Well, I'm in a writer's block with most of my fics, yeah, so I decided to do a one shot. I saw a lot of Whiskey lullaby song-fics about Harry Potter, but there are none here, so I'm trying it on Pokemon. Here's my try:
Disclaimer: I am underprivileged. I don't own Pokemon. Don't y'all feel bad for me?? Well, don't sue me, I can't afford it. Oh, and Whiskey Lullaby by Brad Paisley isn't mine either. I am so underprivileged.
Comments from Bouncy (she has come out from hiding…she is afraid of the tissue box, which I took outside): You are not underprivileged. Your rich, girl! Don't feel bad for her, y'all!
She really doesn't shut up!! Oh, and be nice. This is my first song-fic!!
Brendan Birch turned the keys of the car to the right, and then yanked them out, stuffing them in his pocket as he opened the door of his Mercedes Benz. He closed it quite loudly; reliving the stress a daily job gave him.
He knocked on the door, and was stupefied by dead silence. He reached in his pocket for the keys. He smiled in victory as his hand landed on a familiar gold object. He carefully inserted in its hole, and twisted. He pulled the handle of the door, and the door opened. He could hear a quiet noise coming from his room, but he didn't think much of it. "Must be May. She's probably having another Nidoking nightmare." He said to himself, referring to a reoccurring dream of his wife, May Maple Birch, 's including a black, bloody Nidoking chasing her off a cliff, and she falling into a needle stack.
He opened the pantry and pulled out a can of tomato soup. He heated it, then quickly ate it. He yawned, realizing that his nighttime was drawing near. He headed to his bathroom and brushed his teeth and washed his face. He headed to his room when he halted. "Oh…yes…" a voice moaned, as if she was in enjoyment. " May is having a nightmare?" The man's thoughts scattered hopelessly as he realized what this could be. "No, she can't, May wouldn't." he said silently as his mind swore horribly.
He opened the door slowly. A girl recognized as his wife was lying nude in her bed that she shared with Brendan. But she wasn't alone. A figure, also naked, resided in the bed. Their clothes were scattered around the area, and the comforter was clean off the bed. Brendan's eyes widened in shock.
She put him out
Like the burning end of a midnight cigarette
She broke his heart
He spent the rest of his life tryin' to forget
He ran out the door, slamming the door behind him. He headed to his car, just planning to drive to anywhere but where he was now. He zoomed out of his driveway, right foot firmly on the gas. He headed to the liquor store and bought a bottle of whiskey, then headed to the local Holiday Inn. After checking in, he headed to his room.
He put is things down, and lay down on his bed. After relaxing for a few minutes, he reached into his bag and took out the bottle of whiskey, which he had a glass of before falling asleep.
The next day, he went to work. After work, he went to the liquor store for more whiskey.
It became a cycle. He would go to work, and then drink until he fell asleep. Gradually, he began to work less and drink more. He just couldn't get drunk enough to forget his pain.
We watched him drink his pain away
A little at a time
But he never could get drunk enough
To get her off his mind
Until the night
One night, it was just too much. He was watching TV, and it directed to May. At first he was overjoyed, but he was stung at the thought of his rejection. She doesn't love me was always the most constant phrase in his mind. He took the remote and turned it off. The pain was to far to bear. It was like someone had lit a match on his heart, and added some tinder to it. He grabbed his whiskey and gulped it down. He knew he was going to die…he wanted to die.
He put that bottle his head
And pulled the trigger
And finally drank away
Her memory
Life is short
But this time it was bigger
Than the strength
He had to get off his knees
He knew it was coming, but still he was still alive. He grabbed the nearest piece of paper and wrote.
Dear May,
I know I'm going to die, so I just need to tell you something. I love you, and I always have. I just needed to say it before I went.
Love,
Brendan
He felt cold freeze over him- death.
Morning came, and the cleaner came into Brendan's hotel room. She took a look at him, then checked his pulse. He wasn't breathing, and he didn't have a pulse. He looked fine, but he was holding a whiskey bottle in one hand, and a note in the other. The cleaner panicked. "Mr. Burns! We have a dead man in room 44!"
We found him
With his face down in the pillow
With a note that said
I'll love her 'til I died
May flicked on the TV. It was the daily news. "Breaking news, folks," the announcer woman stated, "Former Pokemon Master Brendan Birch died this morning. According an employee at the Holiday Inn in Oldale, the place of his death, he died of an alcohol overdose. The…" May shut off the TV. Brendan…dead? The word just couldn't register in her mind. She picked up the newspaper. It was the front page. "Worldwide Legend Dies". She quickly scanned the article, and found the place and time of his funeral.
On the day of the funeral, she put on her black dress. Very dramatic, so she wore it seldom. She hopped in her car and went as slow as possible to the event. Seeing him again would be impossible to bear, She even questioned herself on why she was even going.
She pulled into the parking lot, and stayed in the car, mentally preparing herself. She then walked out, trying to act calm as her insides fought with each other.
The funeral was a blur. The casket, what they said; it was so blurry, so surreal. It seemed like she was dreaming, like it was her worst nightmare ever She was forced out of her reverie when she heard her name called. "Is there a May Maple Birch here?" the minister asked.
"Oh sorry, that would be me." She said, her cheeks turning a bit pink.
"Mr. Birch wanted you to have this." He said; handing May a crumpled piece of paper. She opened it up. In shock of what it said, she read it over and over. He still loved her…even after what she did to him. The questions in her head turned from countable to myriad.
They lowered the casket into a ditch, near a willow. It was the same willow that he and May had shared their first kiss. Tears fell down her cheeks at the memory.
And when we buried him
Beneath the willow
The angel sang
A whiskey lullaby
As they filled the hole, May fled the funeral. It was too much to bear. Her body was just numb to physical pain now; she didn't feel anything. Maybe that's why she got a ticket for speeding. She paid her fine, then went home.
La La La La La La La
La La La La La La La
La La La La La La La
La La La La La La La
Five Years Later
May dropped her brief case, and rushed to the kitchen. She opened the fridge, feeling its cool breeze. She pulled out a bottle of whiskey and poured it in a glass. After polishing it, she had another, and turned on the news. "Next week is Brendan Birch Memorial Week." The woman on the news said, "This superb trainer died five years ago, and a memorial has been made of him. A ceremony will be on Tuesday at noon. The ceremony will include…" May shut off the TV as a tear rolled down her porcelain cheek.
The rumors flew
But no one knew how much she blamed herself
For years and years
She tried to hide the whiskey on her breath
She cried herself to sleep until one o'clock, when she began to cry in her sleep. It was a nightmare, a one that nearly scared her into shock. She was watching Brendan drink…she watched him kill himself with the deadly liquid. It hurt so much to think that one tiny affair behind his back drove him to do such a thing. She woke up with a start at six, with a major hangover as she suspected.
Her drinking habits worsened. She always had a glass or two of whiskey after dinner, but it turned into a drink in the morning, two drinks with lunch, and four drinks at dinner. She was a wreck, a complete wreck. She suffered super hangovers- and still drank the next morning. She always thought that if she drank just a tad more, she would forget him, and his snow-white hair, and his ruby red eyes, and his bright, white smile. She knew that alcohol was her only outlet, the only place she could solace. But it just made everything worse.
She finally drank her pain away
A little at a time
But she never could get drunk enough
To get him off her mind
Until the night
She dragged herself up at six one morning. Her drinking problem had caught up with her…too much binge drinking was definitely not improving her health. She always felt so immortal…all this drinking was just not killing her. She didn't understand why she couldn't just die. Oh, and how she just wanted to die.
She dreaded the news; it was always about some new Brendan Birch celebration or contest. Just the letter B made her think of him, all the times they had together. If she was sober, she was horrified. If she was drunk, it was magnified 1000 times.
One day, she gathered up her courage, and lunged for the remote. She needed to face her fear, to remember that not every since stinking day could be a Brendan Birch Memorial Day. She clicked that button, the news channel. "Hello, I am Lindsey Brunson, of the Hoenn Daily News," the woman on the news said proudly, "Today, it will be chilly, with a possibility of showers in the evening. Now, we'll go to Ester Snow on a special bulletin." The words 'SPECIAL BULLETIN' flashed on the screen.
"Thank you, Lindsey. Now, I have an interview with Stanley Seashell. He has won the Brendan Birch Pokemon Contest. Here is our interview…" May turned the TV off. How could she have been so stupid! Yesterday was the Pokemon Contest!
She sprinted to the fridge for her whiskey bottle. It was just too much. Her insides were collapsing, crying with her as she chugged the bottle, hoping it would be the end soon, to take away her pain, her suffering.
She put that bottle to her head
And pulled the trigger
And finally drank away
His memory
Life is short
But this time it was bigger
Than the strength she had
To get up off her knees
She grabbed another bottle, and chugged the entire thing in one gulp. She felt the intoxication wipe over her as a certain picture caught her eye. It was Brendan and she, playing a shot game. If only she knew back then that same drink would kill both of them…
May Maple always thought that death would be painless and peaceful. Instead, it was acute, painful, and hell on earth.
As nature promises, the sun poured into the sky, showing daylight. At noon, a man in a black suit, May's social worker, rapped on May's door. "Must be another hangover," the man said, opening the door himself. He walked into the house, and headed to May's room. He quietly opened the door and inspected May. She wasn't breathing, and she had no pulse. The social worker's eyes bulged out. May was dead, with a whiskey bottle in one hand, and her late husband's picture in the other. He ran to the phone, and punched in 9-1-1.
We found her with her
Face down in the pillow
Clinging to his picture
For dear life
May's funeral was the following Thursday, and everyone was there. May's corpse was laid down next to her ex-husband's. Brendan had a tombstone of his own, but Wally Woods, who received all of May's fortune (her house and everything…hey they were best friends), ordered a mutual headstone to be made.
We laid her next to him
Beneath the willow
While the angels sang
A whiskey lullaby
Wally carved the tomb himself. He wrote:
Brendan BirchMay Maple Birch
September 2, 1990- October 6, 1990- October 17, 2018 November 19, 2024
Here lies the bodies of Brendan and May Maple Birch. Separated by death, then united by death. Rest in peace.
This is the depressing story of Brendan Birch and May Maple Birch. Just as Wally said, they were separated and united by death.
Today, you can visit their grave. Many put flowers, but Wally always put an empty whiskey bottle. Those enviormental cleaners might have swept it away the next day, but the symbol lasted forever.
La La La La La La La
La La La La La La La
La La La La La La La
La La La La La La La
So, y'all like it? It was my first song fic, so be nice to me, please!! REVIEW PLEASE!!!
(GiGgLyGaL-cHaN)