This ain't no place for the weary kind.

July 30th

Dear PokeDiary,

It’s 10:30 p.m. – I’m only just getting in. It’s been a long day. But then, they only ever seem to be long days anymore. Guess I’m just feeling my years.

It wouldn’t have taken so long, but Rt. 47 was packed with amateurs tonight, and once they lock eyes with you, it’s like an exclamation mark goes off over their heads – and then you can forget about getting where you’re going, because it’s on and there’s nothing you can do about it.

“Biker Billy wants to battle.”

Sigh. “Are you kidding me, man? No, it’s late and I’m tired. I got all the way to Rt. 43 just to discover I needed HM Whatever-Damn-Number-They’re-Up-to-Now Rock Climb, so I had to go all the way back to town to pick up a Machoke from my bank – who’s super happy that I plucked him out of the wild just so I could store him in a computer and only take him out for the rare occasion I need to scale a sheer cliff wall, by the way. I’m going to bed.”

“Hey! This chump refuses to battle! What a phony!”

Real nice. Don’t bother getting off your motorcycle while you talk to me. It’s not like it’s difficult to hear you over the revving of your engine and the hacking of my asthmatic cough. I really can’t be bothered by this type of behavior – plus most of my line-up is either poisoned or paralyzed from a bout with a particularly nasty Victreebel, and there’s something about asking a paralyzed Pikachu puking its innards up on the asphalt to battle for me that seems downright distasteful. But the other trainers are looking, and I can’t afford to lose the money or the face.

I reluctantly accept his challenge, and he pulls out his single heavy-hitter.

A Pidgeotto? You put me through all that just so I could battle a rat with wings? Goddamn it! Thanks for wasting my time, Biker Billy. Rentboy called, they've got some work for you.

But that’s what the job is. Yarns? Yea, I could spin a few.

Spent some time on the road with a tall, lanky fellow out of Pewter. Decent enough bloke, had a fetish for those Pokemon Center nurses. Never quite saw the appeal myself, but then again they all look alike to me (spare me the nasty letters, NAACP). One night, he hooks up with one of them – he’s been drinking a little, and I guess she makes a crack about his ‘Squirtle’ not evolving. He doesn’t like that. He’s serving 8-12 at a facility by Lavender Town now. I hear the inmates like making him play nurse. I try not to think about it.



Traveled around with this spunky, young firebrand from Cerulean for awhile, too. Super thin, used to work at the gym there – wore her shorts extra high, if you know what I mean. It was my first time, and I was real sweet on her. I thought she felt the same. What I didn’t know was her figure was less a product of working out and more the withered results of her incessant taste for ‘Rare Candy.’ Woke up one morning to find my bed empty and my wallet missing. Damn crack-whore bitch.

I got into this biz on the dream – “Catch ‘em all!” the commercials would say. **** yea, why not?! It’s all just a lie though. A mirage some marketing big shot in Celadon dreamed up to sell more balls to kids.

Being on the road most of the year wears you down. And I use the term 'road' liberally, as paved trails are all too rare a sight. I remember they tried to get a bridge built to Cinnabar Island a few years back. But then voters found out Cinnabar has only fifty people on it and everyone got more explosive than an Electrode in Kabul over “wasting taxpayer money” on a “bridge to nowhere.” Well sooooorry! But hey, pay no attention to the fact that I’m trying to balance myself precariously on the back of a Tentacruel without getting stung all because you just finally decided the deficit was a big deal.

The circuit is atrocious. The freelance trainers receive no respect. If you don’t belong to a gym, you’re just another bum off the street to push around. I remember when I started out, I stopped by the Viridian City gym looking for a match only to find the gym leader missing and my appointment meaningless. “Well when will he be back?” I asked the ‘blonde’ (blatant dye-job) at the front desk. She shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe two months?” Useless.

God forbid you ever get sick. I ran into a fella I knew from Vermilion a while back – good guy, has two kids from a previous marriage. He’s walking through Mt. Moon (because where we’re going, we don’t need roads – right?!) and trips over a Geodude because it’s pitch-black and the county refuses to install lights in there. Foot shatters in four places. He can’t walk, which means he can’t travel, which means he can’t battle, which means he can’t cover his out-of-pocket hospital expenses. What a country.

The kids these days…I feel myself falling behind. They show up to battle with the latest Pokemon and elements and moves, half of which I ain’t never seen before. I used to know all the Pokemon by heart – hell, I could even rap them all if you smiled nicely and wore a low-cut top. They were simpler times.


???????

I don’t want to keep doing this. But I don’t know what else I’d do. Pokemon training doesn’t exactly provide you with marketable skills in the workforce.

“I see a large employment gap here on your resume.”
“Well I was self-employed for several years.”
“I see…” They always hear that as “unemployed.”
“Do you know Search Engine Optimization? Quicken?”
“No…no, but I can match water against rock/ground types.”
“We’ll contact you if anything opens up.”

They never do…

-Red
________________________________________

August 4th

Dear PokeDiary,

I’m back home now. The scenery’s changed since my last visit. I don’t even recognize the place no more. Or maybe it’s all the same, and I’m the one I can’t recognize. I hear Pallet High’s having a reunion while I’m in town. Open bar’s a hard thing to pass up, and Hell, I’ll do anything to get out of the house. To get away from…her.

Mom.

She was only too happy to see me go back then. I guess when you’re the town bike and everyone has you hotkeyed, having a little kid sleeping in the only bed in the house is bad for business.


Sorry, Mom, did I catch you at work?

I take the late-night arrival of “Uncle” Professor Oak as I my cue to leave. I get to the school, but a large man at the door refuses to let me in. “Graduates only,” he grumbles, the rank odor of cheap tobacco wafting from his lips like some carcinogenic perfume. I mutter some obscenities under my breath at him. He hears me. “What did you say to me, you little ****?” Ordinarily I’d just keep walking, but my ego already bruised, I feel compelled to defend myself. I challenge him to a battle and pull out my Ponyta just in time for the first punch to land on my face.

On my way out, my shoulder collides with that of another man. We spin to offer perfunctory words of apology, but he recognizes me:

“Red? Is that you?”

Blue. Damn. Of all the people, why’d it have to be Blue…

“You okay? You look a little puffy.”
“Oh, you know, just the open bar!” I’m such a liar.

We exchange pleasantries and he starts to reminisce. “Losing to you all those years ago was the best thing to ever happen to me. Gave me a chance to take a breath, digest our rivalry, and question whether I wanted to keep pursuing that little hobby.” I try not to bristle at the word. “I went back to school, did some time in the Peace Corps, met a girl. We live in Celadon now. I’m in marketing.” Mother******, of course he is. He pauses awkwardly. “Are…you…still training?”

I fluster. “Oh, me? No, heh, I do, uhhh, Search Engine Optimization now.” I grasp madly for words, trying to fill the dead air. “And some Quicken!” He produces a smile and we parts ways. I wish I could have put up a better fight. But he’s playing a different game now – and I don’t know the rules.

It’s getting late. Maybe Oak is done exploring the tall grass with my mother. Until next time, PokeDiary, I’ll keep on trying to catch ‘em all. But I wonder….who will catch me?

-Red


Not very subtle, Mom.

A version of this piece was originally posted to my WordPress blog.