Three knocks at the door. Guess I had overslept. "Gus! Wake the fuck up!"
God damn it. It was Howie.
"It's Howie!”
Called it.
“Gus! Wake up, man! Come on! It’s already 9!”
I glanced at the glaring red digits of my clock. 8:54. "First of all, Howie, I've told you time and time again that my name is AUGUST."
"Sure thing, Gus! Let’s see. Bill, bill, bill, bill…”
“What bills? Damn it, Howie, are you reading my mail?!” I was out of my bed now, and had I been wearing pants, I would have ripped the door open and taken my letters back.
“Hey, you got one too! A letter from some Professor Rowan guy. I’ll save you the trouble of opening it.”
“Howie, opening other peoples’ mail is a felony-“
“He wants us to do an internship. It’s because we just turned 18… He wants us to meet up in Sandgem. Holy shit, dude, this is awesome! Bet you 100 million that I'll beat you there!"
I mumbled to myself, "God. I wonder how many lines of coke he did before coming over." I slipped on jeans and a shirt that seemed clean,
My name is August, and I’m 18 years old. I live in a very small town in Southwest Sinnoh called Twinleaf Town. There are only about 1500 people who live in Twinleaf, so everyone pretty much knows everyone. At first, it seems really nice… But then you have people like Howie.
Let me be clear: I don’t hate Howie. He’s the closest thing I have to a best friend. His heart is in the right place, even if he doesn’t really show it sometimes. The only problem I have with Howie is that he never stops. Ever.
My family is small, and my dad is always away trading internationally for Rocket Corporation, so normally it’s just me and my mom. Which is fine, I love my mother— she just doesn’t realize that it’s not okay to let the town cokehead barge into your house at nine in the morning, read your mail and demand you wake up and walk two miles to Sandgem Town.
I read the rest of the letter, from Professor Markus Rowan. It was twelve-point, Times New Roman font. It was short, but concise, with very professional wording. It seemed legit enough to me. I told my mom I’d be back soon and began the hike. The sun was shining, but it wasn’t terribly hot, so instead of my bike, I decided to walk the way.
About half of the way along, I caught sight of bright blonde hair and a tacky orange and white striped shirt. Howie hadn’t gotten to Sandgem yet! I kept walking, raised my hand and tried to get his attention, but as I got closer I noticed a few small, black Starly flying around him.
“Agh! Stop it! Fuck! Not the face! Jesus!” His eyes met mine briefly, and he yelled “The briefcase! Hit them with the briefcase, August!”
Briefcase? My eyes scanned the grass in front of me, and I realized it was tall enough for Pokémon to hide out in. Poor Howie realized it too late, just like I did. My eyes met a brown leather briefcase, lying in the grass. I went with my gut, and picked it up, but before I could swing it, it split open. Papers flew everywhere, temporarily scattering the Starly, but I saw three red and white spheres the size of stress balls spill out. Pokéballs! Howie noticed them too, and reached for the nearest one. I picked another up, crossed my fingers, and threw it.
“Let’s go!” Howie and I yelled simultaneously. From his emerged a small, orange thing with a puff of fur on its head and an open flame emanating from its ass. I recognized it as a Chimchar. From mine came a green reptilian creature with a shell on its back and a twig on its head—A Turtwig.
After the initial shock of being swept into a battle with two humans they didn’t know, they slammed into and scratched and bit at the Starly, driving the little black-and-white birds away. It was impressive, really-- I didn't have to give any directions.
Howie had minor cuts and nips on his face, but other than that he was unharmed. He gave the little monkey a high five and we brought them back into their Pokéballs after I checked it and the Turtwig for injuries.
“That was awesome! You never told me you had a Chimchar! Did you see those things fly off?” Howie exclaimed enthusiastically, searching the trees.
“Howie, you don’t understand… These belonged to someone else. You know I don’t own any Pokémon-- They came out of the briefcase.”
His smile dropped. “…Oh.”
I shuffled through the papers on the ground. Research notes on Evolution, showing meaningless equations and words I didn’t understand—But I found what seemed to be a front page to one of the documents. “Evolution in Action: An Essay by Professor Markus Rowan," I read aloud.
“…Shit, dude. What are we gonna tell him?”
“Well, we’ll cross that bridge when we get there. Let’s get going.” I stuffed the papers and Pokéballs back into the briefcase hastily, and Howie and I were back on our way to Sandgem Town.
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