Diary Of A Chronic Pokemon Cheater

Hi, my name is Flint, Flint Marco. And... and I'm a cheater at Pokemon.

I have been since the beginning. 1998. Cinnibar island. the Missingno fiasco. Getting an infinite amount of rare candys, proteins and the like, jacking up my Pokemon on that horrid gas, and obliterating any moron stupid enough to challenge me without their own jacked up monsters.

A year or so later, Gold version landed in my yellow Game Boy Color. I remember the morning I took my brother's new purple GBC, grabbed a link cable, and traded the Pokemon from my trusty red version. Won't that poor bastard be sorry!, I thought.While that fool trains his Chicoritas and his Zigzagoons, my Level 100 Dragonite will grind his useless monsters back to the dirt they came from!

There they were. Sitting in Box 3. Six of my strongest. Each with maxed out levels. Each one's stats as high as they could go. The PP on each one of their amazing attacks could not go any higher. Each one of them the best at their respective field: Fire, Ice, Grass, Poison, another Poison, and Normal. Each one of them, ready to die for me.

Each one of them. Ready to die.

I released them. Just as quickly as I had raised them up to be titans, I had let them go, back into a Poke-ecosystem that would surely shun these juggernauts. In training them to be completely and utterly unbeatable, they had become something I no longer knew. I had a much more enjoyable time training these brand new Pokemon the correct way. I no longer needed the help of Missingno, or his mystic item glitch powers. And, as a result, I no longer needed his Pokemon.

To this day, I still wonder what became of my Charizard. Last I heard, he had just been fired from his job at the Jack-in-the-Box, and he was behind on his child support. I do hope he has managed to get his life together.

I skipped Ruby/Sapphire. By that time, I think I was Poke'd out. I had been down too many roads, battled too many trainers, brought down too many Pokemon-oriented evil organizations. I just wanted to rest, I think. The life of a trainer was getting too hard on an old soldier like me. I felt like Chris Taylor from Platoon, writing his Grandmother from Vietnam.

Dear Grandma,
I've been in Kanto too long. I don't know if I'll make it out of here. I've seen a lot of things I wish I hadn't. It feels like a new Pokemon is hiding around every corner, waiting to fight me for no good reason. I don't know if Professor Oak was right about the struggle between Brock and Giovanni, for possession of my soul. I do remember Giovanni's words, though; I don't believe we fought Pokemon in Kanto. We fought ourselves. and the Pokemon were us.

I hope you're doing well, Grandma. Tell mom and dad... well, just tell them. Flint

It felt like ages since I'd seen anyone play a Pokemon game after that. Perhaps everyone around me was playing Pokemon, and I had merely tuned it out. I could not, however, ignore it anymore when my brother brought home a shiny new copy of Pokemon Diamond.

"Check it out, man! New Pokemon! You ready to get poke-pwned!?", He yelled at me, probably more excited than he should have been.

I gave him a hard stare with my sunken eyes, long tired from my years of countless battle. "I don't do that anymore.", I told him.

He shrugged, and, with a silly grin, popped his cartridge in his red DS. The power turned on, and I tuned out.

At least, I tried to.

"Ah, sweet! Check this out!" He yelled at me. I stared forward at the white walls, focusing on dirt particles. I imagined them living in a simple colony, hunting and gathering whatever it was that dirt particles ate, while my brother danced around me, explaining how sweet this new Pokemon game was. He finally shoved the DS into my chest. I looked down at it's double screens.

"See that? That's a Poketch! It tells time! Does other crap, too! Pretty awesome, right?" He asked.

I wasn't interested in that stupid gimmick. I grabbed the DS from him, and looked at his party. What's a Starley? A Bidoof? What kind of name is that for a Pokemon? And...and why did this monkey spit fire?

I... I must know! I must.... NO! I must fight it! I've been out of this game for years! I've been clean for too many years! I can... Hold... On... I... Must... KNOW! I MUST KNOW!

The next day, there I was, at Best Buy. I had a copy of Pokemon Pearl in my hands, and a smile on my face. Things were gonna be different this time around. I was going to raise these Pokemon as friends, not warriors. They would know love and peace, not pain and conflict. These Pokemon would live their lives the natural way.

There it was. Sitting there, next to a plastic DS protector, and a pack of spare styluses. The white box glistened in the bright lights. The red logo screamed directly into my brain.

ACtioN ^*RePLAy! Yo/UUu WEEilLlbeEE LUCkY WINnnNEERrRR!*!(!!^

Without giving it a second thought, I snatched the box. My breathing became heavy. My eyes shifted wildly. Lucky Winner! Lucky Winner!, I chanted in my head, and slowly, under my breath. You know those angel and devil figures that appear on shoulders in cartoons? In my madness, they had indeed appeared. Only this time, they said nothing to help or hinder me. They simply chanted along with me. Lucky Winner! Lucky Winner! I took my purchases to the counter, and a mildly attractive girl rang them up. As she handed me my change, she told me, "Have a nice day, sir."

I looked her in the eyes, an insane smile cracking my face in two. "Lucky Winner!", I blurted out.

I inserted my new game and "helper" into my DS. Ha, ha! You gutless Bastard! How... HOW will you ever hope to defeat me now, brother?! I said in my mania. I powered on the DS. There they were. Codes! Beautiful codes! But, waitaminute... no codes to catch any pokemon?! I must change this! I spent an hour or two scouring the internet, looking for the perfect codes. Catch any Pokemon. Infinite money. Infinite Master Balls. All Shiny Pokemon. Teach any move to pokemon. The world was mine!

I now had to decide who I wanted in my party. My pokemon had to strike fear into the hearts of all, most especially my brother. Pokemon in general, however, seem to be just south of terrifying. The rarer Pokemon tend to be at the bottom of the Pokedex. I'll just catch whichever number Pokemon is the highest, I told myself.

What I caught were not Pokemon. They were monsters! Horrid nightmare-inspired creatures, who, quite honestly, look too awesome to be classified as Pokemon. Jesus, this Giratina cat looks like it's gonna swallow my soul, not listen to my commands! I can't believe that's a Pokemon! Look at this Heatran guy! That... THING is a Pokemon?! Electrivire?! Electabuzz, what have they done to you?!

I caught my amazing new Pokemon, along with some old favorites, one specially designed to deliver maximum humiliation to my brother. He'll never forget this day. Never.

The time had finally come. I challenged him to a game, giving him a look of cautious confidence. It worked. The fool was all too happy to fight against me. To fight a battle he could not hope to win. I laid down the rules to him. Three-on-Three. Bring your strongest. Show no quarter; you will receive none. He obliged me. Stupid move, brother. Stupid move.

He called out his first Pokemon. I honestly don't remember what it was, a Starley or something. So I called out mine. My new friend, Giratina! He selected his move. I'll never know what it was. Giratina chose to use Crunch, crushing the piece of Poke-poultry in its teeth. I can only imagine how many bones that bird broke that day. Tastes like chicken!

Sorry. I couldn't resist.

I looked up at my brother, and offered a battle cry. "Pathetic!", I yelled.

He was smiling. "Man, what was that thing?!" He said, laughing.

His next Pokemon was Luxio. I withdrew my Giratina, and called out Bulbasaur. Simple Bublasaur. What could this Bulbasaur do that was so special? The world would find out his true power. For, you see, this Bulbasaur knew ONLY electric attacks! Being at a superior level, my Bulbasaur had a brief, although a bit taxing, encounter with Luxio, with Bulby coming out on top.

Two down, brother! I glanced up at him, grinning a Cheshire Cat-style grin. My brother laughed again. "Hey, man, what do you want for that thing? Let me have it!", he said to me. Was this fool enjoying his trouncing? Not for long! For I still had my secret weapon, my tool of complete and utter humiliation.

His next Pokemon was his newly-evolved starter Pokemon, Monferno. His smile grew wide. Did he think this would turn the tide of battle in his favor? I summoned my beast into battle.

Level 100 Meowth. Maxed out stats. He knew Hyper-Beam. Hyper-Beam, for God's sake! What was I thinking?

My brother laughed loud when my Pokemon entered the fray. You won't be laughing for long, Fool! I thought. He chose a fire-based move, I think it was flamethrower. It didn't matter. For, in my turn, my Meowth did something most Meowth's don't do; He took flight! This Meowth went against the teachings of every religious deity known throughout recorded history, and flew through the skies, free as a flying cat!

"What the Hell? He flies?! How did you do that?! Teach one of my Pokemon that!", he said.

The second round began. Meowth simply dive-bombed Monferno, and, thanks to his maxed-out stats, that was all she (being Nurse Joy in the Poke-trauma center) wrote. Monferno's days of eating solid foods and walking upright were over. My Pokemon had just crushed his Pokemon into submission, and threw their lifeless carcasses into landfills filled with their fallen enemies. I was victorious! All my training, all my cheating, had come to this! One swift, decisive victory against my brother! How you love that, bro?!

"That was awesome! What was that first Pokemon you used? He was freaky! That's a pokemon, dude?" He said, excitedly.

My eyes stared vacantly into his. My ecstasy turned to sorrow in an instant. I had won nothing. My level-100, juiced-up, buffed-out, flying Meowth only served to humiliate myself. My Pokemon were revealed as nothing but Jokemon. And the world laughed at me for it.

I spend the rest of my days perfecting the Thousand-Yard stare. My time in combat is over. My days as malevolent Pokemon overlord... over. I released Giratina. I had no use for him after that battle. I made good on a promise to my brother, and traded that electric Bulbasaur for a Bidoof. I'm sure Bulby'll have a better life over there than he would have had over here. As for Meowth... he stayed. He and I are too much alike to part ways. Both wield incredible powers, powers that most cannot fathom. Both are shunned by their respective cultures, his by the entire Meowth-Persian community, me by the Pokemon-training fraternity.

I stare at the walls a lot these days. The dirt particles grow bigger each day. Are they developing into larger beings? Or are they building larger living spaces for smaller dirt particles? It must be a simple life to be a dirt particle.