So, how did my journey begin? I guess it all started when I got that damned sword…

I remember that day. I was playing video games in the middle of my big, spacious room of the Silph Co. building. From the 10th floor I could see over every building in Saffron, far enough to watch the rosy glow of dawn break around the distant peaks of Rock Tunnel. A cool, early morning breeze blew in from the open window, ruffling the yellow curtains.

The walls and shelves were cluttered with books and electronics, various pokemon dolls, a bed in one corner; gifts my dad had imposed upon me. He was always bribing me with lame pokemon stuff. But the vast, empty space in the middle was all mine.

I was playing this straightforward little farming game on the outdated gameboy I'd bought with my own money last summer. No stupid surprises, no annoying frills, and (most importantly) no pokemon. Just plant, water, harvest. The game was simple and perfect, and all was well.

Until, that is, I accidentally dug up some ancient sword of power which just so happened to be buried in my turnip patch. Flashing fireworks bombarded the screen as bugle fanfare blared triumphantly. But my character's jubilee was quickly interrupted by a small pack of wolves crawling through my fence, apparently hungry for turnips. I stared at the gameboy incredulously. Like, really? The wolves attacked.

Twice I tapped the B button. Twice the sword flickered across the screen, and 8 times the speakers thumped with the dropping of dead wolves. Blood and coins sprayed from the halved carcasses, showering my little guy with gore and glory. I spent 12 stunned seconds trying to digest the carnage in front of me. "What the f-"

That's when my dad slammed the door open, something only he could do. Due either to disgust or surprise I dropped the gameboy as I looked up. My dad, president of Silph Co.- the most important man in Saffron, maybe even all of Kanto. He never knocked. He just sauntered right in. I knew from the unbridled excitement on his face that I was in for trouble.

"Xian! Glad you're up. I have great news!" he trilled, but he didn't need to continue. Every year around my birthday Dad cooked up another inane scheme to force me into my own pokemon adventure, and it never worked. I looked out the window as he began his spiel.

A fat little pidgey wafted through the yellow curtains and landed on my windowsill. "Son, you'll be 14 soon. You've finally graduated trainer school, at the top of your class, let's not forget, but still you have not yet caught your first pokemon." As if I had forgotten. "Why, when I was your age…"

I was straightening out my counterarguments when a sudden, horrible realization dawned upon me. I was 14 years old. I had just graduated pokemon school. And my most solid defense against getting kicked out of town had just expired. For Arce's sake, I only went to that school so he'd shut up about my journey!

I shot the pidgey a dirty look. Obliviously it preened its dirty feathers, leaving downy little fluffballs to float around my room. Intruding on my sanctuary and littering? Unbelievable. I looked back at Dad, who was feverishly prattling on. "…high time you started an adventure of your own!

"Now, son, I have noticed your… aversion to pokemon, and I understand perfectly. I had my misgivings when I first started out, too. New things can be daunting, even scary at times..." Ugh... I will never capture you, I silently vowed to the roosting intruder. The bird studied me with cool, calculating eyes. Then it turned itself around and ruffled its tail feathers in my face. The nerve!

"…which is why I've decided to nudge you in the right direction with a modest investment in your future. I'm proud to announce that Silph Co. will be sponsoring your pokemon expedition by providing you with your very first pokemon! It's waiting for you in the conference room."

Wait, WHAT? "NO!" My stomach dropped. I swear I could hear the pidgey cackling at me from the windowsill. "No! No no no no no… No. I will not. Send that little demon back to whatever hole it crawled out of."

"The laboratory?" he laughed. "No, son, you don't understand. This was a very expensive project. We're launching a new line of starter pokemon to the general public and you're the poster child for our advertising campaign. The entire nation will be following your journey to the top!"

Dad kept talking, but the entire world went mute. I blacked out all the clutter and there I was on my island in the center, just a boy and his beanbag. He had finally cornered me. I finally had my first pokemon. In a way it was almost a relief, losing this way.

"…meeting in one hour. See you there. Oh, and clean up this room. It looks like a tornado hit," he added cryptically. He always said that to me, but I could never figure out why. My room was pristine. He slammed the door on his way out.

Immediately, but smoothly, disarmingly I sauntered over to the window. The pidgey cooed as it turned its head slightly, regarding me with one eye. "You think you're so cool, eavesdropping on me and spreading your lousy feathers around? You think you can perch on my turf and moon me in front of my dad? Well then," I said, and I slammed the window shut on its stupid tail feathers. "Perch on that."

The pidgey screeched as it tore itself loose and flew away, leaving two long feathers pinned beneath the window. I dropped myself in a huffy pile on the bean bag chair and kicked my gameboy across the room. My dad forcing a starter on me… Why was everyone so obsessed with pokemon?

I mean, think about it. The way grown men and women prance around, obsessing over whose pet is the most violent, trading phone numbers with children and gambling on battles; it's ridiculous! How empty must the lives of these people be if they would devote them entirely to raising monsters?

Sometimes it seems like nobody has a real job that isn't geared toward pokemon training, which makes no sense. Is our entire economy supported by battling? Could those stupid commercials during the pokemon league championships possibly earn enough for a battle-based economy? Or is our government privately funding the league so they can raise some kind of child military force? The numbers just don't add up.

That's how I was sitting, stewing in my chair like that, basically basting in my own juices, when suddenly my room exploded.

Well, imploded, to be accurate. The window panes shattered inward as two huge Whirlwinds burst through the opening. My world turned upside-down as I was caught up and tossed around in a swirling tornado of splinters, broken glass, and plush dolls. I must have hit my head on every surface in the room twice before the winds dissipated.

There I lay, flat on my back, dazed, with those two pesky tail feathers resting gently on my face. Surprisingly, the layout of my room hadn't changed much, with most of the debris shoved against the walls, leaving the middle clear. I snatched the feathers up and ran to the erstwhile window, now a crater in the wall.

"I'm keeping these as souvenirs, you fat little dick!" I yelled to the empty sky. "This isn't over!" A rational person might have been worried the neighbors would hear him yelling threats at the open sky, but all my neighbors lived like 8 floors below. It was just me and the birds up here.

So I tidied up and prepared for the meeting.