Wally, Pokémon Trainer

Ooh, cool! What did I do to get you to come back? Was it my oh so wonderful smile? My charm? My personality? Great, now I'm sounding all big-headed. Fun fun!

Anyway, ignoring that weak moment of self-wanting, what are you doing here? Want to learn more about my ever so interesting life I'm guessing, right? Right? RIGHT?

Oh well, it's always nice to have company.

I find it quite ironic that the author of this story updated this, yet she won't update her other more ... What's the word I'm looking for? Where's that damn word-of-the-month calendar when you need it? Socialized was it? Whatever. For ya'll simpletons, whatever that means too, what I'm trying to say is, why the hell is this being updated? I don't know either actually. The author must love me!

Not. Ha, I'm such a kidder, that I am! Hmm, that's from another animé is it not?

Now where was I before I was rudely interrupted by someone "knocking at my chamber door?" That's a good poem, by the way, from where that line came from. Good, if not eerie. Why do I always go off topic? It's like that entire 'Orange' thing I kept mentioning a while ago. Oh! I figured out who that Orange person is! It's that boy from the uh ... Orange League.

Okay, so I made that up, sue me. Oh, and I also got that entire "color" thing down too! Now what was it again? Blue and Red go together with Green ... somewhere. Then it's Crystal, Gold and Silver and that Elite Four guy and stuff. Oh and ... uh, Ruby is Sapphire's rival and whoever Emerald is thrown in there somewhere. That's Brendan, May, and someone else. Me, maybe. And Yellow? She's still with Orange whoever that is. How come there isn't a Violet? I think that'd be a pretty cool person. Maybe even a Lightly Tan.

Anyway, what's the point of this chapter again? Oh, that's right, bitter friendships. Who the heck makes my friendship so bitter with Brendan and May? It's probably Brendan most likely. Ah yes, he was a jerk to me no doubt, and he still is. I mean, I've only known the guy for like a year, yet I guess I've been a jerk to him too! Fun! Blah.

"What the hell are you doing, Birch? I know May is taking a long time in the bathroom, but can't you hold it instead of relieving yourself in a leafless bush?"

"Can it, Wood!"

"Can it, Wood ..." Sounds like those toys like Sudowoodo Logs where you cram the piece of wood into a ... can? Oh, screw it!

Oh, you wanna know the funniest thing about it though? Brendan literally barked that line out! "Can it, Wood!" Haha! Wood, bark ... Get it? Okay, I see that you don't care. Shut up! Stop laughing at me! I'm telling my mommy!

Nah, kidding.

But I could.

But I won't.

Speaking of which, I think Brendan has a problem. No, not like a bladder problem or anything, but then again, he could have one seeing as he was trying to piss in a bush that had no leaves.

But you know, problem, as in ... as in ... I don't know. Something like "someone threatened me to kill someone but if I don't, they will kill the person I was suppose to kill, the person who threatened me would kill me, and a person that I loved!"

Does that make sense? That would be a scary predicament now that I think about it. But anyway, now that I'm done with the entire Brendan explanation, I have a question for you guys ...

Why do you hate me?

Is it because I have green hair? Because I'm sick? Because I used to like May? I've read your Wally bashing stories! DON'T LIE TO ME!

Traitors.

I don't know who you betrayed in the first place, but it sounded like a good place to say it.

But all in all, do me a favor and state clearly why you hate me and send it to Pokémon Trainer Wally at . I would greatly appreciate it!

By the way, that's not a real e-mail address for all you geniuses out there.

But anyway ... Seriously, why DO you hate me? What have I done to you? Am I stupid? I'm not some big, purple dinosaur or anything! Sheesh. It scares me 'cause maybe one day, for all I know, some hater might come and shoot me down! Or all of a sudden come into my bed room in the middle of the night with a steak knife clutched in his hand ready to strike my heart!

Wow, that was poetic huh? "In the middle of the moonlit night, a shadowy man clutch a steely steak knife. He punctured it through my heart, but I could not feel the unbearable pain for fear itself took over my brain." Woo. Power to the poems, my friend! Yes, I know, that did not flow nor did it have a good rhyming pattern either, but meh. That's right! MEH!

I believe I have some dedicated fans out there, it's just that I can't see them. You can pick your own reasons why I can't see them. Either I'm mobbed by haters, mobbed by people who just "love" me for some strange reason, or I'm so caught up in my somewhat depressing life, I can't see five inches in front of my face.

Remember in the last chapter where I said I would venture out in an open crowd of fans or some crappity crap like that? Yeah, that's like ten, maybe fifteen, people even though I make it sound like thirty or forty. Still, a guy can wish. All those screaming fans ...

Drool. It's all I really wanted, I suppose.

Moving on, let's talk about you! How is your life? Spiffy? Spiffy. That's a new word.

Look, the holidays are coming! They bring me such joy in my dull, dull, oh so boring, world.

What's that? Sarcasm you say? Not again! How did you know?

I didn't have a bad childhood I suppose, but it's just that I always felt cramped up in that little, one story house in Petalburg where my mom would fuss over me and my dad would make sure I was alright. Yes, you all know that I was a "sickly boy" as my mother says. Apparently Ho-Oh didn't like me when he picked my traits. I believe I've said that before though, except with Latios who, in fact, does not control what traits I have.

But anyway, it was nice to get attention, but when I was little, I wanted to play outside instead of being secured in my plaster, wood, and concrete home, watching reruns of that dumb Pokémon anime.

Oh, I'm sorry, did I say it was dumb? I meant stupid.

Nah, I'm kidding again. You guys know me so well!

Stupid and dumb are the same thing huh? Whatever. Back on topic, I would watch kids play with their toy Pokémon, and I would peer out on their card battle outside through my bedroom window like I was a scientist observing a Pokémon's new behavior or something. I was the predator and they were the prey. I would rule. All your bases belong to us. ALL OF THEM I SAY!

That line doesn't work for what I'm trying to say. Let me put in more simpler terms ... I WANTED TO GET OUT OF THAT DAMN HOUSE!

"Mom, can I PLEASE go outside? Just for five minutes, please! I'm begging you! I'm on my knees! I'm on all fours! I'm going to cry now mom! Waaaaah!"

"So, dear, how was your day?"

Why do parents always think they can get away with anything by saying, "How was your day, dear?"

By the way, how was your day, dear?

Moving on once again – k, we're not moving on, we're going back somewhat. To my childhood 'cause I ran out of talk topics at the momento. Is that a word? Momento? Moment, momentum, mementos ... whatever.

Seven years old, only . . . five, six, seven years ago. Let's see . . . This was a time of young innocence where girls had cooties, and having Pokémon Cards was the 'in' thing. Not for me though.

"Hey look. Chris! The sick, little midget has come out to play!"

"I'm not a sick, little midget!"

"Yuh huh!"

"Nuh uh!"

"Don't talk to Wallace over there, Tony! We might get his cooties!"

"I don't have cooties!"

"Hey! What are those?"

"Those are mine! Give them back!"

"Latios, he has the Limited Edition Swampert card! These are so hard to get!"

"I know, so give it back!"

"No, I think I'll keep it, Waterloo."

I miss my Swampert card ... I guess. Well Brendan has that Pokémon so ... ja. Ha, I went all German on yah. Of course "ja" is the only word I know in German, and even then, I'm still not sure if it is actual German.

But yet, that's an extremely mild version of the bad times of my childhood. Please remind me to kick that boy's ass at the Ever Grande League. Heh.

I end a paragraph with "heh?" Well, aren't I original? But anyway, they say cherish your childhood memories because you can never go back to them when your older. Okay, so no ones says that. It does bring up a good point though. I would have enjoyed my childhood more if I found out that my life would turn out like this. Known to be public enemy number one to Brendan at the age of fourteen! Well, at least I'm known right? Better than some trainers can say.

And now you're thinking, "Damn, this Wally loser complain a lot! Doesn't he know that his life is better than others out there?" So am I right? I'm trying to enter this psychic competition, and it turns out the trainer has to be psychic along with the Pokémon. Oh, you weren't thinking it? Well you're thinking it now, aren't you? Ha, I'm good.

Yes, I do know that my life is better than others. So Latios didn't hate me as bad as I thought. I got blessed with a Ralts the first time I stepped into wild grass. I met May, one of the nicest girls that ever talked to me (besides my mommy again that is). I got some more rare Pokémon like my Delcatty, or my Altaria. I helped defeat Maxie, one of the most hunted down men today, and I'm on my way to the Pokémon League in at least two months! I guess thinking about the good things in your life makes you feel better.

But then you realize ...

You have a whole lot of shit ahead of you.

Fun.

- - -

Wally leaned on his elbow on the windowsill, the soft breeze running their invisible hands through his dark-green hair. He enlarged his only Pokémon's Pokéball, Ralts, and began to talk to her through it.

"You know, Ralts?" Wally began, sighing. "It's weird that my aunt rarely lets Wanda stay in all day, but she won't let me even set foot outside this house without someone to look out for me! Is my mom making sure that I don't leave?" Wally closed his eyes, a wave of sickness washing through his mind. It wasn't like he was "sick" sick, but just sick as in get headaches and having trouble breathing all the time. How was he suppose to get better and smell the fresh air when his aunt kept him cooped up in a place called "home?"

"I should just ... run away!" he proclaimed, knocking his head on the window, soon rubbing the top on his head. "I can make it on my own without anyone's help! I don't need anyone except me, myself and I! And some Pokémon of course." He shrunk down Ralts' Pokéball. "But who am I kidding? Me? Even if I do leave, they're bound to find me by nightfall. It's useless. I'll never get to travel, never get to be Pokémon Champion, never learn about new Pokémon, or never figure out if a Magikarp or Feebas is weaker!"

Wally collapsed on his bed and stared at the white, plaster ceiling, blowing his bangs out of his face. "I just have to get out somehow. I have to be like Norman and travel the region! I have to beat Brendan Birch in a Pokémon battle! I have to see May again! I have to be strong! I have to make it! Wow, I never knew that I was so good at high-hope speeches." He hopped out of bed and opened the door a crack. Finding no one outside the hallway, he walked into the kitchen and found a yellow note taped onto the refrigerator.

"Hmm, what's this?" Wally walked over to the fridge and pulled off the note. "'Dear Wally, your uncle and I went to Mauville to do some grocery shopping. Wanda and her boyfriend should be here around 2:30 so don't you leave like last time! Challenging the gym leader honestly.'" He shrugged at this part. "She makes it sound stupid the way she phrases it." The green-haired soon-to-be-trainer turned around to look at the Skitty clock. 2:04 P.M.

"Well." He smirked triumphantly. "It looks like I only have twenty-six minutes to get ready for my journey."

Wally ran back down the hallway and into his room, closing the door behind him. He threw open the closet door, almost breaking it off its hinges, and pulled out a pair of baggy khaki pants and a white button up shirt. He pulled his pants over his green boxers and changed shirts. He then clipped on his black leather belt that held his PokéNav and up to six Pokéballs and put Ralts' Pokéball and his PokéNav in the right slots. Bending down, he reached under his bed, pulling out a black backpack with four pockets. He quickly shoved extra clothes, money, and his very few Pokéballs and Potions in there and zipped it up. He stood up and took a last glance over his room if he missed anything. Taking a final sweep of his room for confirmation, he jumped out the window and landed in the soft dirt, not taking the chance of using the front door in case Wanda came home early.

Fives steps later, Wally jumped backed into the room, slapping his head. "I forgot my shoes!" He walked over to the side of his bed and picked up his green and white shoes, slipping them over his dirty socks thanks to the ground. About to jump out the window again, he paused, one foot outside, the other in.

"Maybe I should leave a note," he pondered out loud. He unzipped his backpack and pulled out his dark blue journal. Ripping out a piece, he began to write.

Dear Wanda,

It's me, Wally. Just wanted to let you know that I ran away from home so that I could start my journey. Please don't worry about me. I can take care of myself, you know. You guys just never gave me the chance. Don't look for me. I'll come back when the time is right. Tell Aunt and Uncle Wood thanks ... for everything.

- Wally

Giving his letter a flourished signature at the end, he folded the note into halves and placed it on his pillow. Turning around, one leg out the window again, he sighed, hoping that he wasn't making a mistake. He got his entire body outside the window and took in a breath of fresh air only to collapse on his knees in pain. Wally scrunched up his face in agony, trying to rid his head of the sickness. He felt his body tense up and his breath was coming out in short and quick gasps. He held up a hand to his chest, his eyes clenching together. His head began to clear and he opened his eyes. Everything was blurry, and Wally blinked twice to clear his vision.

"Latios, how am I suppose to travel when every five minutes I collapse?" The green-haired boy cried in anguish, his head bent down. "Maybe mom was right ... Maybe I should stay here in Veranturf." His eyes began to glaze over but he dared not let one of those tears escape. "No!" he yelled as his head looked back up in a sharp manner. His emerald-colored eyes sparkled with determination. "I am going to go on this journey no matter what the consequence! Mark my words – in fact." Wally opened a pocket of his back pack and took out a pocket knife. He turned to face the peach, plaster wall. He carved words below his window and pocketed the knife before staring gloatingly at the words.

For the words engraved in the plaster were: Here stood Wally, Pokémon Trainer.