RaccoonGoon
Vile Insect.
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- #161
originally written Feb. 11th, 2013
Dear reader. Here we are. Chapter the last. The last glimpse at our hero as told by me. So, let's settle in for one more go and one last chapter dealing with our trench coat wearing Looker.
Before we begin, I'll say this now and get it out of the way. I've tried my best to be a good narrator. You've been a swell audience, and I thank you very much. I hope we meet again one day. I'd be more than honored to tell you another tale. Stories are in my bones, you see, and I've enjoyed every second sharing this one with you all.
Now then, now that we're all settled, we shall continue with the last chapter by going back to where it all began.
----------
A thick stack of papers were neatly stapled and smoothed down. The gentleman who organized these papers was tall, thin, and had a good build, really. He had dark hair and a beard sprouted from his sideburns, framing his handsome face.
This man set the stack of papers in his briefcase, stood up, and said goodbye to his fellow office workers. His day of work was done. He left and stepped onto the hard concrete sidewalk and started to walk home. The man lived with his fourteen year old son who looked like him, with his mother's eyes. The man crossed the busy street.
The man's wife had went away when their child was terribly young, and it pained the father very much. The boy only remembered brief glances of his mother. But, it was what it was. It was autumn, getting a bit chilly. He should have worn his trench coat today instead of leaving it in the closet at home. It was what it was.
The office worker stopped by a news stand and bought the daily paper. He read the front page as he walked. Huh. A trading supply ship was going to be docked for a few days for a pit stop. That'd bring sailors into town. He remembered when a man named Drake was docked here. A whole tavern was over-turned and so many people were arrested for disorderly conduct. Drake, though, slipped out that night, quite drunk and quite happy.
He crossed the street and turned a corner. Almost home now. His son would be home from school by now and hopefully attending to his studies. The boy had asked for help in some subject the night before, but he was too busy doing paperwork to help his son. The man felt guilty afterward, of course. He'd give him a great big Ursaring hug when he got home and help him with whatever he needed help with.
----------
The son had gotten home about a half hour earlier. For a little while he had the house to himself. In this precious time before his dad got home he read or listened to the radio. However, for about a week now he had been pouring over a large, old, detailed map his dad owned. A map of the world. All of it. It was massive. He, in his mind, went to Hoenn one day, then Almia the next. He traced the Routes in Kanto with his finger. Today he was going over Sinnoh. Sinnoh seemed pretty big with a mountain dividing it in halves. Maybe he'd go there someday. Maybe he'd go to all these far-off places someday. That'd be nice.
He looked over at the front door. No sign of dad.
----------
A man with a stained grey sweater walked from the mill. He was angry, very angry. This man had just gotten fired from his job, that didn't pay much in the first place. This man had short nasty black hair and puffy eyes. As he was storming off it hit him: He barely had anything, save his smelly grey sweater. And the small pocket knife he used to open boxes at his prior job.
To him, it wasn't fair. To him, now everyone had more than he did. He was fuming now. The angry chap looked up from the sidewalk. Some stiff swinging a briefcase, reading the paper, and whistling. The man looked at his surroundings. Town houses and posh apartment complexes everywhere. This only made him see red.
The man with the paper was walking towards him. He probably had money.
----------
A voice boomed from behind the newspaper. The office worker folded it down, and there he was. A little man in a dirty sweater was holding a sharp knife at him, twitching around and walking a little closer.
"Give me your money, man. All of it, now!"
The business man jumped back, shocked at the mugger. The newspaper fell and hit the ground. The knife-wielder stepped on it, getting closer.
"Please, I don't really have that much. I'm a single parent, a-"
"Shut up! Shut up! Just give me whatever you have!"
The man set his briefcase down and began to take off his watch and fumble for his wallet, located in his back pocket.
"I'm just a salaryman, son. I don't know why you're doing this..."
The mugger retrieved the loot. The watch was nice enough. The crook stuffed in in his pocket. He opened the wallet with shaking fingers. It was slimmer than he expected, and only had one credit card in it. There was the man's ID, a picture of a young lady, and a picture of a boy, probably his son.
"There. Now please, put the knife away, please..."
This was barely anything. Barely worth the trouble of stealing. The crook didn't think it was possible to be this mad. He pocketed the small amount of money and flung the wallet by the briefcase.
"I'll put my knife away in your stupid guts!"
The crazed man sunk the blade three times into the office worker, in the lower rib area, plunging it into the area beneath his heart. Blood spewed out, staining the crook's hand more and more with each thrust. The office worker slumped against the wall, then down to the sidewalk.
Everything was going numb and he was suddenly cold. So very cold. Now he really wished he had his coat with him, But it was at home with his son. His son...
The thief, horrified at the bleeding man, ran off. He couldn't believe he had actually done that. He kept running.
The bleeding man pressed his hands over the wounds. That didn't help. The red liquid kept pouring out. He was getting colder and just wanted to get home and to hug his son and tell him he was a good kid that would go so far. He wished his son showed up with his coat and helped him put it on. His son was the only one he had left.
But the man's son didn't show up. A passing pedestrian did, however, who called an ambulance. It was too late,though. He knew it was. There was so much blood around him and he was so cold. The paramedics hoisted him onto a stretcher, one saying something he couldn't make out and the other doing their best to stop the bleeding.
He held his head up slightly and looked down the street before the ambulance door closed. Only a little ways from his home. His son. So close.
The emergency vehicle was now speeding towards the hospital. The people around him looked worried. He had to tell them about his son.
Tell my son...tell him where I'll be. You have to tell him..."
They assured him they'd alert his family.
----------
A siren sounded down the street then died off in the distance. The fourteen year old wondered who had gotten hurt. He looked up at the clock. Dad should have been home by now. Strange.
No big deal though, probably just stopping for a paper. He went back to the map, still focusing on the Sinnoh Region. He chose right then if he ever left home, he'd go there, no matter what it took.
----------
At the hospital the doctors did all they could do to stop the bleeding. They finally did, but the man had went into shock. They wrapped him and set him in bed. What if the eternal bleeding wouldn't stop? The man would be a goner.
The man wasn't cold anymore. Just numb and tired. He could barely keep his eyes open. Beeping was sounding from the monitoring machines next to him. The nurse urged him to go to sleep, to get some rest. He said he would as soon as he saw his son. The nurse promised that the boy had been sent for.
----------
Dad was very late. Where could he be? Somebody knocked on the door. There he was, surely. He'd asked why he was so late.
Only it wasn't dad. It was some stranger, looking concerned. The man informed the boy his father had been mugged and was in critical condition at the hospital, and that the boy should come with him right away.
----------
The man saw his son walk in. He had made it. The poor boy was too scared to grab his father's hand, and that was fine. The man probably couldn't hold his hand back anyway. He smiled. His son was there. They could see each other one last time.
This man's last want was to see his boy before he stopped breathing. He was cold again. The coldest he had ever been. He wish he was wearing his coat.
The boy was trying hard not to cry. Not in front of dad. Not in front of dad. Dad never cried, not even when he talked about mom. He never cried. Neither would he.
The dying man got one last good look at his only child. That was enough. He could go now. So he did. His eyes slowly shut, covering the boy in darkness. Seeing his father close his eyes the boy let the tears roll down his face.
The man's heart beat a few more hours until it stopped and he was dead.
You know what events happen next, a they were told at the very beginning, in the very first sentence of the story.
----------
His trench coat whipped in the brisk afternoon wind near his ankles...
----------
Now, I'm going to tell you something that may fall into the "impossible" category, but I assure you it really happened. You just have to trust me.
You remember our friend, the assassin, was heading towards International Police HQ, riding upon a mad Sharpedo. You also remember the small row boat that was rammed in half by the charging assassin. The fisherman lost grip of the Caterpie intended for bait. The small green creepy-crawly landed on a plank of ruined wood and floated away. The Caterpie stayed on the little raft and somehow, against all odds, against everything that should have sunk the little Pokemon's life boat, made it back to Kanto after many days and many nights. This Caterpie, back in it's natural habitat, crawled to Viridian Forest, finally back home. Eventually in evolved into a Metapod. It's favorite activity was annoying traveling trainers that explored the woods. It's favorite spot was a little grassy groove above a steep hill that led down to a den of Beedrill. The Beedrill hated being disturbed.
The mugger, now much older, had spent his life mugging some more and Region hopping until finally landing in Viridian. He spent his time bumming in front of the local Gym, which always seemed deserted. One man's job was simply telling trainers that the Gym Leader was away on business. The mugger would always be shoo'd away by this guard.
One day, however, when the mugger was loitering in front of the Gym, the Gym Leader returned for an unexpected check up. The Gym Leader was, of course, Giovanni. The man asked the mugger to please leave unless he was there to challenge him in a Pokemon battle. The mugger grimaced and spat on Giovanni's shiny shoes and asked
"Or what?"
Before anyone could blink a mighty Rhyhorn was standing before the mugger. This was enough persuasion for him. He ran as fast as he could into Viridian Forest.
He wasn't aware of where he was going. The trees were so thick in the woods and the grass was making him stumble. He ran and found himself atop a slope that fell into a deep foliage. There seemed to be a soft buzzing below him, but he didn't top to make sure.
Metapod saw the running man approaching and raised up. It looked like the man would kick or step on the Pokemon, so Metapod did the things Metapods do best. Used Harden. The Bug-Type tenses up, grew as hard as a stone, and waited. The mugger didn't see the Pokemon and slammed his whole foot into it.
He grabbed his foot, howled in pain, and toppled down the slope, right into a large colony of Beedrill. The Beedrill weren't too happy with the sudden guest. The man saw a flurry of black and yellow and felt hundreds of points pierce his flesh, his grey sweater offering little protection. More and more drills impaled him and the buzzing grew louder. Poison and toxin replaced his blood, which was flowing out of him from everywhere. He died a slow, very painful death covered in Beedrills.
The Metapod slacked up and laid back down in the grass. Eventually it would evolve into a Butterfree. It was a beautiful day in Viridian Forest. It was a beautiful day everywhere. It was beautiful.
----------
Now, dear reader, we've covered every character I planned to cover. It's only fitting we return to Looker.
----------
Looker has been on many cases and will surely be on many, many more. He loved his job and loved the difference he could potentially make. He was a very fulfilled man.
Let us imagine this final scene. Looker's office. His father's trench coat hanging on the coat rack, the sun setting low over the ocean through the window. Looker himself, trademark frown on his face, using his thumb and finger to scratch his chin. His feet propped up on his desk, next to a mug of coffee, and next to that Golbat's fang. Croagunk's orange cheek sacs slowly inflating, deflating, inflating, deflating, as he sits on the mini-fridge. Looker is reading some writing on his notepad, studying notes, preparing for his next mission. In the soft glow of light pouring in from the window behind him, he turns his chair around and looks out. He wished his parents could see him now. He wished he could see them. Croagunk keeps puffing his cheek sacs, inflating, deflating. He smiles. His name is Looker, that is what they call him.
Let this scene remind us and inspire us that no matter how cruel the world can be, no matter how hard it knocks you about the head that we all must pick ourselves up, dust off our pants, and keep going. No matter how bad our situation is we can still open our eyes and keep watch for a better situation. Why, one could say we could do what exactly what Looker did and keep looking towards a better day. Bravo Looker! Hurrah for Looker!
He had the right idea, friends. He kept a vigil on a silver lining, and that's what all of us must do, too. So please, dear reader, heed my words. Let Looker inspire us. Wait. Listen. Think. Open your eyes and watch for every opportunity.
Look.
--------------------
Fin. Chapter 40
"Look"
Chapter 40, Part the Last pt.2
by RaccoonGoon
Chapter 40, Part the Last pt.2
by RaccoonGoon
Dear reader. Here we are. Chapter the last. The last glimpse at our hero as told by me. So, let's settle in for one more go and one last chapter dealing with our trench coat wearing Looker.
Before we begin, I'll say this now and get it out of the way. I've tried my best to be a good narrator. You've been a swell audience, and I thank you very much. I hope we meet again one day. I'd be more than honored to tell you another tale. Stories are in my bones, you see, and I've enjoyed every second sharing this one with you all.
Now then, now that we're all settled, we shall continue with the last chapter by going back to where it all began.
----------
A thick stack of papers were neatly stapled and smoothed down. The gentleman who organized these papers was tall, thin, and had a good build, really. He had dark hair and a beard sprouted from his sideburns, framing his handsome face.
This man set the stack of papers in his briefcase, stood up, and said goodbye to his fellow office workers. His day of work was done. He left and stepped onto the hard concrete sidewalk and started to walk home. The man lived with his fourteen year old son who looked like him, with his mother's eyes. The man crossed the busy street.
The man's wife had went away when their child was terribly young, and it pained the father very much. The boy only remembered brief glances of his mother. But, it was what it was. It was autumn, getting a bit chilly. He should have worn his trench coat today instead of leaving it in the closet at home. It was what it was.
The office worker stopped by a news stand and bought the daily paper. He read the front page as he walked. Huh. A trading supply ship was going to be docked for a few days for a pit stop. That'd bring sailors into town. He remembered when a man named Drake was docked here. A whole tavern was over-turned and so many people were arrested for disorderly conduct. Drake, though, slipped out that night, quite drunk and quite happy.
He crossed the street and turned a corner. Almost home now. His son would be home from school by now and hopefully attending to his studies. The boy had asked for help in some subject the night before, but he was too busy doing paperwork to help his son. The man felt guilty afterward, of course. He'd give him a great big Ursaring hug when he got home and help him with whatever he needed help with.
----------
The son had gotten home about a half hour earlier. For a little while he had the house to himself. In this precious time before his dad got home he read or listened to the radio. However, for about a week now he had been pouring over a large, old, detailed map his dad owned. A map of the world. All of it. It was massive. He, in his mind, went to Hoenn one day, then Almia the next. He traced the Routes in Kanto with his finger. Today he was going over Sinnoh. Sinnoh seemed pretty big with a mountain dividing it in halves. Maybe he'd go there someday. Maybe he'd go to all these far-off places someday. That'd be nice.
He looked over at the front door. No sign of dad.
----------
A man with a stained grey sweater walked from the mill. He was angry, very angry. This man had just gotten fired from his job, that didn't pay much in the first place. This man had short nasty black hair and puffy eyes. As he was storming off it hit him: He barely had anything, save his smelly grey sweater. And the small pocket knife he used to open boxes at his prior job.
To him, it wasn't fair. To him, now everyone had more than he did. He was fuming now. The angry chap looked up from the sidewalk. Some stiff swinging a briefcase, reading the paper, and whistling. The man looked at his surroundings. Town houses and posh apartment complexes everywhere. This only made him see red.
The man with the paper was walking towards him. He probably had money.
----------
A voice boomed from behind the newspaper. The office worker folded it down, and there he was. A little man in a dirty sweater was holding a sharp knife at him, twitching around and walking a little closer.
"Give me your money, man. All of it, now!"
The business man jumped back, shocked at the mugger. The newspaper fell and hit the ground. The knife-wielder stepped on it, getting closer.
"Please, I don't really have that much. I'm a single parent, a-"
"Shut up! Shut up! Just give me whatever you have!"
The man set his briefcase down and began to take off his watch and fumble for his wallet, located in his back pocket.
"I'm just a salaryman, son. I don't know why you're doing this..."
The mugger retrieved the loot. The watch was nice enough. The crook stuffed in in his pocket. He opened the wallet with shaking fingers. It was slimmer than he expected, and only had one credit card in it. There was the man's ID, a picture of a young lady, and a picture of a boy, probably his son.
"There. Now please, put the knife away, please..."
This was barely anything. Barely worth the trouble of stealing. The crook didn't think it was possible to be this mad. He pocketed the small amount of money and flung the wallet by the briefcase.
"I'll put my knife away in your stupid guts!"
The crazed man sunk the blade three times into the office worker, in the lower rib area, plunging it into the area beneath his heart. Blood spewed out, staining the crook's hand more and more with each thrust. The office worker slumped against the wall, then down to the sidewalk.
Everything was going numb and he was suddenly cold. So very cold. Now he really wished he had his coat with him, But it was at home with his son. His son...
The thief, horrified at the bleeding man, ran off. He couldn't believe he had actually done that. He kept running.
The bleeding man pressed his hands over the wounds. That didn't help. The red liquid kept pouring out. He was getting colder and just wanted to get home and to hug his son and tell him he was a good kid that would go so far. He wished his son showed up with his coat and helped him put it on. His son was the only one he had left.
But the man's son didn't show up. A passing pedestrian did, however, who called an ambulance. It was too late,though. He knew it was. There was so much blood around him and he was so cold. The paramedics hoisted him onto a stretcher, one saying something he couldn't make out and the other doing their best to stop the bleeding.
He held his head up slightly and looked down the street before the ambulance door closed. Only a little ways from his home. His son. So close.
The emergency vehicle was now speeding towards the hospital. The people around him looked worried. He had to tell them about his son.
Tell my son...tell him where I'll be. You have to tell him..."
They assured him they'd alert his family.
----------
A siren sounded down the street then died off in the distance. The fourteen year old wondered who had gotten hurt. He looked up at the clock. Dad should have been home by now. Strange.
No big deal though, probably just stopping for a paper. He went back to the map, still focusing on the Sinnoh Region. He chose right then if he ever left home, he'd go there, no matter what it took.
----------
At the hospital the doctors did all they could do to stop the bleeding. They finally did, but the man had went into shock. They wrapped him and set him in bed. What if the eternal bleeding wouldn't stop? The man would be a goner.
The man wasn't cold anymore. Just numb and tired. He could barely keep his eyes open. Beeping was sounding from the monitoring machines next to him. The nurse urged him to go to sleep, to get some rest. He said he would as soon as he saw his son. The nurse promised that the boy had been sent for.
----------
Dad was very late. Where could he be? Somebody knocked on the door. There he was, surely. He'd asked why he was so late.
Only it wasn't dad. It was some stranger, looking concerned. The man informed the boy his father had been mugged and was in critical condition at the hospital, and that the boy should come with him right away.
----------
The man saw his son walk in. He had made it. The poor boy was too scared to grab his father's hand, and that was fine. The man probably couldn't hold his hand back anyway. He smiled. His son was there. They could see each other one last time.
This man's last want was to see his boy before he stopped breathing. He was cold again. The coldest he had ever been. He wish he was wearing his coat.
The boy was trying hard not to cry. Not in front of dad. Not in front of dad. Dad never cried, not even when he talked about mom. He never cried. Neither would he.
The dying man got one last good look at his only child. That was enough. He could go now. So he did. His eyes slowly shut, covering the boy in darkness. Seeing his father close his eyes the boy let the tears roll down his face.
The man's heart beat a few more hours until it stopped and he was dead.
You know what events happen next, a they were told at the very beginning, in the very first sentence of the story.
----------
His trench coat whipped in the brisk afternoon wind near his ankles...
----------
Now, I'm going to tell you something that may fall into the "impossible" category, but I assure you it really happened. You just have to trust me.
You remember our friend, the assassin, was heading towards International Police HQ, riding upon a mad Sharpedo. You also remember the small row boat that was rammed in half by the charging assassin. The fisherman lost grip of the Caterpie intended for bait. The small green creepy-crawly landed on a plank of ruined wood and floated away. The Caterpie stayed on the little raft and somehow, against all odds, against everything that should have sunk the little Pokemon's life boat, made it back to Kanto after many days and many nights. This Caterpie, back in it's natural habitat, crawled to Viridian Forest, finally back home. Eventually in evolved into a Metapod. It's favorite activity was annoying traveling trainers that explored the woods. It's favorite spot was a little grassy groove above a steep hill that led down to a den of Beedrill. The Beedrill hated being disturbed.
The mugger, now much older, had spent his life mugging some more and Region hopping until finally landing in Viridian. He spent his time bumming in front of the local Gym, which always seemed deserted. One man's job was simply telling trainers that the Gym Leader was away on business. The mugger would always be shoo'd away by this guard.
One day, however, when the mugger was loitering in front of the Gym, the Gym Leader returned for an unexpected check up. The Gym Leader was, of course, Giovanni. The man asked the mugger to please leave unless he was there to challenge him in a Pokemon battle. The mugger grimaced and spat on Giovanni's shiny shoes and asked
"Or what?"
Before anyone could blink a mighty Rhyhorn was standing before the mugger. This was enough persuasion for him. He ran as fast as he could into Viridian Forest.
He wasn't aware of where he was going. The trees were so thick in the woods and the grass was making him stumble. He ran and found himself atop a slope that fell into a deep foliage. There seemed to be a soft buzzing below him, but he didn't top to make sure.
Metapod saw the running man approaching and raised up. It looked like the man would kick or step on the Pokemon, so Metapod did the things Metapods do best. Used Harden. The Bug-Type tenses up, grew as hard as a stone, and waited. The mugger didn't see the Pokemon and slammed his whole foot into it.
He grabbed his foot, howled in pain, and toppled down the slope, right into a large colony of Beedrill. The Beedrill weren't too happy with the sudden guest. The man saw a flurry of black and yellow and felt hundreds of points pierce his flesh, his grey sweater offering little protection. More and more drills impaled him and the buzzing grew louder. Poison and toxin replaced his blood, which was flowing out of him from everywhere. He died a slow, very painful death covered in Beedrills.
The Metapod slacked up and laid back down in the grass. Eventually it would evolve into a Butterfree. It was a beautiful day in Viridian Forest. It was a beautiful day everywhere. It was beautiful.
----------
Now, dear reader, we've covered every character I planned to cover. It's only fitting we return to Looker.
----------
Looker has been on many cases and will surely be on many, many more. He loved his job and loved the difference he could potentially make. He was a very fulfilled man.
Let us imagine this final scene. Looker's office. His father's trench coat hanging on the coat rack, the sun setting low over the ocean through the window. Looker himself, trademark frown on his face, using his thumb and finger to scratch his chin. His feet propped up on his desk, next to a mug of coffee, and next to that Golbat's fang. Croagunk's orange cheek sacs slowly inflating, deflating, inflating, deflating, as he sits on the mini-fridge. Looker is reading some writing on his notepad, studying notes, preparing for his next mission. In the soft glow of light pouring in from the window behind him, he turns his chair around and looks out. He wished his parents could see him now. He wished he could see them. Croagunk keeps puffing his cheek sacs, inflating, deflating. He smiles. His name is Looker, that is what they call him.
Let this scene remind us and inspire us that no matter how cruel the world can be, no matter how hard it knocks you about the head that we all must pick ourselves up, dust off our pants, and keep going. No matter how bad our situation is we can still open our eyes and keep watch for a better situation. Why, one could say we could do what exactly what Looker did and keep looking towards a better day. Bravo Looker! Hurrah for Looker!
He had the right idea, friends. He kept a vigil on a silver lining, and that's what all of us must do, too. So please, dear reader, heed my words. Let Looker inspire us. Wait. Listen. Think. Open your eyes and watch for every opportunity.
Look.
--------------------
Fin. Chapter 40
Fin.
"Look", the Story of Looker
September 9, 2010 - February 11, 2013
"Look", the Story of Looker
September 9, 2010 - February 11, 2013
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