A Pokemon Parable

An orange scaled arm burst from the shell, with three clawed fingers, as the pokemon inside struggled to escape its former prison. The arm flailed about, trying to widen the hole and make way for the slightly larger round head that pushed at the side of the opening. Failing to do so, it withdrew the arm, allowing an orange snout to shove against the hole for a breath of air.

<”I guess it isn’t an Ralts, hah” Eric laughed, his guess being wildly incorrect. “Nor a Sentret, guess I was wrong on it being something soft and fuzzy” Diane admitted, having hoped for a soft cuddly partner for her son. Stanley thought it was weird his parents would have a specific preference, he just wanted someone who could understand him.>

With one solid shove, the top of the egg cracked up and opened like the lid on a tin can, with the small pokemon’s reptilian head poking out and breathing hard. Slowly maneuvering to clamber out of the former egg, the orange pokemon wiggled left to right, covered in goop and letting out a small cry “Finally! Freedom!” The quarter-meter tall pokemon was small for its species, but having just emerged from an egg this was bound to change with time. Its cream-colored underbelly continuously expanded and contracted as it caught its first breaths, before opening a pair of sky-blue eyes to take in the world.

While the two adults were careful to get the cotton towels too close to the open flame at the tip of his tail, the new hatchling seemed to perk up at their words. “What, fire type? The hell- I have a tail?!” The charmander attempted to grab its tail, but failed as they could barely stand, its balance not being helped by the four human hands trying to clean it off. “What’s going on, where am I?” it continued to wail, albeit not in a way any human could comprehend.

“Why are you ignoring me?!” the small pokemon cried. It could only look up at the titans towering above, even the small child was nearly double his height.

The small lizard was visibly confused. “His new- I am nobody’s Pokemon! Now tell me where I am, and who you all are before anything else-” the charmander demanded, cutting himself off as he noticed the world start to slow down and lose color. There was a low sound, a ringing tone that steadily increased in volume and pitch as he waited there and the world steadily faded into a mixture of monochromatic shapes and colors. The humans slowed, their actions almost reaching a standstill frozen in time.

Terrified, and likely not wanting to experience what loomed beyond any further non-compliance, the small orange lizard signed and stood, walking to the edge of the counter before climbing down. With a lack of grace, he slid down and fell on his tail before standing and moving beside his new ‘trainer’, careful to be aware of his pyromatic appendage. “Fine, let’s go see the town,” he responded, as the colors began to revert to normal, the entire world blissfully unaware of the ordeal.

<”Don’t go out into the tall grass Stanley! You’re not a trainer yet, so just do a normal walk around town.” Eric suggested, smiling to see that somehow things were already looking up. “Oh, if you go by the grocer can you buy some carrots for tonight?” Diane asked, pulling a few Pokedollars from her purse and offering them to Stanley. That shouldn’t be too hard, thought Stanley, as he accepted the both the quest and offered currency.>

“Okay, so your name is Stanley. I’m guessing Eric’s your dad, and Diane is your mom. This is already weird enough,” the orange pokemon grumbled, making sure to follow behind the thirteen year old close enough to avoid any further complications. Once the duo were outside, Charmander took note of what appeared to be a fenced front yard, separated by a stone walkway leading from the front door of the house to the gate. The house itself looked to be moderately sized, though relative to himself it could’ve passed for a mansion. The air was clear, with only a handful of cheerful white clouds dotting the sky in a scene straight out of a kid’s book.

“Ah, you must be the egg he’s been carrying around, eh?” the bird inquired, its gaze now on the lizard at the boy’s heels.

“Yea, any idea where we are? I keep trying to ask them but they can’t hear me,” the Charmander pleaded, thankful to finally have a real conversation.

“Well of course they can’t, humans can’t understand us Pokemon.” The bird got a chuckle, clearly entertained to have heard that question. “I suggest you hurry along before you lose Stanley; and welcome to Vaniville!” it said, taking to the sky to fly elsewhere. Charmander, seeing that his companion was now almost a house ahead, broke into a jog to catch up.

“I mean, maybe? I just wanted to ask where we are. And I don’t recognize that pokemon or this town. What region are we in?” the Charmander asked. As they walked, other townsfolk would wave at the pair, some verbally expressing congratulatory messages of their new bond. The weather was calm, with barely a breeze to accompany a warm sunny day. The fresh vibrant flowers and flora gave the impression of a full-swing springtime.

Slightly irate at the indignation, his buddy had a short outburst aimed at the child. “I am a man, a fully grown man, and my name is ____” Charmander tried to say, but for some reason the last part came out as silence. “_____. _____! Why can’t I say my name? ____!?” Panic began to set in again, as he felt around his throat, trying to discern the impediment in his speech.

“No,” the young pokemon pleaded, as his entire future flashed before his eyes, always known as ‘Bucket’. “Please no, at least let me pick? Or give me a real name?!”

“Take all the time you need. I’ll find a way to teach you my name, somehow.” the charmander said with exasperation, worried his trainer may jump on an early, terrible, idea for a name. If any of the onlookers felt the situation was odd, with a silent trainer leading a very vocal and emotive pokemon, none of them deigned to express it.

The Charmander, having just experienced rapidly-onset hunger, was starting to hunch forward holding his stomach. “That- that did not feel right. How did I just suddenly get this hungry?” he asked with a quiver of pain in his voice. Several advertisements for pokemon food were stuck to the windows, many showing overly-happy pokemon eating bowls of brown kibble. “Oh, oh no, I’m going to be stuck with dog food aren’t I?”

With a groan, the charmander was able to stand mostly upright and focus on the task at hand. “Well, at least the human food looks normal, and I can read the text. Maybe I can write my questions and get some answers when we get home” he postulated, planning to try and find some way to communicate with his new family.

With a look of disbelief, his partner counted the money, and read the labels. “She gave you five Pokedollars, of some weird currency. You can get a bag of baby carrots and still have plenty left,” he explained, trying to somehow cover for a child clearly behind in their academic development.

With a recognition of the previous attempt’s futility, along with yet another reminder that he was realistically as effective at vocally communicating as his trainer, the charmander pointed at the bag of baby carrots, then held up 1 finger. He would’ve preferred the single-finger gesture to represent his feelings, but at the moment this sorry child was his key to survival, and the gesture might not convey the same emotions with only three fingers to start with.

Gratefully, the charmander read over the prices, and pointed to the red apples, this time motioning with two fingers. There were no other shoppers nearby to witness this odd behavior, and the boy nodded while grabbing two of the red apples from the stand, before leading their troupe to the checkout kiosk. “Self-checkout? I guess the pokemon world never really had to deal with rampant theft, huh” he lamented, unsure whether he should be appreciative of the good fortune he had been blessed with.

“Thank you!” the charmander chirped, quickly taking a large bite out of the apple. Sweet juice dribbled down his chin as he chewed slowly, a face of bliss savoring the flavor. The duo began their journey home, one happy to have completed his quest, the other excited to satisfy the unusual pangs of hunger.

“Wait, it was still mid-day when we left the store, it can’t have taken us all afternoon to walk home?!” the charmander observed in a panic. The outside world was clearly evening with the sun on the horizon. “It was barely past lunch when we left, and no way does it take six hours to walk a few blocks- agh!” he grunted, taking a knee and holding his head, symptoms of a migraine. “Why, but we didn’t do any of these-” he squeaked out, as the world spun around him.

Now fully dark, the charmander saw his chance and slowly crept off the bed, holding his head and making his way over to the small child’s desk where he grabbed a pencil and paper. After a moment, allowing the headache to settle so he could focus, he held the pencil in two hands and gently wrote out his questions. “Can you read this? Where am I? Who is that weird voice in my head?” Seemingly satisfied with his rough handwriting, he snuck out of Stanley’s room and into the kitchen. Placing the cry for help in front of the coffee machine, the charmander held his resolve, and returned to bed.

In a panic, Charmander ran to the kitchen, in time to watch his message change to instead be a reminder to buy pokechow, in someone else’s handwriting. “How…” he said, pain in his eyes as he became aware of how trapped he was. “I’m trapped here,” he realized, sliding down to the floor with his back against the cabinet. “Why is this happening to me? And how do I have memories of the time we just, skipped over?”

Just bear with it, otherwise you’d be stuck in this situation for a full two years.

“Who said that?!”