Team Rocket. “That’s where the bitch entered the picture. She was beautiful! I hated her! All the guys were after her–even Mr. Oliver, the Martial Arts instructor. But she didn’t want to have anything to do with them, the tease. All she wanted was to hang around my James.”

“And this ‘bitch’ stole him from you?” Ophelia deduced.

“Well… no. But she didn’t make my life any easier.” Jessie looked down at her empty glass and then back up at her new friend. Ophelia got the hint and gave her another drink, changing the proportions slightly to include more Mountain Dew, this time. “James and I still partied together, when we could, but I found he was spending most of his free time with her.”

“So he left you for her?”

“Did I mention that was when I found out he was gay?”

“Oh darling! I feel for you.”

“I always thought he was just shy around girls, but I never dreamed he was a flaming faggot. And now, we’re supposed to be field training her but she’s lost somewhere in the woods. Not that I mind… mind you, but we knew the Boss was gonna get mighty pissed if we didn’t find her.”

“Where is this James now?”

“Um, he’s lost too,” said Jessie, who was beginning to look a little ill, “and if I don’t find them both I’m gonna fry.”

Ophelia glanced at her watch. “Listen, I get off in a few minutes. How would you like me to walk with you back home. Then after you’ve sobered up some maybe I can help you look for your friends.”

“She’s not my friend!” Jessie wailed.

“Fine love, your friend and the ‘bitch’.”


Meanwhile, Giovanni was wishing he had someone to talk to. His secretary quit the second the two realized how many Jameses there were in Team Rocket. He was now knee-deep in file folders, cursing himself for not learning to use Windows 95.

“Persian!” he hollered as papers went flying up into the air. Persian was having a grand old time batting sheets of paper about. Sure, it probably would’ve been more fun had they’d been paper balls, but he wasn’t being picky.


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