Author's Note: Strangely, I have a habit of doing just what I won't- I said I'd never be interested in fanfiction, I start an account. I said I'd never write a fic, and I write one. And now I'm writing a Pokemon fanfiction. Apparently my subconscious has some sick sense of humor, since I usually loathe the fandom. No offense, it's just some stories are so OOC, good ol' Mary and Marty Sue it makes my head hurt. Though the parodies are awesome.

Pokemon and it's respective merchandise, characters, etc. Belong to Nintendo, Game Freak and The Pokemon Company. I do not own anything.

Chapter I: Littleroot Town


"And this concluded the interview with-" The reporter smiled, microphone raised to her too bright red lips when a man with black hair step in front of her.

"The Handsome Norman!"

"Eh-herm. And this concludes the interview with the Petalburg gym leader, Norman!"

A woman stood in front of a TV, smiling as the bright screen changed to a commercial with a happy tune; "Pikachu, Pikachu, Pikachu products are the best for you~" and bright yellows. "Oh, dear I guess you missed it honey." She ran her hands along the silky fabric of her dress, still smiling at the brown haired boy sitting down at the table with a fierce glower aimed where the smiling "handsome Norman' had been.

"Who cares about Norman the Narcissist anyways?" He grumbled bitterly, drinking from his cup of orange juice and feeling hopelessly like a child. She still smiled, and said casually, "because he's your father. Now, why don't you say hi to the neighbors? They have a daughter around your age, I'm sure who would be happy to meet you Brendan." Grumbling the steely eyed boy slid out of the chair an walked out the door. "Stupid running shoe mechanics..." He grumbled urging his feet to go faster. "Why can't this be sixth gen?" Just as the words left his mouth his feet bolted forward, and ultimately his face hurtled to the ground and happily introduced itself to the dirt who was definitely not the girl next door. "Just. Wonderful."

"Umm, why are you talking to the ground?" A soft voice inquired apprehensively. "Because the dirt is the only damn thing around here that'll listen to me complain." Brendan grumbled, still sprawled out in the grass- by the way, it didn't smell great at all, mom.

"You could talk to me. I'd listen." Brendan looked up, about to raised a skeptical brow when his sarcastic reply was promptly shoved back down his throat and lower jaw decided it would catch flies for the rest of it's career. She was beautiful. Sandy hair held back with a red white striped bow and blue eyes bright blue eyes smiling down at him, hands on her bare knees and a few poke-balls with scratched paint on the belt of her white shorts. All right, Brendan, be cool. you don't want to look like a loser in front of the pretty girl next door would you? "You're pretty."

Pathetic.

Scrub.

Loser.

A faint pink dusted her cheeks. "Oh! Thank you." She laughed, hands folded behind her back as she tilted her head. "You're pretty too." She called me pretty!

That's not a compliment, you're a guy- no, you're an idiot. The most primitive kind of Homo Sapiens.

Clearing his throat, Brendan smiled charmingly and replied in his ultra super smexy voice;" Yes, thank you, I am very handsome." She giggled, hiding her mouth behind her hands. "What's wrong with your voice?" Ouch, our pride. "Uh, there's nothing wrong with my voice." No, just that you sound like a teenage Timberlake who makes all the girls say "Bye Bye Bye."

"You're strange." She said, walking over absently to a swing tied to the lowest branch of a tree next to a house where he could see pink drapes through the shutters. "My name is May, you must be the boy who moved in next door. What's your name?"

"Brendan," son of the one and only true narcissist, Norman. "But I'm all for demeaning nicknames if you want." She laughed again, a lovely bell like sound that sounded like a Chimecho dancing at the flower festivals he had once seen in a documentary. Though, he'd have the girl next door- May- rather than one of those revive downers any day. Stood stood, smiling at him and waving, "Well, I have to go look for my dad. He's probably out doing some fieldwork somewhere." And just like that she was gone.

Told ya. "Bye, Bye, Bye."

'Shut up.'


AN: Anyways, thanks for reading.