"Do You Like Charmanders?"
It was December 18, 2009, the day before the first day of Christmas break. I was sitting alone in my English classroom during lunch break. I had chosen to eat in seclusion from those of inferior intelligence. Those imbeciles could not even begin to comprehend the complexity of my sexual preferences, so they responded to it with ridicule and torment.
Not one person at this establishment could even begin to fathom my Charmander fetish.
'Now, Jared,' you may ask, 'why a Pokémon? Certainly there are other things to be attracted to, like, oh, I don't know, something real and with breasts!' Well, human; allow me to elaborate on my reasons before I tell you what happened on that day.
At the vulnerable age of six, my mother and father parental units gave me a Nintendo Game Boy and the Pokémon Red Version game cartridge for Christmas. They opted to get me the Red version, as they noticed my fascination with the color red from a very young age, for I would gouge at their wedding photo with a red crayon. Isn't that charming? Yes. Yes it is.
I ripped open the packaging of both gifts and immediately became dumb-founded. What was I to do with these contraptions? The father unit consulted the user manual and informed me that I was to stick the hard, red thing into the slot. This would serve as foreshadowing for things to come.
Sitting in my bedroom, I booted up this giant gray brick my parents gave me. The "Title Screen" appeared on the liquid crystal display and told me to press the "Start" key. Then, it prompted me to start a "New Game." When this happened, a decrepit old man appeared on the screen. He asked me what my name was, and I became stricken with confused emotions. The mother and father units instructed me to never talk to strangers, especially ones who wanted to know my name or see my bathing suit area. The man on the News Channel referred to this sort of stranger as a "pedal file." This man introduced himself as "Professor Oak," obviously alluding to his tree-like genitalia. I paced the floor of my miniscule bedroom, pondering the decision of whether or not to trust this pedal file. He had shown me the "magic within his balls,"another term mother had warned me against. I remembered that she told me to consult her whenever this sort of thing happened, so I did just that.
"Woman, come hither!" I ordered from the top of the staircase. The father unit, whose room was located across the hall from mine, came out and scolded me for referring to the mother unit in such a manner.
"Oh, please!" I scoffed. "I refuse to be lectured by the likes of your intelligence!"
Flabbergasted by my well-crafted put down, he remained silent.
When the mother unit came up the stairs, I showed her the liquid crystal display and consulted with her on whether this pedal file could be trusted. She reviewed what Oak had shared with me and told me it was OK to accept. Bah!! Such hypocrisy in these individuals! They tell me "NEVER!" to do something, only to make petty exceptions to their absolutes. But no matter. On with the tale.
Next, this senile twat told me he forget his own grandchild's name. Luckily, I was able to lie in this program, and he just went along with it. I told him his grandson's name is "UGLY," to which he replied, "That's right! My Grandson's name is UGLY!" That he is ass hat… That he is…
So, apparently in this program, I live in Pallet Town, a town so miniscule there are only two residential buildings, but alas, living in Idaho I am used to such things. I found this town unexciting, so I decided to leave into the disgusting blob of pixels the game designers hoped I believed were grass stalks. I took one step into this area, and the pedal file rushed up to me and told me it was dangerous out there: Pedal File Code for wanting my butt. This program would not let me respond "No!" to the miserable boob, so I ended up following him against my will to his "Lab."
In this bizarre place, he introduced me to UGLY, whose wretchedness could only be matched by my mother unit. I was instructed to pick a Pokémon, apparently the namesake of this program, off the table in the area. The first creature I looked at was a sin against nature named 'Bulbasaur.' From the looks of it, a Satan praising scientist infused the DNA of a dinosaur and a plant. There's where our tax payers are sending their money! Next was a water-based turtle with a constipated look and a squirrel's tail name Squirtle. I had almost given up when I looked at the next Pokémon. I selected it and then… up popped the love of my life! Charmander!
An unfamiliar bodily sensation overcame me. I felt uncomfortable, yet so pleased at the same time! This certainly would be the creature of my choosing.
Charmander! Even the name evokes crippling emotions that cause both Heaven and Hell's angels to sing out in unison! His flaming tail was parallel to the flame burning within my bosom and my pants!
UGLY chose the water turtle, as I knew he would.
I began to walk out of this accursed place when UGLY stopped me in my tracks. He wanted to "battle" our newly attained creatures. This program would not let me adequately insult this twat. In fact, it would not let me respond at all! I remained silent while he insulted my pride!
The liquid crystal display swirled, I and was thrust to a new screen. But, what was this!? Charmander's behind! It was even more beautiful than I originally imagined!
On this screen, I was given some options, but the one I selected was "Attack." Two options appeared: "Scratch" and "Growl." Being confounded by such terms, I selected the first, just hoping for the best.
My creature then proceeded to attack his. Then his tackled mine. A feeling of pleasure and discomfort overcame me at that point far greater than anything I had felt before. Charmander was such a naughty boy… Very naughty indeed… These two creatures took turns dealing blows as I grew increasingly uncomfortable. "Charmander, you're so naughty!" I exclaimed aloud. I knew then that my love for Charmander could only grow from that point on.
The rest of that Christmas break was spent in my room, fantasizing about Charmander. I learned that these individuals called "Gym Leaders" were how I progressed in this program. I noticed that Charmander's fire attacks were weak against the first two of these individuals, but that vulnerability only made him more desirable. I tried to visualize in my head how exactly the act of making love to Charmander would work, but every situation ended with the scalding of my genitalia on his tail. This only made me want him more. Charmander was playing hard to get.
The first gym leader, a Jap-eyed man named "Brock," specialized in rock-type Pokémon. All was fair and good until he sent out a creature named "Onyx." It used an unbearably arousing move called "Bind" on my Charmander. This move caused my terribly naughty Charmander to be put in to bondage for a few turns.
Oh! How filthy were those game designers!!!
After Christmas break, I returned to my educational facility. I learned that many of those unintelligent wretches received the same program I had for the holiday, some with the Blue variation. They would bring their devices to school, link them up with a cable, trade their slaves, and battle them.
On January 26, my life changed forever.
I linked up with a boy named Kyle, the only one of these miserable saps I could even begin to bear. We started a battle, one in which I chose my Charmander and he chose an Onyx.
Onyx! Oh dear! Not here! Anywhere but here!
"Umm… ex-excuse me, good sir," I stuttered, "could you not use that creature?"
"Oh, come on!" Kyle taunted. "Quit being such a baby, Jared!"
"Baby!? I'll have you know that my sexual maturity surpasses yours by at least five earth years!"
"Wah, wah, wah! I'm Jared, and I'm a little baby!"
He had tormented me for the last time. "Very well then, Kyle. We will play by your rules!"
I was able to move first, but when he moved, he decided to use Bind, of all moves!!!
(!charmander…you're so naughty!)
Please stop….. Please stop….
"Whatcha gonna do now, baby?"
Naughty… naughty…
Just then, the Caterpie in my pants used String Shot, causing my social growth stat to decrease by 95%.
Oh, no! The laughing! The pointing! Oh, how I wish I could forget that day!
"You peed your pants! You peed your pants!" They all chanted over and over.
"Silence, you fools! It is not "urine" or "pee" as you would call it! It is "semen!" It's a fluid compulsory in the procreation of infants!"
"Baby makes babies! Baby makes babies!" They chanted to the same tune.
That day, I was able to go home and change my pants before recess ended, but I was never able to change the happenings of that dreadful day.
Throughout my school years, my homework grew increasingly difficult, so much so that it required the use of the Internet. On this fascinating device I found that I was not alone in my fetish for Charmander. On a website called "deviantART" I found page after page of "Charmander in bondage by Onyx" art. I told no one, not even my mother, of my obsession for years until I befriended "Lucas," who was a boy my age I met my sophomore year. He seemed so kind to me, so I thought I could trust him, but I soon found out that you can't trust anyone but Charmander. I showed him the art I looked at regularly, but only guffawed at me and called my obsession "ridiculous." I made him promise not to tell anyone, but soon enough the entire school knew about it. Students from all walks of life brought Charmander dolls up to me and said, "Do you like Charmanders?" I tried to deny it, but everyone could see the erection I obtained whenever a Charmander was in sight.
So here we are now. I was sitting in my classroom my junior year, alone. I was an outcast, unable to conform. The wretched mother unit made me a peanut butter sandwich for lunch, when all I truly wanted in life was a Charmander sandwich.
Luckily, the Spirit of Christmas heard my wish that day. Time around me froze as a bright personage descended in my direction. "Jared," the female voice called out to me, "what troublest thou?"
"Oh, Spirit of Christmas! The fact that Charmanders do not exist troubles me. My one true love is unattainable except on some sort of screen. Will you help in making my Christmas wish come true?"
"Very well. Please word your wish exactly how you want it."
"I wish I could make love to Charmander."
With a wave of her hand, I began to transform and teleport. The next thing I knew, I was making sweet Charmander sandwiches in a Pokémon daycare.
This is my reality now. Why did I tell you this story? Well, I feel the answer is quite obvious. I was just wondering:
Do you like Charmanders?
THE END