Categories > Anime/Manga > Pokemon > Stanford
A/N: Oh dammit, mistake, it can take up to 75 hours to digest food…. XD I also saw a typo in the previous chapter… hope no one noticed… XD. Oh yeah the part with the person almost performing an autopsy (not going to spoil it) is a reference to House.
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Chapter 36
“I saved you two some lunch, would you like some?” I asked.
“Ooh… what is it, huh Émile?” Gage looked straight into my eyes.
“I can say, ‘it’s your favourite’,” I grinned.
“I have too many favourites though…,” he shrugged.
“It’s apple fritters,” I patted him on the back. “I know how much you love them.”
His eyes glowed. “Of course…”
“Come on in, make yourself home Dad, Gage.”
“I can’t believe it’s-it’s my dad…,” Jade stared at him. We all walked to the kitchen and sat down.
“I was so worried about you Jade and Stan,” he looked at both of them. “You know I thought about you both every single day… even when I heard you were a part of Team Galactic… my heart broke but I still loved you two.” We were all silent for probably five minutes.
“Say, where’s your wife?” I asked Gage, breaking the silence.
“Oh she couldn’t come, she has too many patients,” he replied.
“That’s too bad…,” I sighed.
“So… how’s your… genitals?” He sneered.
I growled and got up. “I thought I told you not to speak of that again,” I picked him up. “You hear me, Gage?” He nodded slightly. “You mention that again and I’ll punch your head into your neck, you got that?” He nodded again and I set him back down. I sat back down. “S-sorry…” Everyone blinked.
“Dad… I’m curious as to what happened next in your flashback,” Stan asked. “I love hearing your stories… especially the fact that I could never tell any…”
“Are you saying I’m better than you?” I blinked. He nodded. “Fine,” I cleared my throat.
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Flashback, about 6 years ago…
“Émile… wake up, it’s 7:30…,” Boss shook me.
“Huh…,” I mumbled and woke up. I woke up to a puddle of drool on my desk. “Damn.”
“I see you drooled once again…”
“Yeah… I’ll clean it up…,” I mentally groaned.
“Thanks, you have a lot of work to do. I’ll see you at lunch time,” he walked off.
“Good morning Émile!” Rico said happily.
“Hey Rico, how are you?” I grinned and wiped off my drool with a paper towel. “I drooled again…,” I chuckled.
“I see that, I wonder why you do that,” he chuckled along with me.
I shrugged. “I wouldn’t even begin to know.” My cell phone rang. “Huh?” I picked it up to see it was Dad. “Hello?”
“We’re almost done with the house out here in Pewter City, we’re just wondering if you could stop by… I’m just wondering which of you would like to own it.”
“Dad, I’m at work, I can’t come by today but I can come by tomorrow.”
“Oh all right, tomorrow is Saturday, come by whenever you can.”
“I’ll ask my boss if I have to work tomorrow or not. I’ll try.”
“All right hon, I love you, goodbye,” he chuckled.
“Bye, I love you too,” I hung up. “That was my dad,” I looked up at Rico.
“Right, I’m going to do some work now, I’ll see you later.”
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About 16 hours later…
“Jesus Christ, Émile, it’s 4:00 AM!” Rico blinked and rubbed his eyes.
“Yeah… I know; I just have to finish this case… I must solve it… if I don’t solve it… I’ll regret it… for… the rest of my life…,” I replied drowsily. I yawned. “Ugh… I’m going down to the dreaded morgue that makes me vomit… I have to tell the main person down there that I think I know how this… person died…”
“Oh? How did he die?”
“He died via suicide, I mean, it’s the only thing I can think… of…,” I yawned again. “So why are you here?”
“I was just going to the bathroom and I happened to pass by and see that you are still awake,” he replied, yawning too (I swear it’s contagious).
“Oh, all right…,” I said half-asleep. “Hey you’re going to the bathroom too, right? Well, wait for me,” I drowsily got up. “Please.”
“All right Émile, come along then.” We both walked to the bathroom.
“Ugh…,” I groaned. As usual, it hurt. It hurt like shit. I take ibuprofen, but it never works – it just drains out like a leak in the bottom of a boat.
“Émile… are you OK?” Rico looked at me funny.
“I’m fine…,” I sighed.
“D-does it always h-hurt…?”
“Yes it does…”
“You should go to the doctor…”
“Doctors never help me, nor does ibuprofen!” I tutted and sighed. “Nor is it an enlarged prostate, I can guarantee you that. I know because I know the symptoms of it. This is a very touchy subject; I don’t like talking about my penis and how it hurts every time I take a piss.”
“Oh… I see… I won’t ask you again then…” We both walked out.
“I would appreciate that, thank you very much. I’ll see you later,” I waved.
“Bye Émile, hope you survive the morgue without vomiting! Have a nice sleep too!”
“Thank you Rico, you too,” I smiled.
“Thanks bud and you’re welcome,” he waved.
I dreaded going to the morgue. It smells like shit, piss, vomit, blood, whatever other words describe the human body. I walked back to my desk to pick up the tox screen results. His heroin levels were off the charts. “My God… I cannot believe the levels of heroin in his system…,” I looked at the paper. “Whoa, whoa, whoa… –! What is this? His copper and calcium levels are off the charts, too,” I found a nose plug on my desk and I put it on. I hurriedly ran down the hall and down two flights of stairs. I was out of breath and I nearly collapsed. I had made it to the morgue.
The person in charge there (whom is a night owl, too), Tory looked me funny. “Tory, I have your tox screen results,” I said nasally.
“Émile… Why… are you wearing a nose plug?” He furrowed his brow. “Oh that’s right!”
“Yeah… I don’t think you want me to vomit,” I handed him the tox screen results. His jaw dropped.
“Whoa…!” He blinked. “I was about to perform an autopsy on him, want to watch?”
“Uhh… no th-thanks…,” I was getting sick just thinking about it.
“All right then,” he took out his saw and began to cut a ‘y-incision’. “Oh my God… why is he bleeding…?” I just had to turn around to see this. The person on the autopsy table began to scream and it scared the fuck out of both of us – so we fainted.
“Pupils are responding…” I woke up to a bright light shining in both of my eyes.
“Ahh… what the hell, Tory…?” I groaned and sat up. I noticed I was on an autopsy table… and that my nose plug was gone. “Tory, why did you take away my nose plug?” I had to hold my nose myself. “You know I’m going to vomit if you don’t give it back, please.”
“But you were out cold and I was worried that you were having trouble breathing.”
“Oh dammit Tory, I feel like shit now… just give it back please, I’m tired sounding nasally and holding my hand up like this.”
“OK here you go…,” he handed it back to me. I jumped off the table and put it on.
“Thank you,” I sighed. “I thought I was going to upchuck… what time is it?”
“It’s already 5:15,” he looked at his watch.
“OK, well I’m going back to my office so I can sleep longer. Bye Tory… I don’t know when I’ll see you next.”
“Umm… you wet yourself when you fainted.”
“I what…?!” I turned around. “Thank Goddddd for lockers! Hmph,” I groaned. “Bye Tory,” I walked out.
“Bye Émile…,” he twitched slightly. I’m very easily annoyed and tend to get very irritated from the lack of sleep. I finally made it out of the area of the morgue and took off the nose plug. I left out a huge sigh… but Tory was right I did piss myself. “Damn…,” I groaned. I stopped by my locker and got another pair of clothes.
“Boo…!” Rico jumped at me.
“Ahh…! Rico please don’t… I’ve already gotten a heart attack and wet myself…”
“Damn you scare so easily…! So what happened to you?”
“I was taking the tox screen results to Tory when I was about to leave (mainly because he want to do an autopsy and those make me vomit, as usual) and he says ‘Oh my God… why is he bleeding…?’… I turn around to see the person on the autopsy table screaming his head off, that made us both faint… I don’t know why I fainted… I guess it’s just I expect a dead person to be DEAD! I apparently wet myself when it happened,” I started walking to the bathroom.
“You sure have urinated a lot,” he said sarcastically.
“I had to drink four Dr Peppers to stay awake…,” I grumbled. “As you know, they make you piss a lot.”
“Muahaha… that was a good one Émile,” he chuckled. “I’ll see you later.”
“Bye Rico, hope you can more sleep.”
“Bye Émile!” He waved and walked off.
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About a month later (A/N: Sorry… the website that has Japanese episodes with English subtitles doesn’t have DP150-2 yet… and this is just about two weeks after he bails them out and tries to end his life)
“Sorry Dad… I’ve been busy… how is the house coming along?”
“Oh it’s doing great… you should come out,” he replied. “So how is your arm and wrist doing?”
“Oh… it really still hurts… bad. What gets me is the pain… nothing seems to work…,” I sighed.
“Are you going to come out soon?”
“Yeah, sure thing; in fact, I might ask my boss right now. I’ll call you back, all right?” I hung up and walked to my boss’s office. The pain was excoriating. I’ve thrown up twice because of this; so I keep a trashcan at my desk at all times. I read about pain and that severe pain can cause vomiting. The doctors had said that I had cut clean through muscle and all the way to the bone, leaving a scratch on my radius and ulna (the two bones in the arm – where they met at the top – because they split into two bones just after the elbow and up to the wrist). How I lived, doctors aren’t too sure. That is exactly what they said when I was slashed by that intruder. I guess I must be a survivor… it runs in my genes. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention, after I had cut myself, I had accidentally tripped and broke my arm. I finally after five excoriating minutes, I had finally made it to Boss’s office.
“Boss…,” I knocked on the glass. “Boss…,” I said weakly. “I feel like crap please… answer…,” I felt faint.
“Yes, Émile?” He finally opened the door.
“I just got off the phone with my dad… he’s wondering if I could please take off so I could go see him… plus I want to order the first season of CSI: Crime Scene Investigation on DVD…”
“Hell yeah Émile, go, you look like shit with your pale face and your red eyes… are you all right?”
“The pain… is beyond unbearable…,” I groaned and sighed forcibly.
“Have-have you been crying…?” he looked at me funny.
“Y-yeah…,” I nodded weakly.
“Go home… rest… take a week off if you need to, you certainly deserve it,” he patted the top of my head.
“T-thank you…,” I wasn’t sure what to say. “I’ll see you later.”
“Bye Émile, have a nice break.”
“Thanks, bye,” I waved and walked off.
I couldn’t afford to get seasick, so I decided to go on Staraptor’s back. I fell asleep on his back. I felt a soft jolt as Staraptor landed on the ground. “Huh…,” I rubbed my eyes (with only one hand…) and noticed that he had landed right in front of the house. “Thank you,” I returned him.
“Ah…! There’s my boy!” Dad laughed. “It’s so great to see you’re alive!” He hugged me tightly.
“Big brother…!” Gage hugged and tackled me.
I gagged. “G-guys… I don’t feel very good… please let go…”
“Oh… sorry,” the two said in unison and let go.
“How would you like to come up here and show you what I’ve done so far?” Dad asked.
“Ooh I would love to,” I nodded. The two smiled and I followed them. I smiled as I walked up the makeshift steps and up the supports that were on the outside of the house. I loved what Dad was doing so far – the insulation had been put on perfectly along with the wooden wall studs, too. Even the all of the windows were perfectly even.
“I take it you like what I have done, don’t you?” Dad smiled.
“Yes I have, it’s so beautiful,” I grinned. “All of the insulation, the studs, the framework, and the windows… all so beautifully placed.”
“Haha… thank you so much, Émile,” he grinned. “Now I’m wondering who should buy the house…,” he looked at me.
“I was thinking about buying it,” I shrugged. “…That’s OK if you don’t want me to.”
“Nah… I insist…”
“Oh… really… I mean, I don’t think I can afford it,” I wasn’t sure what to say.
“Émile… you’ve always wanted a house outside the city… I seriously insist.”
“No Dad… I think Gage should buy it…,” I looked over at Gage; whom was nailing down more studs. “Looking good, Gage!” I called.
“Thanks big brother!” He called back.
“No problem!” I grinned.
“Anyway… I have a better idea… maybe you should both own it?”
“B-both of us…? Really? I don’t think that’s such a great idea… I mean, I love my brother, but I think he’s a bit eccentric…”
“I hate to say it but I insist…”
“Would you stop using that please?” I tutted. “It’s getting annoying, no offence,” I heard a loud noise; it caused me to jump out of my skin and fall over backwards – Splat! – was the noise I heard when I landed on a steel rebar. “D-dad…,” I screamed. “Dad…!!! Dad help, help!” I looked at the rebar and saw something pinkish on it. “I think I’m going to be sick… and I think I’m going to f-faint…” I could just barely see Dad and Gage running up to me.
“Émile… I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have used that nail gun…,” Gage looked at me sadly.
“It-it hurts…,” I think I had tears run down my face. I had never been so scared in my life. I looked over at Dad; calling 9-1-1… I was in and out of consciousness… I could feel blood draining from me. “Yeah I’m going to be sick…” I had never been so sick in my life. I had two no three, external forces against me: the rebar and the spot where I cut myself deeply, and because I got slightly burnt by Jupiter’s Skuntank… but that was starting to heal. “Gage… if you ever see Cassidy… tell her I love her… I love you Gage… I love you Dad… ugh…,” I groaned. “I’m never, ever making shish kebab again in my life…,” I weakly looked up at Gage.
“Émile… why are you talking like that?!” He looked at me and rubbed my hair.
“Gage you’re gonna regret this but…,” I accidentally coughed up blood on him. I fainted…. I was out cold for what seemed like hours until I woke up in an ambulance. I was sitting up because the steel rebar was still in me, within good reason; because if they had taken it out, I would have bled to death and because the rebar blocked the blood vessels that were bleeding. I also looked at my nose to see I had one of those breathing masks on. I felt sick… really sick. I tried to take it off but they stopped me.
“Mmm,” I mumbled.
“Yes?” One of the paramedics asked.
“Mmm!” I pointed to the breathing mask.
“You want to say something?” said another paramedic. I nodded. “OK then,” he took the mask off.
“Please give me an anti-emetic,” I said weakly. Anti-emetics are used to stop vomiting. “I-I feel very sick…”
“Sure thing, can you swallow?”
“I don’t think I can…,” I groaned. “Just inject me with it.”
“Actually, we’re at the hospital… we’re going to put you under surgery ASAP…”
“OK… I guess I’ll just sleep then…,” I closed my eyes.
I could hear voices as I was being anaesthetised “Wow he’s so lucky… this rebar just barely missed his heart…”
“I know… except it pierced through his lung, but it just barely missed the right pulmonary artery…”
“He’s also lucky because it just went straight between the third and fourth rib, it’s not even cracked.”
“Lucky…,” I mumbled and I was out cold.
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“Émile… wake up,” Dad said calmly.
“Huh…” I woke up and the second I did, the pain hit me like a jet impacting me. “Shit…”
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A week later…
I stumbled into Boss’s office. “Boss…,” I said weakly. I had seen another gruesome crime scene.
“Yes?” He looked at me.
“I was wondering if I could take a break…”
“Again, Émile?” He looked at me. “Oh never mind… you look like shit, again.”
“Thank you,” I limped off, out of his office. I walked outside into the fresh September air. “There’s another thing I’ve always wanted to do…,” I smirked. Despite having one arm to work with, I was able to get my wallet out, and I opened it up to see that I had $1234 even. “Huh, that’s an odd combination…,” I limped off. I walked past ‘Farfetch’d Pond’ and it caught my eye – the Veilstone Game Corner. “There we are, I’ve always wanted to try my luck at gambling,” I slowly walked in… I hadn’t played poker in a casino before.
“Welcome sir,” said a man sitting at the table.
“Hey there,” several others replied.
“Hi,” I sat down.
“How much do you have that you will you bet?” the person at the end of the table asked (I think they’re called a dealer). Damn, she was hot.
“I only have $1234,” I replied.
“Fine, toss it in,” she purred. She must have thought the same thing: I was attractive. I nodded and tossed in 100s, 10s, 5s and 1s. They started to deal. She handed me $1234 worth of chips.
“Which kind of poker is this?” I asked.
“Texas hold’em,” she replied. I had never played it, but I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to play.
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“Damn he’s winning,” a man grumbled. They were talking about me. I had won $1200 already.
“Mind if we call you ‘Radiant Ace’?” asked another.
“No problem at all,” I grinned. I had bet $400. “Four of a kind,” I flipped over my cards.
“Straight flush,” said another. I had lost it.
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I kept losing, just after I had a winning streak. Until I bet the last of my money, I couldn’t believe it… I had won $5000.
…And only to be lost after a few more games.
Sighing, I sat down in a chair in the park near the ‘Farfetch’d Pond’. I stared at the ground and looked up because Rico just happened to be standing next to me. “Rico…?” I looked up, slightly startled. “Hey there,” I said blankly.
“Is there something wrong?” He sat down next to me.
“I went to Veilstone Game Corner and I lost $6234,” I sighed again. “How could I be so dumb? I must be the stupidest, flightiest, most sensitive, bulimic person in the world…”
He got up and put his hands on my shoulders. “Émile what the fuck are you talking about?!” He shook me.
“Ohh… shit Rico… d-don’t do that…”
He stopped and looked at me funny. “Damn, you are sensitive…”
I nodded and shrugged. “My life seems empty…”
Rico did the ‘crazy’ gesture. “Émile, you’re being a real idiot right now –”
“Yes Rico, thank you very much, I appreciate that. If you’ll excuse me, I have to go home and eat something. By the way Rico, I could probably kick your ass despite being injured… but not right now…,” I wheezed and coughed. “I can barely breathe.”
“Oh… maybe you should go home then.”
“That’s what I was doing…”
“Bye Émile, sorry for doing that…”
“It’s OK Rico, bye,” I waved and limped home, coughing and wheezing.
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Present
“That’s just about as much as I can remember…”
“Wow…,” we all mumbled.
We were quite quiet for a while, not really saying much. Stan seemingly stuffed his face with my delicious fritters…
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A/N: so there you go. Oh yeah, there’s something Stan missed when he looked at Émile’s belly, Émile not only suffers from the obvious, but something else, as you will find out in the next chapter. BTW, I'm just as sensitive as him. I don't know how I can keep down my food though; I tend to get motion sickness and I'm get grossed out easily, too.
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Chapter 36
“I saved you two some lunch, would you like some?” I asked.
“Ooh… what is it, huh Émile?” Gage looked straight into my eyes.
“I can say, ‘it’s your favourite’,” I grinned.
“I have too many favourites though…,” he shrugged.
“It’s apple fritters,” I patted him on the back. “I know how much you love them.”
His eyes glowed. “Of course…”
“Come on in, make yourself home Dad, Gage.”
“I can’t believe it’s-it’s my dad…,” Jade stared at him. We all walked to the kitchen and sat down.
“I was so worried about you Jade and Stan,” he looked at both of them. “You know I thought about you both every single day… even when I heard you were a part of Team Galactic… my heart broke but I still loved you two.” We were all silent for probably five minutes.
“Say, where’s your wife?” I asked Gage, breaking the silence.
“Oh she couldn’t come, she has too many patients,” he replied.
“That’s too bad…,” I sighed.
“So… how’s your… genitals?” He sneered.
I growled and got up. “I thought I told you not to speak of that again,” I picked him up. “You hear me, Gage?” He nodded slightly. “You mention that again and I’ll punch your head into your neck, you got that?” He nodded again and I set him back down. I sat back down. “S-sorry…” Everyone blinked.
“Dad… I’m curious as to what happened next in your flashback,” Stan asked. “I love hearing your stories… especially the fact that I could never tell any…”
“Are you saying I’m better than you?” I blinked. He nodded. “Fine,” I cleared my throat.
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Flashback, about 6 years ago…
“Émile… wake up, it’s 7:30…,” Boss shook me.
“Huh…,” I mumbled and woke up. I woke up to a puddle of drool on my desk. “Damn.”
“I see you drooled once again…”
“Yeah… I’ll clean it up…,” I mentally groaned.
“Thanks, you have a lot of work to do. I’ll see you at lunch time,” he walked off.
“Good morning Émile!” Rico said happily.
“Hey Rico, how are you?” I grinned and wiped off my drool with a paper towel. “I drooled again…,” I chuckled.
“I see that, I wonder why you do that,” he chuckled along with me.
I shrugged. “I wouldn’t even begin to know.” My cell phone rang. “Huh?” I picked it up to see it was Dad. “Hello?”
“We’re almost done with the house out here in Pewter City, we’re just wondering if you could stop by… I’m just wondering which of you would like to own it.”
“Dad, I’m at work, I can’t come by today but I can come by tomorrow.”
“Oh all right, tomorrow is Saturday, come by whenever you can.”
“I’ll ask my boss if I have to work tomorrow or not. I’ll try.”
“All right hon, I love you, goodbye,” he chuckled.
“Bye, I love you too,” I hung up. “That was my dad,” I looked up at Rico.
“Right, I’m going to do some work now, I’ll see you later.”
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About 16 hours later…
“Jesus Christ, Émile, it’s 4:00 AM!” Rico blinked and rubbed his eyes.
“Yeah… I know; I just have to finish this case… I must solve it… if I don’t solve it… I’ll regret it… for… the rest of my life…,” I replied drowsily. I yawned. “Ugh… I’m going down to the dreaded morgue that makes me vomit… I have to tell the main person down there that I think I know how this… person died…”
“Oh? How did he die?”
“He died via suicide, I mean, it’s the only thing I can think… of…,” I yawned again. “So why are you here?”
“I was just going to the bathroom and I happened to pass by and see that you are still awake,” he replied, yawning too (I swear it’s contagious).
“Oh, all right…,” I said half-asleep. “Hey you’re going to the bathroom too, right? Well, wait for me,” I drowsily got up. “Please.”
“All right Émile, come along then.” We both walked to the bathroom.
“Ugh…,” I groaned. As usual, it hurt. It hurt like shit. I take ibuprofen, but it never works – it just drains out like a leak in the bottom of a boat.
“Émile… are you OK?” Rico looked at me funny.
“I’m fine…,” I sighed.
“D-does it always h-hurt…?”
“Yes it does…”
“You should go to the doctor…”
“Doctors never help me, nor does ibuprofen!” I tutted and sighed. “Nor is it an enlarged prostate, I can guarantee you that. I know because I know the symptoms of it. This is a very touchy subject; I don’t like talking about my penis and how it hurts every time I take a piss.”
“Oh… I see… I won’t ask you again then…” We both walked out.
“I would appreciate that, thank you very much. I’ll see you later,” I waved.
“Bye Émile, hope you survive the morgue without vomiting! Have a nice sleep too!”
“Thank you Rico, you too,” I smiled.
“Thanks bud and you’re welcome,” he waved.
I dreaded going to the morgue. It smells like shit, piss, vomit, blood, whatever other words describe the human body. I walked back to my desk to pick up the tox screen results. His heroin levels were off the charts. “My God… I cannot believe the levels of heroin in his system…,” I looked at the paper. “Whoa, whoa, whoa… –! What is this? His copper and calcium levels are off the charts, too,” I found a nose plug on my desk and I put it on. I hurriedly ran down the hall and down two flights of stairs. I was out of breath and I nearly collapsed. I had made it to the morgue.
The person in charge there (whom is a night owl, too), Tory looked me funny. “Tory, I have your tox screen results,” I said nasally.
“Émile… Why… are you wearing a nose plug?” He furrowed his brow. “Oh that’s right!”
“Yeah… I don’t think you want me to vomit,” I handed him the tox screen results. His jaw dropped.
“Whoa…!” He blinked. “I was about to perform an autopsy on him, want to watch?”
“Uhh… no th-thanks…,” I was getting sick just thinking about it.
“All right then,” he took out his saw and began to cut a ‘y-incision’. “Oh my God… why is he bleeding…?” I just had to turn around to see this. The person on the autopsy table began to scream and it scared the fuck out of both of us – so we fainted.
“Pupils are responding…” I woke up to a bright light shining in both of my eyes.
“Ahh… what the hell, Tory…?” I groaned and sat up. I noticed I was on an autopsy table… and that my nose plug was gone. “Tory, why did you take away my nose plug?” I had to hold my nose myself. “You know I’m going to vomit if you don’t give it back, please.”
“But you were out cold and I was worried that you were having trouble breathing.”
“Oh dammit Tory, I feel like shit now… just give it back please, I’m tired sounding nasally and holding my hand up like this.”
“OK here you go…,” he handed it back to me. I jumped off the table and put it on.
“Thank you,” I sighed. “I thought I was going to upchuck… what time is it?”
“It’s already 5:15,” he looked at his watch.
“OK, well I’m going back to my office so I can sleep longer. Bye Tory… I don’t know when I’ll see you next.”
“Umm… you wet yourself when you fainted.”
“I what…?!” I turned around. “Thank Goddddd for lockers! Hmph,” I groaned. “Bye Tory,” I walked out.
“Bye Émile…,” he twitched slightly. I’m very easily annoyed and tend to get very irritated from the lack of sleep. I finally made it out of the area of the morgue and took off the nose plug. I left out a huge sigh… but Tory was right I did piss myself. “Damn…,” I groaned. I stopped by my locker and got another pair of clothes.
“Boo…!” Rico jumped at me.
“Ahh…! Rico please don’t… I’ve already gotten a heart attack and wet myself…”
“Damn you scare so easily…! So what happened to you?”
“I was taking the tox screen results to Tory when I was about to leave (mainly because he want to do an autopsy and those make me vomit, as usual) and he says ‘Oh my God… why is he bleeding…?’… I turn around to see the person on the autopsy table screaming his head off, that made us both faint… I don’t know why I fainted… I guess it’s just I expect a dead person to be DEAD! I apparently wet myself when it happened,” I started walking to the bathroom.
“You sure have urinated a lot,” he said sarcastically.
“I had to drink four Dr Peppers to stay awake…,” I grumbled. “As you know, they make you piss a lot.”
“Muahaha… that was a good one Émile,” he chuckled. “I’ll see you later.”
“Bye Rico, hope you can more sleep.”
“Bye Émile!” He waved and walked off.
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About a month later (A/N: Sorry… the website that has Japanese episodes with English subtitles doesn’t have DP150-2 yet… and this is just about two weeks after he bails them out and tries to end his life)
“Sorry Dad… I’ve been busy… how is the house coming along?”
“Oh it’s doing great… you should come out,” he replied. “So how is your arm and wrist doing?”
“Oh… it really still hurts… bad. What gets me is the pain… nothing seems to work…,” I sighed.
“Are you going to come out soon?”
“Yeah, sure thing; in fact, I might ask my boss right now. I’ll call you back, all right?” I hung up and walked to my boss’s office. The pain was excoriating. I’ve thrown up twice because of this; so I keep a trashcan at my desk at all times. I read about pain and that severe pain can cause vomiting. The doctors had said that I had cut clean through muscle and all the way to the bone, leaving a scratch on my radius and ulna (the two bones in the arm – where they met at the top – because they split into two bones just after the elbow and up to the wrist). How I lived, doctors aren’t too sure. That is exactly what they said when I was slashed by that intruder. I guess I must be a survivor… it runs in my genes. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention, after I had cut myself, I had accidentally tripped and broke my arm. I finally after five excoriating minutes, I had finally made it to Boss’s office.
“Boss…,” I knocked on the glass. “Boss…,” I said weakly. “I feel like crap please… answer…,” I felt faint.
“Yes, Émile?” He finally opened the door.
“I just got off the phone with my dad… he’s wondering if I could please take off so I could go see him… plus I want to order the first season of CSI: Crime Scene Investigation on DVD…”
“Hell yeah Émile, go, you look like shit with your pale face and your red eyes… are you all right?”
“The pain… is beyond unbearable…,” I groaned and sighed forcibly.
“Have-have you been crying…?” he looked at me funny.
“Y-yeah…,” I nodded weakly.
“Go home… rest… take a week off if you need to, you certainly deserve it,” he patted the top of my head.
“T-thank you…,” I wasn’t sure what to say. “I’ll see you later.”
“Bye Émile, have a nice break.”
“Thanks, bye,” I waved and walked off.
I couldn’t afford to get seasick, so I decided to go on Staraptor’s back. I fell asleep on his back. I felt a soft jolt as Staraptor landed on the ground. “Huh…,” I rubbed my eyes (with only one hand…) and noticed that he had landed right in front of the house. “Thank you,” I returned him.
“Ah…! There’s my boy!” Dad laughed. “It’s so great to see you’re alive!” He hugged me tightly.
“Big brother…!” Gage hugged and tackled me.
I gagged. “G-guys… I don’t feel very good… please let go…”
“Oh… sorry,” the two said in unison and let go.
“How would you like to come up here and show you what I’ve done so far?” Dad asked.
“Ooh I would love to,” I nodded. The two smiled and I followed them. I smiled as I walked up the makeshift steps and up the supports that were on the outside of the house. I loved what Dad was doing so far – the insulation had been put on perfectly along with the wooden wall studs, too. Even the all of the windows were perfectly even.
“I take it you like what I have done, don’t you?” Dad smiled.
“Yes I have, it’s so beautiful,” I grinned. “All of the insulation, the studs, the framework, and the windows… all so beautifully placed.”
“Haha… thank you so much, Émile,” he grinned. “Now I’m wondering who should buy the house…,” he looked at me.
“I was thinking about buying it,” I shrugged. “…That’s OK if you don’t want me to.”
“Nah… I insist…”
“Oh… really… I mean, I don’t think I can afford it,” I wasn’t sure what to say.
“Émile… you’ve always wanted a house outside the city… I seriously insist.”
“No Dad… I think Gage should buy it…,” I looked over at Gage; whom was nailing down more studs. “Looking good, Gage!” I called.
“Thanks big brother!” He called back.
“No problem!” I grinned.
“Anyway… I have a better idea… maybe you should both own it?”
“B-both of us…? Really? I don’t think that’s such a great idea… I mean, I love my brother, but I think he’s a bit eccentric…”
“I hate to say it but I insist…”
“Would you stop using that please?” I tutted. “It’s getting annoying, no offence,” I heard a loud noise; it caused me to jump out of my skin and fall over backwards – Splat! – was the noise I heard when I landed on a steel rebar. “D-dad…,” I screamed. “Dad…!!! Dad help, help!” I looked at the rebar and saw something pinkish on it. “I think I’m going to be sick… and I think I’m going to f-faint…” I could just barely see Dad and Gage running up to me.
“Émile… I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have used that nail gun…,” Gage looked at me sadly.
“It-it hurts…,” I think I had tears run down my face. I had never been so scared in my life. I looked over at Dad; calling 9-1-1… I was in and out of consciousness… I could feel blood draining from me. “Yeah I’m going to be sick…” I had never been so sick in my life. I had two no three, external forces against me: the rebar and the spot where I cut myself deeply, and because I got slightly burnt by Jupiter’s Skuntank… but that was starting to heal. “Gage… if you ever see Cassidy… tell her I love her… I love you Gage… I love you Dad… ugh…,” I groaned. “I’m never, ever making shish kebab again in my life…,” I weakly looked up at Gage.
“Émile… why are you talking like that?!” He looked at me and rubbed my hair.
“Gage you’re gonna regret this but…,” I accidentally coughed up blood on him. I fainted…. I was out cold for what seemed like hours until I woke up in an ambulance. I was sitting up because the steel rebar was still in me, within good reason; because if they had taken it out, I would have bled to death and because the rebar blocked the blood vessels that were bleeding. I also looked at my nose to see I had one of those breathing masks on. I felt sick… really sick. I tried to take it off but they stopped me.
“Mmm,” I mumbled.
“Yes?” One of the paramedics asked.
“Mmm!” I pointed to the breathing mask.
“You want to say something?” said another paramedic. I nodded. “OK then,” he took the mask off.
“Please give me an anti-emetic,” I said weakly. Anti-emetics are used to stop vomiting. “I-I feel very sick…”
“Sure thing, can you swallow?”
“I don’t think I can…,” I groaned. “Just inject me with it.”
“Actually, we’re at the hospital… we’re going to put you under surgery ASAP…”
“OK… I guess I’ll just sleep then…,” I closed my eyes.
I could hear voices as I was being anaesthetised “Wow he’s so lucky… this rebar just barely missed his heart…”
“I know… except it pierced through his lung, but it just barely missed the right pulmonary artery…”
“He’s also lucky because it just went straight between the third and fourth rib, it’s not even cracked.”
“Lucky…,” I mumbled and I was out cold.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
“Émile… wake up,” Dad said calmly.
“Huh…” I woke up and the second I did, the pain hit me like a jet impacting me. “Shit…”
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
A week later…
I stumbled into Boss’s office. “Boss…,” I said weakly. I had seen another gruesome crime scene.
“Yes?” He looked at me.
“I was wondering if I could take a break…”
“Again, Émile?” He looked at me. “Oh never mind… you look like shit, again.”
“Thank you,” I limped off, out of his office. I walked outside into the fresh September air. “There’s another thing I’ve always wanted to do…,” I smirked. Despite having one arm to work with, I was able to get my wallet out, and I opened it up to see that I had $1234 even. “Huh, that’s an odd combination…,” I limped off. I walked past ‘Farfetch’d Pond’ and it caught my eye – the Veilstone Game Corner. “There we are, I’ve always wanted to try my luck at gambling,” I slowly walked in… I hadn’t played poker in a casino before.
“Welcome sir,” said a man sitting at the table.
“Hey there,” several others replied.
“Hi,” I sat down.
“How much do you have that you will you bet?” the person at the end of the table asked (I think they’re called a dealer). Damn, she was hot.
“I only have $1234,” I replied.
“Fine, toss it in,” she purred. She must have thought the same thing: I was attractive. I nodded and tossed in 100s, 10s, 5s and 1s. They started to deal. She handed me $1234 worth of chips.
“Which kind of poker is this?” I asked.
“Texas hold’em,” she replied. I had never played it, but I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to play.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
“Damn he’s winning,” a man grumbled. They were talking about me. I had won $1200 already.
“Mind if we call you ‘Radiant Ace’?” asked another.
“No problem at all,” I grinned. I had bet $400. “Four of a kind,” I flipped over my cards.
“Straight flush,” said another. I had lost it.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
I kept losing, just after I had a winning streak. Until I bet the last of my money, I couldn’t believe it… I had won $5000.
…And only to be lost after a few more games.
Sighing, I sat down in a chair in the park near the ‘Farfetch’d Pond’. I stared at the ground and looked up because Rico just happened to be standing next to me. “Rico…?” I looked up, slightly startled. “Hey there,” I said blankly.
“Is there something wrong?” He sat down next to me.
“I went to Veilstone Game Corner and I lost $6234,” I sighed again. “How could I be so dumb? I must be the stupidest, flightiest, most sensitive, bulimic person in the world…”
He got up and put his hands on my shoulders. “Émile what the fuck are you talking about?!” He shook me.
“Ohh… shit Rico… d-don’t do that…”
He stopped and looked at me funny. “Damn, you are sensitive…”
I nodded and shrugged. “My life seems empty…”
Rico did the ‘crazy’ gesture. “Émile, you’re being a real idiot right now –”
“Yes Rico, thank you very much, I appreciate that. If you’ll excuse me, I have to go home and eat something. By the way Rico, I could probably kick your ass despite being injured… but not right now…,” I wheezed and coughed. “I can barely breathe.”
“Oh… maybe you should go home then.”
“That’s what I was doing…”
“Bye Émile, sorry for doing that…”
“It’s OK Rico, bye,” I waved and limped home, coughing and wheezing.
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Present
“That’s just about as much as I can remember…”
“Wow…,” we all mumbled.
We were quite quiet for a while, not really saying much. Stan seemingly stuffed his face with my delicious fritters…
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A/N: so there you go. Oh yeah, there’s something Stan missed when he looked at Émile’s belly, Émile not only suffers from the obvious, but something else, as you will find out in the next chapter. BTW, I'm just as sensitive as him. I don't know how I can keep down my food though; I tend to get motion sickness and I'm get grossed out easily, too.
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