A comical take on the world on pokémon in the world of pokémon.
…Hng. Where… Where am I?
"This is a Pikachu!"
WOAH. What, professor? Is that your voice? Where are you?
"What's your name?"
Red. I know, I know, I didn't pick it.
"Are you a boy or a girl?"
Huh? Don't touch me! I don't think we have that option yet.
"Are you… a pretty girl?"
…Yes?
Anyways, welcome to the world of pokémon. Now stop dreaming about old men and WAKE UP!
……………………………………
GETUPGETUPGETUP!!!
" …Jynx you."
GETUPGETUPGET--crash.
"unf… hubba wha? Ah… ah muk! That's the fourth pidgey pokéball alarm clock I broke! Sandshit! Good thing they cost fake money."
"RED! Red is that you pokécursing a small storm up there still young man?"
He rolled out of bed in the unconscious way that leaves your sheet tying your ankles together for a legitimate faceplant upon the floor. Bruises to come. Today was already turning out to be the third worst day this month. If there were such a thing as months.
"Well, Ma, if you think of it, I'm really more like an 'old boy' than a 'young man' so if I'm 'still' anything, it's that."
"Red, cut the magi-krap, are you trying to argue semantics today of all days?"
"That depends, what day is it today? Does the day's name end in a 'y?' "
"You little ponytard! You get down here and have a nice glass of taurus milk and put these pokéflakes in your mouth. Then get your tush to the professor's lab, slowpoke!"
" …What?" Red rubbed bleary eyes, and tugged on his lively diglett boxer shorts. "What's today? What does Professor Oatmeal want now?"
"You're becoming a pokémon trainer today tweedle-dummy!"
Oh…
OH NO!
Goooolfuuuuck!!!
POKÉMON: THE REAL STORY, Chapter 1--Pokébeginnings
Red quickly deleted last night's search results off the computer for pokénudes.com as he withdrew a potion from the D-drive without thinking how the hell that works and proceeded to inhale pokéflakes, ignoring everything his mother said--as per the usual--while she cursed like the pokésailor his Dad was. Shame all he left her was a little brat and that big mouth. By the time she had finished saying something about banking options he was beating feet as fast a slow walk would allow because they had yet to invent running shoes. The professor's research lab was about 10 feet from his own house. His hustle made the constant room temperature feel slightly more balmly during the unchanging season. He had heard that in other worlds, a strange invention of man--time--made things change so long as you believed that time was passing. The even went so far as to shroud the land in darkness in things they called days to give the illusion of this "time" passing. While he thought of these concepts as interesting, Red had given up dreams of being a novelist when he was nine-years-old and learned there was only two books you could read in the whole world, and both were about pokémon and only had three pages. Hence he had been waiting with great anticipation for this day, to start his own story exploring the only thing in the world anyone ever talked about--he would take the first steps of unfolding his own pokémon journey by walking through this door!
--Which was locked tight.
Failure! Loser! Slowpoke! That was it. He turned from the admirable craftsmanship of the oak door only to spin around back again and nearly yank the thing off it's hinges twisting back and forth as the sting of tears began to pang at his old-boy young-man eyes. Surely Gary (or as he secretly always called him, FAGFART) would have received the pokémon that would take him out of this town and on to bigger and better things in the world--or anything for that matter. Red here is and has been here in Pallet town since he was born, never having left because tall grass is dangerous, only being able to look out over the sea to wonder where his Dad went and ponder the crying fat man stuck on a tiny island South of the town. This was it! The chance to get out! Before I would become the youngest old boy to go insane! He fell to his knees in a way that could not be noticed if you were staring down through a pixelated camera from above and thudded his head against the research building's wall going whywhywhy that to anyone watching would have sounded more like deuh-deuh-deuh over and over again.
This couldn't be how the story ended. He couldn't go back to being in his house with nothing but games about the world outside. He had seen all of the internet twice since its invention only a year ago. He couldn't go back to his mother pacing the same three steps in the kitchen in a constant pensive state, saying pokécurses and waiting for her unmentioned husband's return. Red watched the gentle .gif-like swaying of the town's undying flowers and read a few of the postsigns around town hoping for the sage advice that would see him through the time of woe, but they only told of start menus and B buttons that indicated the village idiot was vandalizing with his hoodlum imaginations again. Out of frustration of having failed destiny before he started, Red punched the sign board. Deuh. Doing so gave him a splinter, but no one would ever know his pain.
Pain. It gave him a thought. Maybe that's the answer. His whole short life he had lived in a magic world where bad things couldn't happen--quite literally there were too many invisible walls and not enough things to do--and that had made him weak, and simple, and stunted his growth. He began to wonder of stories his Dad had told him as a boy from his worldly travels, tales of men with overcompensating amounts of muscle who never left mountains, of gyms that had live electric currents pulsing through everything--even the trash cans, of ghosts that haunted entire towns. Maybe what he and this world really needed was more danger. Something that would show that you were alive! That pokémon weren't the only ones who could get themselves in and out of a bad scrape. Red thought of his longtime childhood hero, Bruce Hitmonlee, and how he always talked about walking a direct line along your own path--which wasn't as hard in a world that hadn't invented diagonal movement. Maybe it was time for Red to really take charge of his own destiny and take the world of pokémon into his own hands, literally. He decided.
He would become a pokémon.
The battling, the damage taken, the cramped living quarters of a pokéball, Red knew this life would not be an easy one, but he had seen the pokémon around his town and thought he might stand a chance. Tussle with a few pigeons and rats and maybe he'd learn a few new moves and face the higher leveled opponents to come.
Maybe he'd even evolve. His plan was set. Red would venture off into the world of pokémon--as a pokémon. With a newfound determination, he charged headlong (yet at the same speed as before) towards the tall grass leading out of town that had for so long blocked his path. He could feel the sweat on his brow and the beat of his heart. Red felt less like a color and more like a real creature, more alive than ever before. Eyes set as far as he could see across the screen he boldly made his first step into the tall grass and--
WAIT YOU LITTLE BRAT! IT'S DANGEROUS TO GO ALONE, TAKE THIS!
"Professor Oatmeal! I mean Oak!"
"What in Acreus's name do you think you're doing?"
"Professor we don't know about a pokémon God yet."
"Shut up and get you're foot out of the grass before OH NO!!"
"What is it Professor, did you realize your anachronistic error?"
"What? No! It's a small bird!"
"Oh…kay, how about tell it to shoo then? Or, ooh, I know! I developed this new fighting technique for battles where I'm the pokémon and I fight with my--"
"Make your stupidity quiet and listen, kid. We gotta get that bastard before he gets us, get it?"
"Huh? But it won't make a move until we've chosen a command. Professor I'm not sure I understand."
"Understanding is for dead philosophers, POKÉBALL GO!!"
Oak chucked the iconic magic of the white and red sphere then the bird, who was probably not a threat to anything but worms if they exist, was dissipated into a red transparent mass that closed it's soul into a small ball that could be bought for about $2 at convenience stores. It would never see the sun again.
"Pidgey was caught! Do you want to give this special guy a nickname?" Professor Oak look ten-years-old again holding the ball still warm in his hand.
"Is it a guy?" Red raised an eyebrow in inquiry.
"What?"
"Do we actually know it's gender? Did you check? Are you… going to?"
"Uh… check well, uh… pokémon are genderless!"
"What, wait, that doesn't even--"
"NICKNAME!"
"Ugh. No. It doesn't need a nickname. As soon as it's put in the computer, the pidgey will basically be going into the matrix forever. It doesn't even have a unique number to make it distinct from every other small bird rotting away in magic hyperspace. It's just another 'pidgey.' "
"Poopey it is!"
"Um. What're you going to do with that pidgey Professor?"
"Experiments!"
"Oh. Are they… nice experiments?"
"Science isn't about being nice, Red."
"How did you know I was going to be running into the tall grass at that exact moment in time?"
"I had been watching you. I saw you examine my door and then get into some kind of mood, and I knew it would lead to no good."
"So, how long had you been watching me before then?"
"I am always watching. I dare you to ride a bike in doors. I golducking dare you."
Oak force marched Red back to the lab, sputtering off about danger and grass and tallness of grass and kids these days and the grass these days. None were apparently as good as the years of old, though without the progression of time existing in this world it really couldn't have been too different. Red made inquiries on why his deciding to be a pokémon would be any more dangerous than giving a bored 11-year-old a monster that breathes and unlimited supply of fire, but this was met with feigned ignorance and the tired statement of 'you'll understand when you're older'. Red was cut out of his contention when he stepped foot into the lab where FAGFART, his best friend and lifelong rival (when there's only two kids in the whole town, you kind of end up filling both roles) was already waiting with greedy eyes upon a circle of pokéballs in the middle of the lab.
"Oh hey, if it isn't my childhood rival Red--or should I say Maroon! Ha! You know, like moron, but also red, but a little darker shade and… ha!"
"Hey FAGF--I mean psyfuck yo--I mean Gary! Wassup. By the way, since we're both still children, and therefore partaking in childhood, I don't think I'm really your 'childhood rival' as that would imply we've been rivals from the time we were kids, which we still are. That means we're just rivals."
" …Burgandork!"
"Wow, okay I'm done with this," Red moved past his 'rival' and up to the professor who was standing in the spot he rarely moved from, where his feet had worn and obvious depression in the floor.
"Look, I've just had an epiphany and then had it ripped out of my fighting hands before I even had a chance to throw a punch, I'll believe anything you tell me at this point that will eventually lead to me getting out of this town because I think the crazy is starting to set in, and no offense but I think it already has a pretty decent hold on your grandson so you might want to speed things up."
"Welcome to the world of pokémon!"
"Oh boy."
"I'm Professor Oak!"
"Yeah. You changed my diapers and have been 'keeping my mother company' since I was a littler kid. I got this part."
"Today is a special day."
"Yep."
"Speeeciaaaaal."
"Oh no… "
"Whatever! You kids don't appreciate anything you have. I mean look at me! I'm the authority on pokémon, a genius of poké-personality and technology. I'm the reason you know what raging beasts out there are going to be lifelong companions or will try to kill your family. I'm agéd badass who knows it all and I'm stuck in Pallet Town, living between you and your long-legged mother. My estranged daughter and jackass grandson are both the result of inbreeding since there are only four other people in the city. See that table over there? I sleep on that. My aide? He doesn't even get paid. He stays in the lab because it's warmer than sleeping outside with the wind blown in off the sea. I've done it all and am pretty much the most famous person in this part of the world--and I'm here talking to your ass now, about to give you a creature there's only one of that will evolve into something you could burn down your whole school with."
"We don't go to school. I can barely read."
"NOTHING! You appreciate nothing! Did I mention how awesome I am? You remember that kid! Now, play rock-paper-scissors but you have to go first so my charming jerk of a grandson knows what one to pick to get type advantage to fuel a vengeance that starts building NOW."
"How about we just pick at the same time?"
"Choose!"
"Fine."
End Chapter 1
POKÉMON: THE REAL STORY GETS REALER in CHAPTER 2
