I.
"GROWLITHE, BITE HIS FUCKING HEAD OFF!"
And that's about it for my coaching.
The Growlithe sailed through the air, like an orange-furred brig on water, paws out, ready to make a kill. Killing wasn't exactly accepted by the rules of Pokémon battles, but David Grimm was staking out large sums of money on this fight, and was ready to do anything.
That's me. I'm David Grimm. And first off: I don't really care whether those creatures out there get hurt. Even less if they get killed. This is all about thrills. And cash.
There are also moments I get lightheaded, wondering Just how does it remain in the air for so long like that? It's almost as if it's flying. But then Growlithe pounces upon the intimidating Scizor, and there's a spurt of blood. Growlithe's blood.
Bad for me.
"Hrowr!" Growlithe yelps. It lands on the ground. I end up kneeling down toward it and screaming my head off. If it wasn't going to fight, it might as well lay there, because it'll be dead after I'm through with it. This piece of counseling gave it motion.
Scizor's red clam claw struck down onto Growlithe's back. Scizor then proceeded to stomp on Growlithe's face using its foot.
I threw my hands up. "Come on! Come on, goddamnit!" It was too late, though. Growlithe had been defeated, and anything I said to try to get it up was for naught.
By now, my opponents were looking mighty smug. Chas and Theo Wilter. They began moving in my direction, all smirks, prepared for their money. But if they were expecting that, they had another thing coming.
I slammed my fist into the first brother's gut, and brought it down onto his head when he threw forward. The second brother backed up, shocked, but was alert enough to bring out his switchblade. His arm came to my left side, holding the blade. Freaking out, I grabbed that arm and pushed against it. I felt an application of pressure and realized that the cutting edge was prodding my skin. Instinctively, I kicked the kid, nailing him in the one place no guy should ever have to be kicked.
Walking off with his knife, my next goal became clear. I was on the path to my house, taking out a Pokéball and retrieving the collapsed Pokémon. I had my eye on that Scizor, but it was already tending to the fallen boys.
The sun was setting by the time I was settled in my backyard. When I got there, I released Growlithe from its mechanical cocoon.
"So what do you have to say for yourself?" I inquired.
Growlithe just lowered its head, whimpering.
I unbuckled my belt and slid it off. "I was nearly cut because of you!" The loop I made with the belt connected hard with the Pokémon. Much like it did with Scizor, it faltered.
Repeatedly thwacking it with my belt, I shouted profanity and assorted reasons for this punishment. "I couldn't have paid that sort of money! What if I wasn't able to beat them up?? I was dependent on you!"
Growlithe moaned horribly underneath the power of the pseudo-whip. I brought it down with all my force.
Hearing all the commotion, the mother of David Grimm (that's me, again) looked out the window. She saw me belting the Growlithe and went, "Oh god." Out came Mother and Father, appalled at what I was doing.
"Stop it! Stop it now!" my mom wailed. She gripped the collar of her peach sweater. "You're not supposed to do this!"
Dad concernedly opined, "Discipline's one thing, but what you're doing is barbaric."
"Oh yea?" It was time for me to be a little cocky. "I should be doing this more often, to prepare for my trip!"
He frowned. "We were discussing that earlier. We want you to stay here."
"WHY?"
"We're afraid of what you might do," my mother said.
My mother said that.
Un-fucking-believable.
"Un-fucking-believable," later I whispered.
As I crawled through my bedroom window.
My parents have a habit of never breaking habits. So I could be sure that at 10:30 sharp, they'd be asleep. Sleeping like logs, no less—a trait I myself have inherited.
I hate being outside at night, though. Especially near my home. We live out near the woods. There's always chirping of some kind. And water. Water is constantly sloshing nearby, here on Cinnabar Islands.
I did my best to ignore all this, and find a boat.
His parents had actually tried to stop him from going on his "journey," a.k.a. his excuse out of school. The sooner they figure out that they can't tell him what to do, he figured, the sooner their lives will become simpler. Guess this will just be my sly way of teaching them.
David gripped the Pokéball with his Growlithe inside, ready for anything. He stole a close rental boat and started it up. The motor roared as the small boat glided across the water.
"I just love my life," he said as the wind whistled through his hair.
Silence all but the sound of the running motor. With no more than this to amuse him, his brain started operating. That's when he realized just how stupid he was. He left… everything… and he didn't have any food. No provisions of any sort. It's kind of strange, figuring out how much of an idiot you are. It reminded him of the time he went out with Pauline. God, how he hated her. If there was any sole human being guilty of being ignorant, it was her. But he had been desperate for tail.
She was an easy fuck.
The reader at this time must be thinking, What the bloody hell? A 12-year-old is talking about an easy fuck? Well, David Grimm would like to set things straight by saying that twelve-year-olds are horny bastards. They're only a year away from being a teenager—entering puberty. And when that stage in the game comes, when anything can set you off, when you have no self-control, watch out.
3 hours after he first set off, David Grimm came to Pallet Town.
"So that's it," David said, tilting the motor as he saw land.
Indeed, there wasn't any better way to describe Pallet Town than as "it." It was an ugly place, very simple; that much he saw even in the darkness of night, as he explored on foot.
He didn't like the place, and yet he did like the place. Because there was no chirping of whichever kind. The nights were absolutely chirp-less.
He had heard that in this town, you were able to go on your journey as early as ten-years-old. However, at Cinnabar Islands, that was not the case; it was 12. How could two locations, separated by mere miles of water, have such different rules?
David caught sight of a particular building. It rested among many other small buildings rounded in a village-like borough, as if in an egg basket, set outside wilderness. No unique attributes made it seem dissimilar from the others. Yet David knew how it was special.
"That's the famous Professor Oak's lab."
He walked to the building hoping nobody would see him. But of course nobody would see him. Everybody was asleep. He opened a window and crept through.
Professor Oak was snoring inside his bed. David tiptoed down the hall and into a room. He closed the door and flipped a light switch beside him. A bright light beamed down on a small platform mechanism.
"Let's see," David muttered as he searched the domed machine. He pressed a yellow button and the glass dome opened.
"Hah!" David exclaimed.
He realized what he had just done and quickly covered his mouth.
Meanwhile, in the bedroom… Professor Oak stirred from his sleep.
"Huh? What was that?"
He slowly got up. He walked across in his pajamas and Wigglytuff slippers.
David heard Professor Oak walking down the hall. He had been so stupidly loud, that the old kook had woken up. He quickly snatched the three Pokéballs, opened the window, and jumped out.
Professor Oak walked into the room.
"Hey, the lights weren't on here last time. Hey! Where are the Pokéballs?!"
Professor Oak hurried over to the machine that carried them. They were all gone.
"Charmander! Squirtle! Bulbasaur! They're all gone!"
He noticed that the window was open. He looked out. But he didn't notice David hiding right underneath.
"Dang kids. When will they learn?"
Professor Oak moved back in and turned off the light.
"Guess I'll have to catch more. But what will those beginning trainers do without beginner Pokémon? I guess I'll have to offer that Pikachu. I know what will cheer me up. A sushi sandwich. Mmmmm!"
"Blech!" David crept away from the building.
He got a bite to eat, at someone else's expense.
Then headed north, into the woods…
II.
The woods of Pallet Town were nearly identical to those of Cinnabar Islands. Same types of trees, same types of berries.
There was nobody else out this late at night. David Grimm didn't feel like sleeping. He instead decided to keep walking until he hit the big city. He dreamed of buying Pokémon by the dozen using the cash and credit card from his mom's purse.
"Pwwwwwwwiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!"
David looked around.
"What the hell was that?"
He stopped and waited. "Pwwi!" it came again. "Pwi! Pwi! Pwi!" It kept sounding off.
And yet, David couldn't find where whatever it was, was. A moment or two of listening, and was off again, ignoring it. Essentially, it was the same as the chirps of Cinnabar Islands.
Like everything else, his path was in the darkness. Before, this hadn't mattered because nothing was in his path. But with one step, he felt something under his foot. He pulled it back before he could crush whatever was there.
It squirmed and wriggled in the grass, going "Pwwwiiiii! Pwwwiiiii!" The white head was like a king's crown. The partial eggshell that was more or less part of its body was dappled with red and blue triangles. Its narrowed eyes were skinny and dark.
The white pupils of those dark eyes stared up at David as the small Togepi stopped crying.
"Oh… my… god."
The closest city he could find was one that, no matter how much you desperately checked, was missing from any map, despite its respectable appearance and population. Hovering over it (not literally, of course), a stone temple. Visually, it came off as a clock tower. Its vibe was sacred.
However, this was not what David Grimm was focusing on. In his panic, David accidentally came upon the city. He raced past the tightly-spaced homes, his goal being the Pokémon Center. It was the only edifice directly underneath the temple.
He entered. He had never seen so many Skitty in his life.
"Nurse! Nurse! I have an abandoned one over here!"
He liked the nurse immediately, because she didn't give him any looks of accusation. Alert and knowledgeable, she advanced toward the boy carrying a frazzled Togepi in his hands. She said things like "Oh dear" and "Oh my" and all that shit. She was what you would call a kind soul.
The nametag on her blouse read: Nurse Joy. This much was brought to the attention of David as she took the Togepi from him.
"It needs treatment," Nurse Joy said. "I will take care of it. Please wait here."
David felt like telling her that he wasn't obliged to stay, since it was not his. But he stayed anyway. He leaned against a seat (without actually sitting) and viewed the Skitty. They were all scuttling across the floor, and nobody seemed to care.
He was becoming impatient by the time Nurse Joy came back. The Togepi was sleeping in her hands.
"Well… it's okay for you to take Togepi now."
"Uhh?"
She held the Togepi out to him. "You may take it now."
"No way!"
"I'm sorry, but this center has no room for abandoned Pokémon. Please insure it for our sake."
"Bite me."
The nurse was taken aback. "I beg your pardon?"
"'I beg your pardon.'" David mocked. "What is that, a line you picked up from soaps? I can't take care of this thing!"
"It's your responsibility."
"Oh, yea? Says who?"
"You are morally obligated."
"That makes no FUCKING SENSE."
The nurse glanced about her. "Please keep your voice and language down."
"Look—I found the thing, I dropped the thing off. I even waited until I was sure the thing was OK! That does not mean I have to keep the thing! Find a spot in the backroom to store it; let someone else take it."
"You should know we cannot do that due to—"
"It's of no use to me on the battlefield!" shouted David.
"Young man. Pokémon are more than just weapons! Having Pokémon is like having children! You must nurture them."
"Nurture??" Beat. "I don't nurture."
"Are you saying you will not take custody of this poor baby?"
"I'd rather have a stroke!"
Nurse Joy turned red. Her cheeks puffed in anger. "Why, you little… little… iconoclast!"
David had a good laugh inside himself. Outside himself, he waved his hands and bugged out his eyes. "Ooooh." He backed off.
"Young man!"
"Young man!"
"Young man!"
The nurse's calls had echoed throughout the whole Center as David Grimm had walked out, doing to the Togepi exactly what that previous trainer had done. Abandoning it.
Something told him he should explore the sacred stone temple. And by explore, he meant escape. Albeit his parents were religious, David found it boring, repetitive, and pointless to spend hours worshipping an entity that did not exist. This meant that he had no moral issues about trespassing upon the temple.
Grass and weeds protruded through the cracks of the cobblestone walkway. The same characteristic was sighted by David as he treaded the shifting layers of stairs. After awhile, David began to sweat underneath his parka. It wasn't that there were a lot of stairs; just that it was so friggin' steep.
He eventually got to the door. It was thick. Very thick. He pushed against it with all his might for a few minutes, then realized it was a pull door. Blushing, he yanked on the rings connected to the wood, opening the entranceway. Moths flew out.
Apparently, not one individual was occupying. David inspected his surroundings. It was dark and musty. Before he knew it, his arms were breaking out. He glanced down and saw them become red with rashes. That's when he got nervous about what he was doing, and turned back.
A Girafarig had invaded the territory when he wasn't looking.
I kneeled. Pushed my hand behind me to retrieve the Pokéball that Bulbasaur was in. The Girafarig hadn't moved more than an inch.
Being as careful as possible, I sent Bulbasaur out. Only it wasn't Bulbasaur. It was Charmander!
"Char-man-der!" it phonated in its sissy voice.
Here's a question: How do trainers distinguish between Pokéballs without labeling them?
Too late to think about that now. I moved to make the command, but was caught off-guard by something in the background. It was a monster Pokémon I had never seen before.
The creature ripped out the poor Girafarig's throat. It consumed without thought, as if it had been awaiting this moment for years.
And then it turned its eyes upon me.
"Oh crap."