A/N: Something different than my usual style. More stories to come next week, for this and for my neglected tales! Read and review, if you please! Have an excellent day!

I need to pee. Like, really badly. 'Just been on a ten mile hiking trip in the Sahara' badly. Unfortunately, my idiot Girafarig thinks that it's a human and, consequently, has to use our toilet.

I banged on the door. "Yo, Jimbo! Other people have to use the bathroom! Wait, what am I saying? You're a Pokemon! Get it?"

The door cracked open and a roll of toilet paper nailed me in the forehead. Sighing, I slumped against the wall. Sometimes, being a Pokemon trainer sucked.

Jessica Milikan, Hard Luck Trainer

By MiscellaneousSoup

So, my usual exciting schedule goes a little something like this.

6:25 am: Wake up.

6:30 am: Wake up Girafarig.

6:45 am: Continue trying to wake up Girafarig.

7:00 am: Give up and get ready for the morning.

7:15 am: Eat Mom's famous pancakes. Ignore Girafarig's pleading eyes. Show no mercy. If he gets even one crumb, he'll leap onto my plate and get everything. It's happened before.

7:15:30 am: Give Girafarig a pancake, laugh as he licks my face.

7:32 am: Take Girafarig out for a good training session. Or, at the very least, a training session.

7:35 am: Teach Girafarig Quick Attack.

7:40 am: Sigh and try again.

7:45 am: Avoid getting trampled by obstinate Girafarig.

7:50 am: Girafarig uses Quick Attack...on me. Give up and take a shower. Wipe off dirt, grass stains, and mud clumps.

8:15 am: Longingly look at motivational posters of Pokemon trainers.

8:20 am: Grow frustrated and tear apart posters.

8:25 am: Lovingly repair posters with tape. Note to Self: These are getting raggedy. Get new posters.

8:30-Variable: Do nothing, eat meals, go to bed.

See? Nothing. Nada. A big stinking clump of boredom and incompetence. When my friends were ten, they found good starter Pokemon. I got a stubborn, lazy, smelly Girafarig. Why a Girafarig? They're hardly in our town! Naive little ten-year-old me tried to train it and failed. Naive little ten-year-old friends successfully trained their Pikachu, Gengar, Bulbasar, or what have you. Even grade-A moron Bobby got his Klefki to capture a legendary Pokemon. Cynical sixteen year old me is bored to tears in a small town. What is there to do? Usually, everyone's a trainer by ten. If you're like me, you're going to get stuck working at the PokeCenter or PokeMall or something until the sweet release of death. Well, death or a good Pokemon.

Am I really the only teenager in town? No! There's others who took some alternate jobs, but they require being good with Pokemon. Also, they require people skills and I think that most people are the Devil's toenail crust. At least they are in my town. Do you know what they call me? Jessica "Milk Man" Milikan! If they want to make up a degrading nickname, they could at least make up an interesting one! For God's sake, 'milk can' sounds more like Milikan, but I'm not about to correct them. Things may be intolerable, but they can't be worse. This is the Lord Of Darkness, signing off. Peace.

Sighing, I posted the blog post to my blog, . . I like my blog. It keeps me sane. Now, what else to do? Browse the Internet for more training tips? Search for more motivational posters? Watch clips of comedians? Before I could enter anything into the browser, my mom called me into her office.

Grumbling, I closed the laptop and trudged in. "Yes, Mom?"

She waved at me and continued organizing some papers. "Jess, I have some good news."

News of a good variety? This intrigued me. I decided to take the bait. "What is it? Did you trade in Girafarig for a new Pokemon?"

Mom put down her papers and chuckled. "Sweetie, I would never do that. Girafarig loves out." Outside, I could hear him chewing up what sounded suspiciously like the remains of my posters! I hated going through his poop.

"You have a job."

I started coughing. "Sorry, what?"

Mom smiled. "A job! The leader of the Young Trainer League. I volunteered you to take his place last week. The letter came today!"

I smiled weakly. "Thanks, Mom! That's great. I'm going to go look up some more information on Girafarigs. Bye!"

Quickly, I scurried to my room. Crap, crap, CRAP! I hated the YTL! It's full of snooty little kids! The little brats throw mud at me when they see me trying to walk my Girafarig. Back when I was a snooty member, we had respect! Worst of all, how could I teach a dozen or so little kids how to train their Pokemon if I couldn't even get mine under control? Oh, well. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Statistically, Girafarig couldn't be the worst Pokemon in the world!

Inside my room, Girafarig was pooping on my pillow. Yeah, these next few weeks were going to be spectacular.

To be continued...