AN: HELLO EVEYBODY and welcome to my pokemoon fanfic! normally this is we're people say that they do not own pokemon or any of the characers. but as a matter of fact i do own pokemon. my uncle works at nintendo so u haters can suck it my tacher said ihave a way with words and i should write a story so here goes. youngster joemys mother is based on my aunt audrey who talks like that. i hate when she calls and i can tell my mom is going 2 make me talk to her lol. plz leave a comment thank u for readin!

CHAPTER 1

A mother's woes... Pretty girls in the street... Youngster Joey claims a bike

Youngster Joey's family didn't like him at all because he suffered from untreated bipolar disorder.

"Youngsta Jeoowey," his aging mother would frequently caw from the kitchen. "Youngsta Jeowey, I gat my wheelcheeah stuck in the dayam corna ageeeeen. Youngsta Jeeowey ya little shit, quit playin with that dayam Rattata and help ya motha out of huh cheeeeaaaaaaah." Rainy days were the worst because Youngster Joey's mother's arthritis would begin to act up and she would inevitably become trapped in the corner of the kitchen between the refrigerator and the sink, helpless to wheel herself backwards to freedom. On one such rainy morning in Johto, while Youngster Joey was lying in his racecar bed listening to his mother's dreadful shrieks from the kitchen, he realized that his bipolar disorder wasn't going to get better on its own.

I, he realized, I have to make a change. Nobody else. Me.

"Jeeeeoooowey," his mother called.

Youngster Joey fished his cell phone out of his shorts and dialed. It rang, rang again, clicked.

"Hellaow?" Youngster Joey's mother's voice asked.

"Hi mom, it's me, Youngster Joey!" Youngster Joey said. He was feeling great today. He was in his manic phase.

"Jeeowey, I need ya help," his mother's voice shrieked from inside the phone.

"I can't talk right now, mom," Youngster Joey told her. He backflipped out of bed. "Rattata and I have to go on a Pokémon journey to discover the cure for bipolar!"

"Youngsta Jeeowey, yuh not old enough, deah. You're only eight. Ya can't leave on no Pokémon journey until you're ten."

"Fuck you, ma," Youngster Joey said cheerfully. He had already scooped Rattata up under one arm and bundled it in a classy white scarf. He shut his cell phone, slipped it back into one of the pockets in his khakis, and unfolded his town map. The town map somehow showed a map of every town on every continent in the whole world.

As Youngster Joey shuffled out the door with his perfect Rattata and his other supplies, leaving his screaming mother stuck between the refrigerator and the sink, he was grinning. He was so excited to embark on his Pokémon quest. It would be him and his Rattata against the world!

Youngster Joey knew he had to make it to Celadon city, which was in Kanto, a whole continent away. Celadon had the famed department store, where you could buy all kinds of things. Surely one of those things would cure his bipolar disorder. But as he weaved down the sidewalk with his thrashing Rattata still clenched tightly under his arm, he began to grow paranoid. There were pretty girls outside looking at him strangely.

They don't like my cap, Youngster Joey thought with a whirlwind of terror. He quickly spun it around backward, the way all the badass mother fuckers from his second grade class wore their caps. The pretty girls nodded their approval of this change and went back to their business.

That was a close one, Youngster Joey thought. But his mind was already cramping under the first dark shockwaves of anxiety he had always known to precede his depressive episodes. He would need to move more quickly if he was to reach Celadon in time.

Youngster Joey decided to trade his Rattata for a bike. It seemed like the most logical thing to do, since he was only eight and didn't have any pokédollars yet. Youngster Joey called his Rattata on the phone. When Rattata picked up, Youngster Joey gave it the bad news. The Rattata seemed nonplussed, but didn't have a whole lot to say in response. They went into a Pokémart together.

"Yo, champ in the making!" cried a painfully awkward sunglasses-wearing register dude to Youngster Joey. "Drink this water!"

Youngster Joey hitched up his pants and took the bottle of water from the man.

"That's pure H20, little man!"

Youngster Joey dialed the Pokémart on his cell phone. When the counter man picked up, Youngster Joey said, "Thanks!"

"You're welcome, little bro," the cashier said into the mouthpiece of the phone. He and Youngster Joey were maintaining unbearably intense eye contact. "What can I help you with?"

"I have bipolar disorder," Youngster Joey told him, "so I need to sell this Raticate."

"That looks a little small to be a Raticate," the man said with a suspicious head waggle.

"Listen," Youngster Joey growled into the phone. He set the Rattata on the counter. "Look over the haunches. Check out those teeth. This is a grade-A Raticate, man. Would I lie to you?"

"I guess not," the cashier admitted. He weighed the Rattata on a small scale and told Youngster Joey he could pay one million pokédollars for it.

"Great," Youngster Joey said. Hang on, I've got another call."

The call was from his mother.

"Jeeeeeooooooooowey." The phone's tinny speaker crackled with distortion. "Jeeowey ya gotta come home, I can't get outta this corna an I'm missin' the show where they interview the traaaainas."

Youngster Joey could hear the TV squawking in the background. An authoritative-sounding news anchor was asking a girl what her favorite phrase was.

"BIRTHDAY FIGHT," the girl replied. "PERSON COOL," she added.

"Sorry, mom," Youngster Joey said gently. "I'm busy. I'm off on an adventure. I've got my own problems now." He switched back to his call with the salesman. "Sorry about that. That was my hot French girlfriend who I have sex with a million billion times every week and we have seven children together. I'm a cool guy. I've got a girlfriend."

"Oh," the cashier said.

"How much are your bicycles?"

The salesman laughed. "All the bikes here cost a million fucking dollars, kid. It's like that on purpose. We hate seeing kids ride past on bikes, so we make them cost one more dollar than a kid can physically have."

"Well, it just so happens I have a million dollars in store credit."

"What! Oh shit, that's right."

It wasn't long before the sale was final. The cashier stuffed Youngster Joey's Rattata into a tiny cage and wheeled out a brand new Mongoose BMX bike with flames painted on the bars and a bunch of KoRn stickers stuck to the seat.

"Here you go, kid." The cashier stomped the kickstand a few times, bending it to uselessness. "Enjoy your piece of shit million dollar bike. It doesn't even have two speeds. All it can do is way too fast. Gonna be hard as hell to enter doors on this fucking thing."

"You're gonna be sorry you did that. I've got your phone number now. You're never gonna sleep again."

Youngster Joey got on his new bike, swerved out into the street, and took the curb like a ramp. He sailed over the heads of two lasses playing with some Togepis and Azumarills. As they looked up to watch him launch through the air like some type of idiot superhero, he held an invisible phone up to his ear and mouthed, Call me. The lasses swooned and giggled.

Youngster Joey tore off into the dark mouth of the Pokémon forest.