The Pocket Monster Diaries, Part 7

Dear PokeDiary,

I was fully committed to my journey now. I had spent too much time loitering around this one Rapidash town, and I took the recent victory over my malodorous rival as a sign that I was destined to move on to bigger and better things. After saying my goodbyes, I headed North, towards Viridian Forest. And my destiny. And possibly my death at the hands of a poisonous insect.

"...but his low kick didn't do ANYTHING, and then his Bulbasaur rammed into him like POW, but then Chuckles got up and was like, WHAM WHAM WHAM and practically scratched his friggin' FACE off, it was totally AWESOME, haha...hello? Are you still awake in there? Well anyway...I guess I gotta go to Pewter City now. Later."

As I trudged through the dimness of the silent forest, my mind returned to the problem of JitterBug. Now that she had evolved, some of her vigor and energy appeared to have gone. I had heard that Pokemon sometimes undergo personality changes when they evolve, but unless I found some way to get JitterBug fighting, she would continue to be stuck in this form. I resolved to pit her against some of her former buggy comrades if I ran across any in the forest. Strangely enough, failure to run into some sort of creepy-crawly was not something I really worried about.

I should have been looking out for other human beings, however, because as I was scanning the trees for bugs, I was jumped from behind by some dork with a butterfly net.

"Okay Winston, just stay calm. Breathe deep. I think...I think this guy is on drugs."

“Alright, JitterBug! This is it! Go!” I summoned the morose-looking Pokemon onto the field, where she sat staring impassively forward.

"Please...please go. Somewhere."

“YEAH WEEDLE YOU CAN DO IT!! I BELIEVE IN YOU!” the Bug Catcher shouted with ear-splitting enthusiasm. He sent out his Weedle, which charged forward and began jabbing at JitterBug’s carapace fruitlessly with it’s head-spike. JitterBug did not appear to be impressed. While it’s true that her mobility was somewhat…lacking, in this form, her defense seemed to have gone through the roof. That wasn’t going to help her actually win though. Which was too bad, really. I was hoping that she’d be able to take out this loser.

I got an idea. A dumb one, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t work. I sent out my Mankey.

“Chuckles, please pick up JitterBug.” He looked at me quizzically, but did as he was told. Chuckles easily hefted the Metapod over his head with no apparent effort. The Weedle, now that his target was out of reach, seemed unsure of himself and froze. I doubt his insect brain could handle contemplating more than one organism at a time. His trainer, who seemed to be only slightly more intelligent, displayed a similar reaction. For a moment the three Pokemon stood there, frozen in a tableau like the subject of some bizarre PokePainter’s still life: the Weedle, the Mankey, and the Metapod being held by the Mankey, all remaining quite still. The forest was deathly quiet. I decided that Chuckles had exercised enough restraint for one day.

“Chuckles,” I said, my voice intruding upon the sudden silence, “permission to smash.”

What followed could not have been very pleasant for the Weedle, and if JitterBug had any objections they were not made readily apparent. Chuckles, on the other hand, seemed to be having the time of his life, and was making full use of JitterBug’s hardened carapace to bludgeon the hapless Weedle into the forest floor, accompanied by a chorus of triumphant hoots. It did my heart good to see him enjoying himself. By the time the dumbfounded trainer came to his senses, it was all over.

“Weedle! NOOOOO!!” The battered bug Pokemon was in pretty poor condition, but still alive. As the bug catcher tended to it, I noticed that JitterBug had some cracks in her shell that appeared to be the result of her recent stint as a blunt-force weapon. The cracks began to widen, and my heart leapt into my throat as I wondered if my (admittedly rather idiotic) plan had backfired and injured JitterBug instead of getting her some free experience. However, as the shell continued to break apart, I noticed that there was something moving inside. The empty husk that had been JitterBug the Metapod split open completely, and I saw one brightly colored wing unfurl, and then another. A newly formed Butterfree sprang out and began to flutter and gambol through the air over its discarded chrysalis.


I couldn’t believe that it had worked.

“Hey!” I tore my eyes away from my newly evolved Pokemon and saw that the defeated bug catcher was pointing an accusing finger. “You’re a cheater! The official league rules are that you can only have one Pokemon out at a time, unless it’s a double battle!”

Crap. I had been caught red handed. There was really no defense against this charge, but that didn’t stop me from trying. “Well, I mean…come on, Metapod is barely even a Pokemon to begin with! Am I right? Eh?”

He was unswayed. “Just you wait! I’m going to report you, and they’ll expel you from the league for this!”

“Oh, well, uh, I’d really love to stay and help you do that, but I have to go…turn off the…stove…in my other pants.” As I was mumbling in an increasingly incoherent manner, I looked around frantically for help, any help. I had just gotten started on my journey, and there was no way I was going to let it end in such an ignominious fashion. But how…

And then Winston got an idea. An awful idea. A wonderful, awful idea!


Wow! Really? Oh man. That's crazy. That's nuts. Yeah no I just got here. I'll tell you if I see anybody suspicious hanging around. Alright well I'm afraid I gotta take my Butterfree and leave now BYE

I figured this would be a good time to cut my losses and get the hell out of this godforsaken forest before the dweeb regained too many of his mental faculties. After a few more twists and turns, I finally made it to the exit.

At last! I can finally be free of these short-wearing creeps.

It felt good to breathe the free air again. I flat out ran the next dozen yards or so to get to Pewter City, so eager was I to return to the relative safety of civilization, where I didn’t have to worry about an enraged insect plummeting onto on my head every five steps. Still, this was the place where I would need to challenge that guy. That strong guy. Boulder-Brad, or something. Limestone-Larry. Geode-Geoff. Whatever, it wasn’t important. My team may have consisted of only three members, but each of them were tested in battle so far, and I had confidence that they would make short work of this gym. I mean, if G’yorp challenged these guys and won, a person with the ability to tie their own shoelaces should have no problem.

But first, perhaps, I would rest and soak up the rich culture of this new city.

I have literally never seen a worse motto than this one. Not only does it fail to make any sense whatsoever, but as a bonus it's also standing right next to a flower bed, rendering it completely untrue! I'm honestly kind of impressed.


About toastybiggins

This guy? He's alright.

Posted on August 5, 2011, in The Pocket Monster Diaries and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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