Pokémon belongs to a very rich man. I am not that rich man. In fact, I'm not rich nor very manly.
Wow, on every fanfic that I post on this site, I write a plead for people to help me find my grammar and spelling errors. So far you, the Pokémon fans, have been the most gracious with that request (or, for some reason my writing here sucks more than the other fandoms. If that is the case, sorry!).
Thanks to Caldazar Atreides, AzureFlames, and mostly Ryan Libra! *bows* Not only have you told me what you liked/didn't like, you told me your reason why. It reviews like this that will help me write better.
To any new readers out there, if you spot any spelling or grammatical errors that these people overlooked, don't stop yourself from pointing them out! You want better quality fan fiction, right?
Tradition Sucks!
Even with the advanced technology they had, some things were difficult to do. Being a traveling trainer with the most up-to-date Pokédevice, you were still going to find dead zones where you couldn't call anybody. Pokécenters in the middle of nowhere had to wait months on end for new supplies. Pokédexes malfunction and batteries die. While many things like that were still trying to be improved for the better, some things were never upgraded. The only explanation Jerry had for this involved tradition. A tradition he wished would drop dead.
Like his friend.
It started out simple enough, he got into contact with one of his old friends. Alright, he was only fourteen so it couldn't be that old of a friendship. But Jerry knew him almost as long as he has lived so he thought old was an okay word to use.
"For some reason, I can't find Zangoose anywhere." He sighed, finally admitting to his friend the truth over one of the Pokécenter's phones.
"Are you kidding?" His friend laughed, "Those things are freaking everywhere. I don't know what your trouble is."
"I've read that they are strong enemies with the Seviper, and that's all I've seen. I think they-"
"Shit, really?" He exclaimed, "You have Seviper?"
"Um," Jerry blinked, he was not used to impressing his friend, "Yeah, I've caught two."
"Where are you?"
"I'm in Rustboro City right now."
"Well, I'm at Mauville, we should meet at Verdanturf and trade!"
"O-okay!"
And so the deal was set. Jerry was excited, it had been months since he'd seen a familiar face. Excluding the nurses at the Pokécenters, which Jerry felt the rumors talking of illegal cloning had to have some root in truth. Shaking his head hoping to remove that creepy thought, he thought of the Zangoose Stan was going to give him and the possible battle that would be held afterward.
"I can do this, I haven't been training all this time to lose too badly." He told himself to calm his nerves, but the nerves in his brain told him that he lost really badly the last three times he went up against his friend. So don't hold your hopes too high. Jerry agreed with his brain.
This time.
When they finally met up in Verdanturf Town, Jerry and Stan hugged each other like they used greet each other on a constant basis back home. But because they were now young teenage boys anything that seemed remotely girly (to them) was turned tough, rough and brief. It's the man hug!
"So let's get this over with, yeah?" Stan shoved Jerry into the Pokécenter and the boys had a brief fist fight until they reached the trading sector. Running to their favorite colored stall, the booth booted up and they both picked the Pokémon necessary for trade.
"So is Zoo ready to take down Fume?" Stan teased as he pushed the final button, "Or is Fume going to kick his ass across the pavement again?"
"Shut up, Stan. Fume wins by type default, otherwise Zoo would win." Jerry ignored his friend's laughter and concentrated on what kind of Pokémon this Zangoose was. He hoped she or he would be gentle or calm, though those weren't common personalities for Zangoose. Jerry had a hard time being authoritative, unlike Stan, who scared all creatures great and small. But as the trade was confirmed, he was sure his friend probably got him the most nasty fur ball he could find.
"What? You didn't name the Seviper?" Stan sounded disappointed.
"I didn't know what you wanted to name him, so I left it open." Jerry shrugged. And because his friend mentioned the subject, he then looked at the registered name for the Zangoose. "What the hell, man." He stared.
"I thought you would appreciate that." His friend (but he thought of denouncing that soon) laughed at him.
"Fuzzbitch? What kind of name is Fuzzbitch?" He looked sadly at the Pokéball that had the unfortunate Pokémon inside.
"It's an awesome name."
"Screw it man, I'm changing the name..." Jerry started scanning the options on the main screen.
"You can't." Stan grabbed his arm to get his attention.
"What?" Jerry blinked owlishly back at his darker haired friend.
"In honor of the original owner, you can't change the name." Stan shrugged again, "I haven't had her long, so it shouldn't take long for you to train her to come to another name."
"But her registered name will always be Fuzzbitch!" Jerry pushed him back.
"Hell yeah." he grinned.
"When I go to tournaments that's what they will announce!" Jerry felt a panic attack coming.
"And everyone will think you're a bad ass!"
"No! They will think I'm a horrible person!"
"Horribly awesome!"
"I hate you Stan!"
As they continued to argue, Fuzzbitch curled up tighter in her ball. Floating in the mist of black nothing, she didn't know what Jerry's problem was. As soon as he would try training her he would see her sassy attitude. She thought the name suited her perfectly.
Alas, poor Jerry, we knew him (somewhat) well.