The Pokemon Dictator
"Now students open your books to page 22, today we're going to learn how to maintain our Pokémon's health through grooming."
I wanted to barf as the room nodded in excitement. My Teacher Ms. Dyu smiled throwing the trademark pokeball in the air. A red light surged through the air and in a flash of white a Meowth appeared.
It purred loudly seeing Ms. Dyu. She smiled and picked up her comb,
"Now students…"
She began drabbling again. I tuned out as usual. Watching the sky gray outside. I was nine today and in a year I was expected to go on my own journey with a pokemon of my choosing. Yeah, my choosing. I glared, like I wanted to go on a pokemon journey.
I guess I was just weird like that…
A pencil was jabbed in my side. I turned to see Hilbert wave at me. Happy as usual.
"Hey Mark!" He whispered loudly. I had to smile, he maybe a pokemon fan. But that nut was still my best friend.
"You paying attention?"
I nodded no.
"Only to the cloud formation outside maybe." I mouthed. Hilbert rolled his eyes.
I might as well start now, my names Mark Thomason. I don't necessarily hate Pokemon, I just don't want to waste my life on them. I mean my Dad left to chase after them. That pretty much leaved a bitter taste in my mouth for them. But whatever. He was never really there when he was.
No, when I picture my life. I see gold clouds, silver carpets and white paper being thrust in my face. With important words on it. I call it the presidential dream.
That's right, I dream about being Mr. President when I grow up.
Not Ash Ketchum.
And I'll get there somehow…