Giant Robot Invasion!

The Pokemon bug first swarmed America when I was in middle school. It was a hit among the students-they played the video games, traded the cards, watched the show, and were pretty much happy to be alive. Back then, my family couldn’t afford cheap plastic crap like everyone else, so to capture some of the excitement for myself, I began keeping a list of Pokemon names in my pocket. Whenever I heard the name of a Pokemon I didn’t know about, I scribbled it on the list. It was my own personal Pokedex-my own way to catch ‘em all.

Then my efforts were ruined when my list ended up in the washing machine, smudging all of the entries. I was pretty depressed for a while. Fortunately, my classmates helped take my mind off of it by making fun of my weight.

Oh, but don’t think this was the end, dear reader. That list ignited a fire within, a desire to embrace Pokemon without actually having to pay money for it. A grand obsession soon overtook me as I seized each and every opportunity to fill my Pokemon larders. I glued pictures of Pokemon merchandise inside a paper binder. I clipped miniature Pokemon cards from boxes of Lunchables. I made someone else eat Burger King so I could snatch one of the toys that came in a plastic Pokeball. (Apparently these Pokeball halves could actually get caught over someone’s face and suffocate them. I tried using one to subdue a brutish attacker once, but it just made him mad. It was okay, though. Pavement and I go way back.)

Eventually, actual Pokemon merchandise entered my life. I received a copy of the Pokemon Red video game, and I also managed to pick up a Pokemon Trading Card Game starter deck as well. (I was disappointed when the instructions said that I required “a friend”.) Later I got Pokemon comic books and Pokemon stuffed animals. Clearly, the universe was aligning with my mission, realizing the nobility of my quest and slowly driving Pokemon merchandise toward me. I definitely deserved it, since I was very smart, and far kinder than thse stupid asshats that made up my peers. I had entered a new age of material goods, and now I was truly happy to be alive.

But it wasn’t enough. It never was enough. Soon I would become bored with my 312-piece Pokemon board game and push it aside, striving for more. I began to keep obsessive notes of where I saw each Pokemon item that I lusted for, as well as different whining strategies I could use to get my parents to buy it for me. Each item became its own hunt-it was the prey, and I was the prey-er. But the hunts soon took their toll-I began blacking out at unexpected times, returning back to conciousness with a Pikachu doll or a Jigglypuff poster in my hands. At first I blew it off. So what if I kept blacking out? I always got what I wanted, and that was good enough for me. Besides, you could still see the Jigglypuff underneath the blood.

Then my middle-school friend Adam told me that Pokemon Red was coming out with a sequel. My eyes widened to the size of dinner plates as Adam opened his magazine, revealing a glorious four-paged feature packed with information about the successors of the Pokemon franchise-Pokemon Gold and Pokemon Silver.

The fire inside my soul exploded. It had grown with each game or toy I had acquired, and up to this point, I was able to contain it. But now, confronted with the promise of new Pokemon games, and new Pokemon to boot, the inferno unleashed its full potential, overcoming my body, driving my actions. It was now in control, and it wanted MORE.

“Ow!” I cried, clenching my chest.

“What’s wrong?” Adam asked.

“My chest really hurts!” I said. “I…I think I’m having a heart attack!”

“Oh my God!”

“OF RAGE!“

“Huh?”

But I was beyond simple “huh”s. I leapt upon the feature article, tearing it out with the ferocity of a wild animal.

“What’s happening to him?” a girl shouted.

“He’s…he’s turning into a monster!” a boy cried out.

“He’s a werewolf!” Adam said. “Pokemon is his power source!“

Apparently it was true! The Poke-rays eminating from the feature article had triggered an astounding transformation! Now, whenever I was exposed to Poke-rays for too long, the world would have to deal with the astonishing might of…

“POKE-WOLF”

Today’s Adventure: “70 Degrees, With a 50% Chance of DIE!”

I don’t remember much after that. Somehow I was thankfully defeated, reverted back to normal after someone discovered that, without any silver bullets to use, the only thing that could hurt me now was rejection. I later awoke from my experience in a hospital, and after I learned all that transpired, I implored that all of the Pokemon merchandise be removed from my presence, lest I fall prey to the curse of Poke-Wolf once again!

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” my doctor said. “You’ve developed an addiction to Poke-rays. If you don’t continually absorb the Poke-rays coming off of your merchandise, you will die.”

“So I have to carry the curse of Poke-Wolf forever?” I asked.

“Well, the curse of Poke-Wolf isn’t entirely without benefits,” the doctor said. “As Poke-Wolf, you become stronger, faster, and gain a healthy tolerance toward other freaks of nature.”

“I already feel sorry for those assholes!” I claimed.

The doctor demonstrated an impressive chart. “Plus, we’ve discovered that, since Poke-Wolf was created through excessive Pokemon merchandise, you now have the ability to shoot money from your fingers. This could be a great help towards keeping our economy afloat and reducing the national debt. You would be doing your country a great service.”

“Wow…”

The doctor now removed his glasses, focusing on me with a stern, but warm eye. “Now, you have to promise me to use your powers for good, and not for personal gain. You’ve been given an incredible gift, my friend. You have to use it for the good of everyone, no matter how much they may hate you, or reject you. Because, as we all know, with great power comes great responsibility.”

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I will exercise responsibility with my powers.”

“Good!” the doctor said.

“To start, I will responsibly use them to buy a convertible.”

“Get out.”

So that’s my sordid tale. I hope it serves as an example to any of you youngsters out there who want to start collecting Pokemon. It is fun, granted, but if taken too far…it can ruin your life forever. Me? I couldn’t remain at home. I couldn’t endanger the lives of my family and friends, and risk the Poke-Wolf accidentally shooting money at them. It would be too much to bear. And so, I sentenced myself to wandering this world, running into a different adventure each and every month that can be resolved in 24 pages.

Don’t repeat my mistake. Don’t force into an adventurous lifestyle filled with money and superpowers like I did. Please, limit your daily exposure to Poke-rays. It will keep you healthy, and, more importantly, it will keep you bland. God knows if I could go back in time, I’d make myself do the same.

(Poke-Wolf later used his only chance of going back in time to make out with Cleopatra. It wasn’t as good as everyone says it was.)

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