Sylvia: So the Internet’s been saying. Have you played it?
Mirror: No. I doubt it’d be much fun on a boat. Have you?
Mirror: Well then. Either way, since it’s become such a big deal, I think it’s time we Riff a Pokepasta.
Sylvia: Oh lord.
Mirror: Today’s is called “My Pikachu, Elliot.” So, let’s worship a plushie and Riff this bitch!
When I was a little girl, probably younger than 6, I got into the Pokemon franchise.
Mirror: (Narrator): And it soon came to dominate even waking second of my life.
The only games that I had for my Gameboy Color were the Pokemon games. I LOVED them all, but my favorite was Pokemon Yellow, because, as a kid, my favorite Pokemon was Pikachu.
I named my starter Pokemon Elliot, and together we had adventures of all kind. For every Pokemon game I had, my character had an Elliot, all of which slightly different, but I pretended that they were all the same and that Elliot had magical abilities to hop from one game to another. That’s why, on my seventh birthday, my parents got me a stuffed Pikachu plushie.
Sylvia: Is this becoming “Pokemon.exe”?
It was literally the best birthday – and birthday gift – of my life. Finally, my buddy had gained enough magic power to finally jump out of my Gameboy Color and could go anywhere with me, without needing to be trapped in his electronic prison – or at least, that was the back story that I made up for him. It all sounds so complicated, but remember that I was a little kid when Elliot sprang into my life.
For years, Elliot was my only and my closest friend. We did everything together; go to the bathroom together,
Mirror: And now this story’s officially become creepy.
Sylvia: Well, it is supposed to be Creepypasta, so…
sleep together, play outside together, and yes, we even went to school together, but he always insisted to stay in my backpack. He napped while I knew he was always with me.
When it was time for meals and snacks, I would sit Elliot down on my lap, put a little bib on him and would share some of my food with him. It didn’t matter if that food was pizza, Doritos, or Oreos, I would always give him a little bit. He always ate it right up.
Sylvia: (Narrator): Despite not having a movable mouth or digestive system.
He wasn’t picky or anything, he loved whatever I loved.
We had many great conversations. We had at least two a day. Elliot and I talked when we woke up, usually about our dreams or what we were going to do together that day. He has a real nice voice; slightly high pitched, like a child’s, but not as high as seven-year-old me. For the record, he also spoke perfect English.
We would talk throughout my whole morning routine, through waking up, washing my face, getting dressed, having breakfast and finally ending when he was in my backpack and I was on the bus. Even then, I would slightly unzip it and whisper chat with him until we were at school.
No one ever understood our bond.
Mirror: Mainly because it’s creepy as all hell.
It was more than friendship – it was best friendship. We even had friendship bracelets which I made. Mine was just a strip of paper that, on the top, where anyone could see, said, “Chloe” which was my name, and on the bottom was “Best” Elliot’s was like that, but his name was on the top and “Friends” on the bottom.
I was the only one who could hear Elliot’s lovely voice. To anyone else, it would seem like I’m talking to myself. Often I would hear Mom ask, “Why do you always talk to yourself as you eat breakfast?” and, being the polite girl I was, I would tell Elliot “Excuse me for a second.” as I tried, multiple times, to explain to Mom that Elliot and I were in a discussion and I would greatly appreciate it if she were to please not interrupt. Every time, she laughed and said, “You’re a funny little kid, you know that?”
Sylvia: (Mother): Now please, take your medication, you little nutjob.
Kids at school would pick on me because I liked to take Elliot with me wherever I went, including to school. Naturally, I told all of this to Elliot, who would comfort me by hugging me and saying, “Don’t worry. You won’t have to worry about those kids teasing us anymore.”
Mirror: (Elliot): We’ll bathe in a river of the unbelievers’ blood.
I would always feel better after the first few times he told me this, because the kids who teased us would disappear by the end of the week.
My teacher absolutely hated Elliot from the moment I brought him in for show and tell. She always said that he was a distraction and that I should focus on my schoolwork. I would occasionally unzip my backpack to give Elliot air and to check up on him. I can remember the day the two of us downright hated her.
One day, while I was multitasking between subtracting fractions and checking on Elliot, she suddenly marched her way over to my desk, unzipped my backpack all the way and snatched Elliot out, rudely waking him up. Instantly, I burst into tears – I feel no shame for crying – and started crying his name as he tried to worm his way out of my grasp.
Sylvia: Meanwhile, all the other kids just tried not to pay attention to the mean teacher and the insane girl.
“You can have it back by the end of the day, now quit that crying! I will have to tell your parents about this!” She snapped, not even bothering to call Elliot a “he” as she marched her way back to her desk and throwing Elliot in a drawer where other confiscated toys were in as I tried to compose myself for the rest of the day. I didn’t even care that my parents would know, I just wanted my best friend back.
Surely, by the end of the day, she gave Elliot back to me. Instantly, I snatched him from her middle-aged, wrinkly and veiny hands and cuddled him in my own tiny, smooth arms, as I sobbed apologies to him as I ran out of the class and onto the bus, ignoring all the strange looks from kids.
Mirror: (Chloe): We’d make those kids disappear soon enough.
Before you ask, now that I look back on it, my teacher probably shouldn’t have taken him away so forcefully.
“I’m so sorry, Elliot, I’m so sorry…” I whispered, over and over again. He smiled at me and told me not to worry, as it wasn’t my fault, it was the teacher’s. His usually happy expression turned dark as he said, “The teacher is definitely someone who needs to disappear off the face of the earth.” while he wiped the tears from my face.
Sylvia: (Elliot): Her death shall give me strength.
“Thanks, Elliot, buddy.” I smiled as the bus stopped at my home. This was one of the memories that were awful, but turned warm and happy when I had Elliot in my arms to comfort me.The next day, we had a teacher that accepted our relationship, after the other one disappeared.
Usually, people’s bonds with their plushies weakens when they get older, and the plushies get locked in a closet and forgotten, but thankfully, that wasn’t the case with Elliot and I. I made sure that it wasn’t. In fact, because I was so determined to keep our bond forever, it grew as I aged.
Mirror: (Chloe): In fact, I ended up marrying Elliot.
I'm 17 now, and even now the two of us are our closest friends. We love to play games together, and one of our favorite things to talk about are the boys that I crush on. In fact, there's a really cute boy at the high school I attend as I type this out. However, he has someone trying to go after his heart, a pretty girl named Rebecca. Elliot and I don't like her one bit. Rebecca is not worthy of him.
Sylvia: (Chloe): She is nothing but common street trash.
If there's a moral that I have to give this story, it's this: Never let your bond with plushies weaken.
They could be your guardian angel in disguise.
Mirror: Based on the experience I’ve had with a plushie, no, no they’re not.
Mirror: This story isn’t all that bad.
Sylvia: Really, the biggest problem is that it doesn’t have much to do with Pokemon. You could’ve had any other franchise or character there, and it would’ve worked. For a Pokepasta, it really isn’t Pokemon so much as a real-life imaginary friend who kills people. I’m pretty sure the idea’s been done before, but I haven’t seen it yet. So…yeah. Also, there are minor typos here and there. And, personally, I find the “moral” of the story to be a bit, well, stupid. Hold onto your childhood toys because they might be guardian angels? Weird. Hell, in a way this story is saying, “Don’t grow up.” That’s a great moral to have.
Mirror: Admittedly, the fact the story doesn’t have much to do with Pokemon makes it understandable to folks who aren’t that familiar with the game. Also, it’s pretty well written. The characters, while not super developed, are fleshed out enough to make the story make sense. And, for the most part, the way the characters act are logical. Well, except in Chloe’s case, but she’s the exception. For the story to work, Chloe has to be a bit nuts. And, yeah, it does work. It’s not perfect, but it’s pretty good. But that’s what we think. What do you guys think? Was the story good? Was the Riff good? Do you wish Elliot would make us disappear? Leave your thoughts in the comments below.