The Last Blast Off - A Pokeshipping Story

Chapter One

Chapter One:

"It was such a pleasure serving you. Come back soon!" the magenta haired waitress gushed, swiping the tip off the table and stashing it in her apron. She bustled to the next table, smiling cheerfully and remembering she needed a calm demeanor. As if. Her manager must be kidding himself to think she wasn't the epitome of etiquette and eloquence.

"Watch where you're going," she hissed, practically using Tackle on the waiter who rounded the same corner carrying a tray full of choice steak, lobster, and other things she wasn't sure she pronounced correctly. That was another thing her manager didn't particularly like about her. Not that she cared.

The blue haired man held back a yelp as the plates slid, almost toppling over the side. He managed to reorient them and sighed in relief.

"What's all that noise?" she heard sharply from the kitchen.

"Nothing," both said at the same time, hurrying away.

"You're going to get us both fired," Jessie snapped.

"You ran into me!"

"Next time make sure you go through the right door."

"I was on the right side."

Jessie resisted the urge to smack him. At least she got to see him tremble underneath the weight of the tray. "Don't mess this up. We need enough money for our Pikachu Project."

James was about to speak, but a small figure peeked out the door wearing a chef's hat. "What are ya doin' out there? Da boss is getting Durantsy."

"You get back to work. And stop burning the food," Jessie said with venom. Meowth muttered to himself, careful not to catch his tail in the door as he went back into the kitchen.

"Jessie?"

"Yeah?" She was busy thinking about her tables and looked to find her apprehensive partner. "What is it, James? Spit it out."

"Don't you think we've been at this too long?"

"We have been working overtime. You know it's all about the money."

"No. I mean with Ash. I mean, the brat," he corrected himself hurriedly at Jessie's narrowed eyes. "It's almost been eleven years. He's not even traveling around anymore."

"He's just taking a break," Jessie said offhandedly, pulling out her tips of the day to begin to count them.

"It's been a very long break."

"Which makes it easier to follow him around and hold down jobs." Jessie grinned wickedly, waving the money in James' face.

He looked down, arms trembling from the weight of the tray. "I suppose. I only thought—"

"Why are you two chatting!?" A man peeked from the kitchen, mustache bristling in anger.

James and Jessie sped off in different directions, obeying every whim of their customers. Just as told, smiles and all. But James was feeling particularly melancholy, like a bottle cap that hadn't been shined and given its due attention. One that was a bit deformed and knew it was supposed to fit on a bottle, but would never be able to embrace its home again.

He tried to figure out what was bothering him. The anniversary was coming up, really. It was September after all. When was it again that they first tried to capture Pikachu? September twelfth? Fourteenth? Seventh? No, the seventh was yesterday. Was it the eighth?

If it was today, I'm sure Jessie or Meowth would have remembered. It's not as if we don't use any excuse to celebrate, however depressing it may be, James thought sullenly.