All right, peoples! Something funny to read. I'll update the main story of this fic soon... yes... very soon... (Has a semi-evil voice.) (Gives a thumbs up) Now read and review, you slackers!

Psy Get's A Job! Chapter Uno!

"Okie dokes, you got ma smokes, Planky?"

A Spearow in sunglasses made an exasperated sight, tossed over a pack of... chilli peppers, and started dealing some playing cards to other bird Pokemon across a table set somewhere in Viridian City. "I'm tellin' ya, T-Wing, those things'll kill ya."

"Says who?" The Starly known as T-Wing said in a strangely deep voice.

"Says ya mother, now shut up or put up."

A HootHoot tossed down three aces as soon as everyone pulled up their cards. Spearow, T-Wing and a Murkrow all groaned.

"AND TO THE VICTOR GOES THE BIRDSEED!" Hoothoot little hooted. He made a very greedy grin. "So pass over—"

An explosion went off. The birds' card table flipped over and everyone fell out of their chair. The Murkrow got up wildly. "Smoly crap! What the hairpins was that?!"

Everyone froze to stare blankly at him. It took a moment before shaking his head, Spearow ordered. "Never... ever... do that again."


As they got up, they noticed their table had been inexplicably torn in two, and what was worse was that all the birdseed was gone.

Spearow looked over the tree top their table had been set up. "Hey, that came from mousy-boys place? I wonder what's going on...?"

Do you really need to ask where this is going?

At Swift's house, a gaping, smoking, fiery smelling hole was the newest renovation to the mouse's home. Two seconds later, Swift leapt out into the open, and started rolling on the ground hastily. His tail was aflame.

While he did so, cursing freely, Psy stepped out of the hole next, carrying a blackened dish. He was also blackened with soot and ash. He tasted some of the ash on the plate. "Tsk... no good, dude. It still needs seasoning."

"F*Beep!*k," Swift leapt up, the tip of his left ear still on fire so it matched the flame of anger in his eyes as he marched up to Psy. "That's IT! I am THROUGH with you staying at my house, eating all my snacks, playing all my video games, and blowing up all my stuff until you get an apartment of your own!"

"Dude, I pay rent!"


Psy shook his head. "Times are tough. There's a recession, dude."

Swift's eye twitched, and Psy knew he was a dead duck. "But—"

But before Psy could finish, there was a loud bang, flash of thunder, and a the fall of a even more crispy body. "Owwwww..."

It was midday after the catastrophe occurred, and all was quiet in Viridian Forest, save the constant pleas and desperate shouts coming from a certain Psyduck. Swift, still bearing charred fur and a ear that could resemble a candle, was resolutely dragging a bawling Psy through the forest.

"No, dude! Don't make me do it! You wouldn't do this to a friend, it's The Man making you do this, isn't it, dude?!"

Swift shook his head. "No. I do this of my own free will. You blew up my oven AND my kitchen trying to bake MY ketchup!" his voice was positively scathing.

"Accidents happen!"

"Shut up! You're getting a job so you can afford to live in a place that's not my carrot garden and living room."

"But my TV's in there!" Psy complained.

Swift stopped walking, a jolt of electricity electrocuted Psy, and he immediately dropped the duck. "HOW THE HELL CAN YOU AFFORD A TELEVISON!? YOU'RE BROKE!"

Psy rolled on the floor. "Can't feel my head..."

But luckily for Psy, Swift groaned and gave up, grabbing the Psyduck's foot and continued to drag him. "Whatever... I bet it was stolen... anyway, you'll be working..."

Swift suddenly stopped and dropped Psy again, this time on scratchy concrete. When the duck got up, the first thing he saw was...

"Get that order! If you drop another, I'll shot you!"

The voice echoed from the Burger King they stood before.

Psy's jaw dropped. "Say wha!? Dude—weren't we just in the forest?"

"I know a guy, " Swift ignored Psy, folding his arms and gazing at the worn down restaurant. "so he agreed to help you out with your first job."

Psy immediately dropped to his knee's in the begging position. "Please, dude! I know a guy who was institutionalized from working here!"

"So do I. He's your boss." Swift turned around and began walking back towards Viridian Forest. Psy just realized this restaurant took the place of the Pokemon Center that used to be here. "Remember, you owe me your first five pay-checks for kitchen repairs and emotional damage!"

And so he left.

Psy immediately started screaming after him in panic. "Come on, dude, I won't bake Ketchup Soufflé again, I swear it!"

But Swift was already gone.

"Crap, man..."

"So you're our new recruit? Crap, this sucks. You're fat."

Psy spun around. Standing at the door to the Burger King restaurant, was the famous Ash Ketchum. Just not as he's remembered. He was in his thirties, looked as if he didn't know what shaving was, wore a grease stained chef's apron, and bore a large pot-belly.

Psy pointed at him optimistically. "Dude, aren't you a Pokemon Trainer?"

Ash's eyes clouded. "I was... until Misty dumped me, Team Rocket stole Pikachu and Brock settled down after marrying May. But enough of that, come on in."

When Psy and Ash walked into Burger King, the Psyduck saw a guy huddled in a corner singing to himself, a drunk foot-ball team—they're back!—and two writers on laptops all seated at random tables and/or the floor.

"Dude, it smells like pig in here." Psy complained, "and that football guy is attacking your cash-holding-machine."

"The register?!"

Ash immediately dashed forward and brandished a pitchfork to shoo away the athlete. Immediately the rest of the team started to destroy the restaurant.

Ash waved. "Ah, don't worry, the insurance covers them."

Blinking in confusion, Psy was going to question that, but Ash placed a burger king hat on his head.

Psy stared at it. "No, dude! These mess up my baldness shine!"

"You're the cashier," He pointed at the steely grey register. "Now show me you know how to work math, use a calculator, add tax, rip customers, yadda yadda yadda..."

Psy blinked. "What's a register?"

"You'll do fine."

Ash left, and Psy was left to stare at the register behind the counter. Placing a paw to his temple, the duck began thinking, even though the doctor warned that would cause his headaches. Ah man, this sucks! I knew yellow-dude had no idea what he was doing when he got me into this... I mean, really, what IS math?! Hey, cool... I can hear ma thoughts... su-weeet...dude.

Psy eventually came to the conclusion he had to do something to get payed. He looked at the register... it was like it was staring at him... carefully, he extended a paw forward, gently tapped a few random buttons, hoping nothing would explode... then a click. Psy prepared to jump for cover or to die aful fiery explosion of death, but the register opened and there was money.

"Aw, cool! Money!" But a random gloved hand smacked away Psy's paw as he reached for the cash.

"Ah ah ah! You know the laws." Boomed the mysterious voice of Chaos (That's me!) from no where in particular.

Psy rubbed his hand reproachfully.

Just then, a random foot ball player stumbled up from the spot on the floor he was sleeping on. "GET HIT!"

"How can I help you, sir—" A football nailed Psy in the head and he immediately fell.

"Get the register!"

As Psy groaned, rolling back and forth on the floor and muttering something about a 'rash-bruise' the football players hastily ripped the cash register from its wires and ran off outside.

In the parking lot, a guy was waving frantically in a van. "Come on, hurry the hell up! Get in! Get in!"

The football team sped off, making its way down the street one block away where they ran into an old lady, sending her flying. They kept going anyway.

And Psy, now bearing a black-eye, got up and scratched his head. He looked around. He noticed the register was gone and only buzzing wires emitting sparks was left in its place. He walked to the managers room.

When he arrived, the room was dark, save the blue light from a television and was very messy. Ash was watching WWE.

"Come on–GET HIT!"

Psy instinctively ducked.

But then Ash groaned and slumped, deflated, back into his lazy-boy chair. "Aww... Undertaker, you suck." He took a sip of beer.

"Uh... boss-dude?" Psy interjected unsurely. "They, like, took the money-holding machine."

"The register?!" Ash immediately grabbed a pistol and Pokeball from a nearby shelf and ran after them. Psy wanted to stay and find out how a chick named Stephanie beat Undertaker, but a random pistol shot hi the television. Psy strolled off.

Back in the lobby, Ash was firing off round by the dozen, stopping to reload every so often, at the laptop guys, whom had taken cover under a table. The guy in the corner was still talking to himself undisturbed...

"Give it back!" Ash shouted over the gunfire. "Gimme ma money! YOU WON'T GET PIKACHU!"

The laptop guys just continued to helplessly cower in fear.

"I don't get it—what did we do? What's going on?" One wearing glasses cried.

"I told you we should've gone to Starbucks!" The second shouted.

"Hey, look on the bright side. Now we have something to write about."

A stray bullet hit the second guy's laptop. The power symbol went from green, to orange, to dead.

The one in glasses stared. "...One second thought..."


Psy blinked, this was getting weird. Then he decided to attend to some burning fries and helped himself to a customer's Whopper Jr. But Psy's face scrunched up at the first bite. "Bleck," He tapped a raging Ash on the shoulder to get his attention. "Dude, this burgers burnt." He noticed Ash's expression of sheer ranging insanity. "...Are... you okay?" Psy didn't seem to notice the fact that Ash was on a shooting spree.

"No!" Was Ash's answer. "Why weren't you guarding the register?! It was your most important job—I wrote that in the employee contract!"

Psy waved. "Pft! Like I read, dude."

Suddenly, the guy in the corner stood up. "...But it's only this once, Fred... no, Fred, I believe in peace, too..."

When he turned around, Psy and Ash saw he had a bomb strapped to his chest.

He grabbed a pull-string. "No, Fred—you're hurting me...!" Suddenly, he ran into the line of fire shouting in Arabic.

Ash raised an eyebrow. "What the–!?

Psy shouted, "DUCK!"

Then explosion blew out half of Ash's restaurant.

It was several moments before the smoke cleared enough to see, and Ash emerged coughing. Psy was sipping a Root Beer. When the smoke cleared, there was no more suicide bomber, the laptop guys were crying over their broken computers—hugging each other for comfort. Some random guy had a surprised expression with a face full of black dust. A cartoony jingle came from somewhere...

Ash stared in disbelief for a good three minutes. Then he rounded on Psy, glaring daggers at the duck as he ate another Whopper Jr.. "Now look what you've done, you little jerk! You've ruined me!"

"You ruined yourself, dude. Always control alcohol or it will control you." Psy answered.

But just as Ash was about to throttle the life outta Psy, a lawyer stepped in over the rubble. "Actually our Psyduck friend here is entitled payment for damages and emotional boo-boos sustained while on you're property, Mr. Ketchup."

"But he was only employed for two minutes!" Ash exclaimed incredulously.

"Well article 2/3.14 says it, so there." countered the lawyer.

Ash cried and Psy cheered. "Gnarly! Thanks a ton, awesome-guy-in-glasses!"

The lawyer poked his glasses in a very anime-ish fashion. "The name's Roll. Rick Roll.

"Thanks, John!"

"Very well, very well..." Rick waved. Then an idea hit him. "Say, since you are as of now unemployed, how would you like to be a lawyer's assistant?"

That wiped the smile of Psy's face. "Wait, I'm fired?"

Suddenly the old lady who had been hit by the drive-by football players speedily tip-toed up to Ash and kicked him swiftly in the groin. "Bad kitty! You are a very bad boy, Ashy!"

"Mother?!" Ash squeaked from the floor, holding his injured manhood.

Rick Roll stared. "Let's go."

But Psy looked torn. "W-wait!" He ran over to Ash, looking sympathetic.

Ash looked back at him and smiled. Even though they had only known each other for three minutes, even though he had yelled at the duck, he was still a loyal employee.

Psy looked at him with the saddest expression possible. "Why didn't you restock the mayonnaise packets, dude? Why, dude? Why?"

Leaving Ash stunned, he ran over, stole a Whopper Jr. from the counter, and returned to the lawyer. "Okay, I'm good."

The next chapter will be up when I fell like it. Laters!