*~*The Felicities/Fallacies of Pokémon Training*~*

The Prologue

Written by The Duke of Briarcliffe

*~*

Author's Note: This is a new fanfiction of mine. It will be satirical in tone, or at least I hope so, and may prove to be funny at times. I think that I'm going to write in third-person for once. Oh, I won't even bother writing a disclaimer because many of you already know the deal—The Duke of Briarcliffe

*~*

Is it possible that if a person is born into the comforts of society, or with a silver spoon in his/her mouth, that he/she can refrain from being a complete and utter snob? Well, Duncan did grow up to be a snob. How couldn't he?

Duncan was born in to the high and mighty Beechcombe family just seventeen years ago. His parents, Crandall and Helen, adored him and gave him everything that a child could need...or want, without the common sense of knowing when enough was enough. Or without having the sense of justice that all parents should have.

By the age of three, little Duncan was considered to be a child prodigy. He had exceptional talent on the piano and had even learned to read before he learned to talk, however that was accomplished. He was a huge fan of Pokémon Literature and spent hours perusing the pages that featured his favorite pokémon, Meganium.

After learning how to read music, he was determined in learning how to write the scores. His parents demanded a tutor for him. He profited greatly from the tutor and was already composing by the age of five.

By the September of his fifth year, young Duncan's parents knew that in order to create a well-rounded person who would grow to have a state of mental and social equilibrium, he would have to enter grade school. His young peers immediately flocked to him; but after a month or so, they became jealous of his treasures and abilities and began to exclude him from their games. He soon became a loner. His teachers, however, loved him and even promoted him to the first grade after only four months of kindergarten.

He continued to excel in his studies, especially that of pokémon, until he came to the age of twelve, in the seventh grade, when social abilities are practically required. To put it plainly, he just didn't fit in. His parents, who held the divine right to protect him, for he was their only child, decided that he would best fit in amongst his equals. Therefore, they sent him to the prestigious Pokémon Technical Institute.

Duncan was a hit there. Everyone liked him. They especially liked how rich and powerful his family was and reveled at what great parties he threw. Basically, everyone was kissing his ass for their own benefit, and he hardly cared. He was finally being accepted for who he was. He did have one true friend though; his name was Madison. They did everything together and are still good friends to this day.

There was a time when Duncan realized what was going on around him. He was an intelligent person, after all. The moment he stopped throwing parties, the more disinterested his peers became in him. He tried fitting in from there. It just didn't work out. Everyone saw what was on the outside and not in the inside. They did know that he possessed a good sense of humor or that he had the potential to be caring, and, maybe even loyal. The only people who did were his numerous flings, his parents, and of course, Madison.

He envied his best friend. He envied the way people flocked to him because of his addictive personality and go-with-the-flow attitude towards life. He lived for the moment and not for the future, for that is something that is not guaranteed. Duncan wanted his popularity but could not attain it. Nobody knew this—he had too much pride to actually admit it.

Basically, as a result of his jealousy, he didn't care much about anyone who wasn't a part of his family or who wasn't Ben, he blocked anyone else out of his life. The only thing he had to worry about was himself. He manipulated others in order to do what he wished. Lying was his forte and at times, used it to get himself out of trouble. He couldn't trust anyone, so why should he make people want to trust him?

By the end of his senior year, Duncan had had a full education in the study pokémon, received a fabulous score on his Pokémon.Scholastic.Aptitude.Test, and had completed the most horrible time of his life. Feeling like he'd actually accomplished something, he decided that it was a fine time to think about he was going to do with himself.

As he cruised over the cerulean waves, leaving a mass of fluffy white froth in its wake, that bordered the illustrious Seafoam Islands and sipped on a guava-melon smoothie, he reminisced of his childhood. He remember that he'd always liked Meganium, the grass pokémon. Suddenly he concluded that the field of pokémon would be the wisest career choice; after all, he'd only spent four years learning of nothing but the creatures. It was only logical.

But there's so many different fields! Which one could he possibly choose? He could afford to go into any one he wished, he had the money. The task of being an actual trainer would be too laborious for him and the thought of researching behavior was out of the question. So, he brought the subject up to his parents.

"Mamma," he said, twirling his crystal glass around; it refracted the sunlight into the wonderful colors of Roy G. Biv. "I have something to ask of you and father."

Helen craned her neck to the left, she'd just rolled on her back because her body had reached the preferred bronze tone, and asked, "what ever could it be, dearest?"

"Yeah, son," his father agreed in his gruff voice. "You know that you can talk to us about anything."

"Right," Duncan replied, sounding almost unsure of himself.

Crandall furrowed his thick gray eyebrow and stared at his son quizzically. "If you need some money, then feel free to use my platinum Visa—"

"No! It's not that," he interjected. He looked off at the wilting sun that ducking lower under the water, which created a vibrant reflection. He could see a school of Magikarp, just beneath the surface of the ocean. "It's not about money."

His mother managed to place a hand upon her ample hip and said, "Well, Honey—what is it about?"

"I'm wondering about what I should do...as a profession."

"A profession?" they chirped. "You know very well that you do not have to work a day in your life," Crandall said. He pondered about his last statement before contradicting himself by saying, "Actually, I suppose that that would be all good and well. It would keep you busy. Don't you agree, Helen?"

"Oh yes," she said, taking a sip of her chilled margarita with a wedge of lemon and lime on the edge. "What is it that you would like to do, Honey?"

"Something that involves pokémon, to be sure!" He lowered his head. "But the problem is that...I don't know exactly what to do. I could be a trainer, but I don't want to. I could be a breeder, but I don't like the idea. The same goes with being a professor and a photographer. What are your suggestions?"

Swirling the transparent amber brandy, his father came to a conclusion. "A gym leader!—yes, you should be a Gym Leader!"

"Oh, yes! You have the perfect demeanor for a thing like that. You'd make a fine Gym Leader!"

"A jolly good idea, indeed; I do say. And as you know. my predictions rarely fail."

They all partook in a haughty round of laughter that could only be paralleled to the ones in the movies, like in Ritchie Rich. They were all laughing so hard that Duncan accidentally spilled some of his smooth unto the hardwood floor of the yacht.

"Oh, damn it!" he blasphemed as he grabbed a vacant napkin and was about to wipe up the mess.

"Language!" his mother chided. "That is common language." She leaned forward and pinched his cheek, causing it redden a bit. "And you, Honey, are far from common. Leave it, Duncan: the maid that we brought will clean it."

"But Mamma, it is just right there. There's no harm in wiping it—"

"Leave it," she snapped, her mouth pressed into a thin line. It soon conformed into a cheery smile before she added, "It seems as though you forgot that you're a Beechcombe; having been in the Institute for so long, I can very well see why you would do such a thing." She looked to her husband and they chuckled.

He did it anyways. "It's just a tiny thing. I learned how to do things on my own there. Not everyone caters to your needs."

Mr. Beechcombe raised a brow at his son; "you say this as if it is a good thing..."

Duncan remained silent.

"Anyways," his mother interjected. "Where is it that you wish to train?"

He pondered for a few seconds. The place couldn't be a rural area, much too slow. That eliminated the possibilities down to one: the city. Then, he debated over which city would be best. He figured that since he loved Meganium so much, it would only be right if he was a Grass Gym Leader. And there was that Gym in Celadon City that specialized in Grass pokémon. He made up his mind.

"Celadon City, Mamma. It would be the perfect place for me. It's a booming city, you know—full of opportunity. I could apprentice myself to the leader, and, upon reaching an advanced level, for I know so much about pokémon, I could challenge her for the rights to the Gym!"

"Splendid idea, son. It is what the French would call, "une bonne idée." He let out a throaty chuckle and, naturally, a chorus of laughter ensued.

"Your father is such a comedian! Is he not?" Helen asked as she went into a fit of giggling.

Duncan half-smiled. Far from it... "Oh, yes!"

"You could go by way of our private airplane! We could give you some money for an apartment too. Why don't you ask Madison to be your roommate in order to keep each other company? I'm sure he would agree. He must feel so restricted in that confining house of his in Pallet Town. Barely enough room to breathe, I say," Helen commented.

Duncan lightly frowned.

"I agree with your mother, Duncan. You can fly back to Lavender Hills and pack your clothing tomorrow. I'm sure, with what limited supplies he should have, Madison would be ready by Saturday. You can leave that morning if you please."

"That would be great."

Therefore, Duncan passed the day in wonderment and by the morn, he had flew off to their lavish estate called Lavender Hills and packed his bags, totaling five in all— three were clothes, one was a box of textbooks, and the other was full of random assortments. He called his friend, he agreed, and they were off to Celadon by the next day.

But he was forgetting something...

He didn't have a pokémon!

*~*

Concluding Statements: Yeah, I know. This is a slow beginning, but I had to start things off. There will be more action and everything to come. The genre will mainly be that of Action/Adventure and Romance. I've been thinking of this for a while now. I hope that you have enjoyed reading it. There's more to come...soon. I promise that it won't be boring, Please review. Thank you—The Duke of Briarcliffe