Note: I can't believe I wrote a Pokemon fic.
Title:First Impression
By: Sadie DragonFire
Disclaimer: I don't own Pokemon, and I'm sure everyone likes it that way.
Summary: Gray's first thoughts of Ash
No warnings, almost no plot, just a stream of concious thought. Feedback welcome, if you actaully read this.
"You're Gary Oak, aren't you?"
Yes, that's me. You recognize me, how very clever of you. But who exactly are you, little one? In your green pajamas, cheeks all flushed, and sleep still in your eyes? I bet you just crawled out of bed.
Ash Ketchum.
Oh, right. I've seen you at school before. One of your friends pushed me in the mud, but don't worry, I won't hold that against you.
You've given me so much material as it is.
Pokemon trainer? Master even? High goals, kid, considering you couldn't even be bothered to get out of bed on time. Now I, I was up before dawn, the very first arrive at my grandfather's ranch. I'd studied all three of the beginner Pokemon thoroughly, you know. That's why I came so early, to make sure I got the perfect one-the one I knew would be the best for me. I also came to check out the other trainers.
To be the best in a battle, you must know both your weapons and your enemies. The other two trainers aren't particularly interesting. I say they'll fight a battle or three, maybe even earn a couple badges, but nothing more. They'll lose heart or interest, or whatever it is that draws us to Pokemon training in first place, and simply fade away into the woodwork. Grandpa says I have a good eye for these things.
And frankly, you've made a bad showing thus far. Did you know I waited here a half an hour for you? Such a waste of my ever-so-precious time. I could tell you, but I feel the significance would be lost on you. You're a bragger I can see that. A loudmouth, too. What a lovely combination.
Whose to say you'll even get a Pokemon? Sure, Grandpa did chose four of us this year, but I only saw three Pokeballs on that table. Grandpa is weird, he should be-spends all his time with Pokemon-but he's not senile. He's either got a trick up his sleeve or it's a test on his part. It's hard to tell.
You've gotten quite ruffled now. Don't like my barbs? How sad for you. Really, I should just dismiss you out hand and ride off into the proverbial sunset; tossing one last insult to the wind while my girls laugh from the backseat.
I should.
Except...
Except, I have a good eye for these things.
End.