Story Notes:
I use a series of symbols, so this may be a little complicated.Something that looks like dialogue but looks like (this) is a thought inside of Dillon's mind.[These] indicate song lyrics playing in Dillon's head.If {these things} surround something, then it is a dream that Dillon is having.If squiggly lines ~that look like this~ surround something, then that something is written.__________________________________________________________If the above line separates two things, then Dillon has written the passages at different times.__________________________________________________________ For example, if Dillon wrote these story notes, then he would have written the explanation of symbols first, then he would have come back in a little while because he remembered that he forgot to add an explanation for the lines. Then he would have come back and written this part because he forgot to include an example of how the lines work to make it easier for you, the reader, to understand. You got all that?__________________________________________________________NEW SYMBOL FOUND IN CHAPTER 5! If stars *like these* surround a word, then it is only onomatopoeia for a sound that is being made. __________________________________________________________NEW SYMBOL THAT WILL APPEAR IN CHAPTER 6! When two lines || That resemble something like this || are around something, it is a written side note.
"You sly, sneaky weasel!"
I'm thinking that I ought to nickname that mega mud-fish. "Swampert" sounds too generic, too impersonal in my view. I don't know what I'd call him, though. I guess I'll think about it.
Swampert brought up an interesting question this morning. He asked to flip through my little journal, and I agreed seeing as he was the only one of the three who I had nothing to hide from and because he still needed to work on his reading. Anyway, he asked, "Why does your writing look like you expect somebody to read this?"
"Oh, so you can read my sloppy handwriting? Not bad. Anyway, I write that way because someone would be reading it if I had any say. Hey, where'd you put my belt with all of my poke-balls on it?"
"It's right there," Swampert said while pointing at my belt on the ground. I picked it up, but didn't put it on because-
"Hey, it looks like one of the balls is missing. Have you seen it?" I asked Shanon, who was busy with packing up the tent.
She replied, "I don't know!"
"Hey, Dillon! Shanon!" Michael called. He had just returned from refilling our canteens by the river. He walked over to where we were and asked, "Either of you missing something?" He was holding up my missing poke-ball.
"Oh, that's mine! Thanks." When I reached for it, though, he wouldn't give it to me. "What?"
"Why was it at the river?" (Oh, crap.)
"You woke me up, so I had nothing to do. I went for a little swim. Didn't you notice my wet clothes?" Michael seemed to buy it. (He's not too perceptive, it seems. He didn't even ask about why I was sleeping outside.) Now Michael gave it to me and I belted it.
"OK, let's get moving."
__________________________________________________________
URGENT MESSAGE TO ALL TRAVELERS WHO WISH TO GET WHERE THEY'RE GOING ON FOOT: Do NOT bring your guitar. If you do, bring an acoustic guitar because they aren't quite as heavy. If you have made the mistake of bringing an electric guitar, then there is still hope for you as long as you meet the following condition: you did not bring your amp! If you have made all of these errors then I'm afraid that you're doomed to an ordeal of carrying pointlessly heavy objects across long distances, just as I now am.
After a number of hours of walking, Swampert held me up with his arm and looked me in the eyes to nonverbally say, "Talk. Now." The two of us were already lagging a little bit behind the humans, who were in conversation with each other about Disturbed's "Asylum" album, so we backtracked even more to get out of earshot of them. "Now what's bothering you?"
(Well, it's not like it's a big secret, not from him anyway.) "I'm thinking that I made a mistake by bringing Shanon and Michael. They aren't coping well, and I'm blaming myself."
"What makes you think that?"
"Well, while you were sleeping, Michael and I had a little argument. He implied that he wanted to leave, but before he could come out and say anything direct, Shanon broke it up."
"What did she say?"
"She told us to be quiet so we could sleep."
"So she didn't say anything about being here?"
"No... I guess she didn't. Huh, maybe no news is good news in this case."
Michael called from ahead, "Hey, hurry up!" (It looks like "special talk time" is over.) It wasn't until then that I noticed that his typical monotone voice was now replaced with an energetic and inflective sound. Shanon and Michael stopped to allow me and Swampert to catch up. "Hey Dillon, I wanna talk to you." (Two down, five to go. Of course, those two were the most obvious ones.) "About last night, I'm sorry. And I don't wanna go back, even though it sounded like it. I don't know why I was acting like that. Are we good?" (Oh! Two came true, one was proven false, one may still happen but probably won't, and three are still up in the air.)
"'We' as people are neither good nor bad as is the case with every living thing, but if you mean that we have no more reason to conflict, then yes, I forgive you." The embarrassing truth is that I honestly couldn't tell if he was asking if we were good people or if I forgave him. So, I just decided to cover all of the bases.
My stomach growled like an angry ursaring. "Hey, do you three think that it's time to eat?"
The answer was "yes." We deviated three feet or so from the path so as not to obstruct other travelers, which weren't too common around here, but we'd still pass by a solo or small group of trainers once in a while. Swampert laid out the blanket while I dug out the food. The other humans didn't really do anything except sit down and wait to be served. "Thanks a lot for your help, guys." I said sarcastically, but in a joking manner. We had nothing too special to eat, just some sandwiches that we pre-made before we started walking. Me, I had the old fluffanutter. Swampert wanted to give it a try, but asked what it was made of first. When he didn't recognize what peanut butter, bread, and marshmallow fluff were though, he went right back to eating his magikarp sandwich, which I suppose is the equivalent of tuna.
"How on earth can you eat this? Whatever this is covering my magikarp, it's disgusting!" Swampert pulled a piece of bread off of his sandwich, tossed it aside, and ate the magikarp off of the other slice of bread without eating the bread. (Yeah, THAT'S what's disgusting about the present situation!) It was hard to resist saying that aloud.
"Hey, you'd better finish that quickly because you're long overdue to start training." I knew that the announcement would come as a surprise and catch him off guard, which was exactly the effect I was going for. "Whoops, too late!" He was finished eating anyway, so I pulled him aside and pulled him for a couple of feet before he began to follow me on his own. "You guys might want to take a leaf out of my book!" I called back as we walked away.
A lone tree was conveniently located a hundred or so feet away, forming a satisfactory training dummy. "So, how should we start?" inquires Swampert.
"We start by greeting the newest addition to the team." Swampert was about to ask what in heck I was talking about before I plucked what anybody who wasn't me would mistake as a completely random poke-ball from my belt, and tossed it into the air, at which time its occupant took center stage. Swampert had his eyes wide open in surprise. "Heh-heh, you sly, sneaky weasel!" The funny part was that every last word of what I said was absolutely true, even down to the "weasel" part. "So you stole this when I bumped into you, huh? You know, I would've just given it to you if you asked.
I'm sure that Floatzel knew perfectly well that he would get nowhere by asking, but only because of the language barrier. He looked like he was about to try to apologize or defend himself but I cut him off, "I don't know why, and frankly I don't care too much." The criminal hung his head in preparation for the jury to deliver his sentence. "But I certainly wouldn't mind hearing all about it once we get you speaking in a manner that I can comprehend. Welcome to the team." Now be honest, were you really surprised by my decision? I didn't think so.
I clapped my once to draw absolute attention to me, "Training starts now. Swampert, what moves do you know how to use?"
"Uh, I don't know the human names for all of them. There's water gun, dive, surf, uh... what's that one I used on you back in Auburn?"
"I think that was mud shot."
"Mud shot, stomp, dig, and, uh, I think it's called hydro jet, the one where I move really fast."
"Oh, you mean 'aqua' jet."
"Yes, but I haven't completely mastered that one."
I nodded at him in acknowledgement, and turned to Floatzel. "And you?" Swampert was kind enough to translate what seemed like complete gobbledygook to me || Did I just write "gobbledygook"? I didn't even know that I knew that word! || into water gun, aqua jet, surf, dive, and swift. "So, not a whole lot of variety between you. I suppose that it can't really be helped, but let's see if we can't get you two using more varied techniques. Floatzel, you seem like the speedy strike type and Swampert, you strike me as more of an 'up close and personal' kind of pokemon. So as for you, we should see if we can't tighten up your allegedly shaky aqua jet." I'm now thinking that "allegedly" may not have been the best word to use, as I think that it made me sound as if I doubted his claim of not being excellent at aqua jet. "And you, Floatzel, are very well suited for aquatic battling as I've seen with my own two eyes, but the opportunity for lake battles will rarely present itself, which means that we need to work on your land skills.
"So to recap, Swampert, practice aqua jet with that tree as your target while I work mostly with Floatzel. Floatzel, we'll be doing two things. We'll see if you can't learn a move called 'quick attack'. I think that the concept is similar to aqua jet, only that you're feet remain on the ground." (Ha, look at me! I sound like I know exactly what I'm doing despite the fact that this is a perfect example of the blind leading the blind!) Ben Kenobi's line from Star Wars IV came to mind, "Who's the bigger fool: the fool, or the fool who follows him?" My answer was that the fool who was leading was the bigger fool here. "That seems too easy though, so you're going to be doing that while trying to learn to speak English. Does it sound hard enough yet? Get to it!" __________________________________________________________
The Café Sauté. I wish that I knew how to pronounce that. Don't be fooled by the restaurant's name; it isn't some fancy place with a mandatory dress code. Guitars signed by people I've never heard of decorated the walls, rock music was played, and it sold T-shirts in every location. It's almost exactly like the Hard Rock Café back in your world, except that only humans were allowed in the Hard Rock that I remembered. If pokemon centers were hospitals and hotels for trainers, than this would be the trainer's restaurant.
The five of us, Floatzel included, had arrived in Umber Town a couple of hours after finishing the training session. Apparently Michael and Shanon took my advice and went off to train on their own, so when we finished the four of us waited for twenty minutes or so for Michael to catch up. It sure wasn't easy explaining where Floatzel came from.
"So," starts Michael while we waited for our food, "while you were swimming, you saw him in trouble and helped him?"
"Yeah, pretty much." I lied.
"YOU had to help HIM?"
"What, you don't think I could save someone if I wanted to?"
"And you didn't mention that this morning?"
"You didn't ask." I joked.
"'Oh by the way, did you happen to save a floatzel in trouble last night?' Was I supposed to think to ask that?"
"I would have."
"Very funny."
"I thought so."
"And you caught him without any help from Swampert?" That one caught me off guard and I didn't have the presence of mind to answer immediately.
"I told you, he just volunteered to come along," I said and Floatzel reaffirmed it by nodding. I suppose he was willing to back me up there because it's the one thing I said that wasn't a lie. I never did get around to asking him why in heck he weaseled his way into the team, || Pun completely intended || but I doubt I would've gotten anywhere if I did. He now spoke English nearly flawlessly, but was more of the quiet type. Don't get confused, he isn't shy or timid, he just keeps to himself most of the time during conversation. That said, he seems perfectly OK with conversing, but I suppose that he prefers small groups because he was pretty normal when it was just me and Swampert with him, though still speaking a little less than the average person would.
I had to fight the urge to say "Thank god!" when the food arrived. If you're ever stuck eating nothing except whichever fish pokemon will bite, you'll never look at a restaurant the same way again. Quit being so cheap and just eat at your closest five-star French place, because I don't believe anymore that it's even possible for food to be overpriced.
It's a good thing that Sauté takes this trainer cash.
__________________________________________________________
It had been too long since I got the chance to let loose and rock out, so I downright refused to let this chance escape. I was all plugged in and tuned up; all that remained was to start the opening riff.
D.D.D-D-D-D-G.G.G-G-G-G-F.F.F-F-F-F-E.E.E-E-E-E-D.D.D-D-D-D
Good thing I was alone in our room in the center, because I was singing, too.
"I walk the line,
The line I choose,
I see the peo-ple in front of me!
I climb the wall,
The wall of news,
I watch them show the trad-ge-dy!"
I would have been really embarrassed if somebody found me here; I like to think of myself as a decent guitarist despite my total experience of one year and no performances, but I can't sing. I think that I have a pretty good metal scream though, so that's what I was doing. Well, I suppose that screaming and rapping is the only future for us losers with no talent. || I'm joking. While I do believe that screamers and rappers have no talent, I don't think that I'm COMPLETELY hopeless. ||
Of course, I would have been embarrassed just to be found playing; I'm not super self-conscious, but my musical skill is an exception to that rule.
"I've fall-en in love with the old times,
I never men-tion my own mind,
Let's FUCK the world with all its trend,
Thank god it's all a-bout to end!
They say it's all a-bout to end!
They say,
THEY SAY!
They say,
They say,
They say it's all a-BOUT TO END!"
I added my own little solo at the end for my own amusement. "What's about to end?" I was startled by the unexpected, but not ENTIRELY unwelcome voice. "So THAT'S what that thing you always carry around does." I turned to look directly behind me and, surely enough, Swampert and Floatzel were standing in the doorway of the room. It was Swampert who had been speaking. (Huh? Oh, you must mean my guitar.)
That's what I wanted to say, but in my current state all that would come out was, "Oh! Uh..." I looked away, irrationally embarrassed about what I had just been caught doing.
"What's the problem?" asked Swampert. I guess he knew me well enough by now, even if it's only been three days, that he didn't have to ask, "Is there a problem?" (Quit being such a wimp, it's not like it's a deep dark secret that I like to play the guitar!)
"I was just- just-"
"It was good. Did you write that?" Floatzel had spoken that time and he had said the very last thing that I expected to hear, even though I'd already told the two that I like to write music and even let them listen to my IPod for some time during our travels. Their reactions were priceless, too; I suppose that I shouldn't have been surprised considering that music isn't something that the average wild pokemon is really exposed to. They were instantly captivated by the sound, so I suppose that they must have felt something a little special about being in the presence of somebody who actually makes music. I guess I shouldn't really put it like that; I'm really just another kid with a love of rock and a dream of performing.
I was starting to sweat, despite the fact that the room was comfortably cool. The compliment shouldn't have been so unexpected, but it was to me at the time. "Uh, are you OK?" asked Swampert.
"Y-yeah, I'm fine." I saw Swampert's expression change right when I said that because he knew very well that if I was alright, then I would have said, "I FEEL fine," and not, "I'M fine." I don't remember if I've already explained this, and I'm too lazy to look, but I never say "I am" and then an adjective describing how I feel because how I feel can change and I think that when somebody says "I am" it's implying, "I always am." Sorry to bore you with that. "N-no, I didn't write that but it's one of my favorite songs to play because it's full of energy. Here, listen to it. It's 'They Say' by Scars On Broadway." I said while holding out my IPod that I had just taken out from my pocket.
I would have thought it was funny to see two pokemon sharing one set of ear buds and listening to an IPod if I wasn't too busy trying to cover up my already revealed current state of mind. (It's getting hot in here!) The thermostat read 72 degrees, however.
"Actually, I think you sounded even better than this," said Swampert when they finished listening, "but why don't you make all of those other sounds, too?"
(It's too hot in here!) "I'm just one person. I'd need other people to do that." (Dammit, why won't it cool down?!) I rarely swear as you may have noticed, so when I say even a moderate curse then I really mean it. Hey, I'm just now realizing that Swampert obviously knew that I was pretty ill at ease, but must have been covering up for me in front of Floatzel. Boy, can I pick 'em.
"Other musicians?" asked Swampert. "Hmm, maybe I could learn to do something like that." The idea actually sounded like a very good one to me. Unfortunately it seemed like he was joking, although I can't be absolutely sure. After all, he's already proven himself to share my weakness of asking things from other people.
"Maybe I could imagine you playing the bass or the drums." I joked back, though it was a true statement in my mind. (CHANGE THE FREAKIN' SUBJECT!) "Hey, have I ever talked to you two about nicknames?" (NO! NOT THAT, YOU IDIOT!)
It was too late to fix my mistake though; I now had their full and undivided attention.
Swampert brought up an interesting question this morning. He asked to flip through my little journal, and I agreed seeing as he was the only one of the three who I had nothing to hide from and because he still needed to work on his reading. Anyway, he asked, "Why does your writing look like you expect somebody to read this?"
"Oh, so you can read my sloppy handwriting? Not bad. Anyway, I write that way because someone would be reading it if I had any say. Hey, where'd you put my belt with all of my poke-balls on it?"
"It's right there," Swampert said while pointing at my belt on the ground. I picked it up, but didn't put it on because-
"Hey, it looks like one of the balls is missing. Have you seen it?" I asked Shanon, who was busy with packing up the tent.
She replied, "I don't know!"
"Hey, Dillon! Shanon!" Michael called. He had just returned from refilling our canteens by the river. He walked over to where we were and asked, "Either of you missing something?" He was holding up my missing poke-ball.
"Oh, that's mine! Thanks." When I reached for it, though, he wouldn't give it to me. "What?"
"Why was it at the river?" (Oh, crap.)
"You woke me up, so I had nothing to do. I went for a little swim. Didn't you notice my wet clothes?" Michael seemed to buy it. (He's not too perceptive, it seems. He didn't even ask about why I was sleeping outside.) Now Michael gave it to me and I belted it.
"OK, let's get moving."
__________________________________________________________
URGENT MESSAGE TO ALL TRAVELERS WHO WISH TO GET WHERE THEY'RE GOING ON FOOT: Do NOT bring your guitar. If you do, bring an acoustic guitar because they aren't quite as heavy. If you have made the mistake of bringing an electric guitar, then there is still hope for you as long as you meet the following condition: you did not bring your amp! If you have made all of these errors then I'm afraid that you're doomed to an ordeal of carrying pointlessly heavy objects across long distances, just as I now am.
After a number of hours of walking, Swampert held me up with his arm and looked me in the eyes to nonverbally say, "Talk. Now." The two of us were already lagging a little bit behind the humans, who were in conversation with each other about Disturbed's "Asylum" album, so we backtracked even more to get out of earshot of them. "Now what's bothering you?"
(Well, it's not like it's a big secret, not from him anyway.) "I'm thinking that I made a mistake by bringing Shanon and Michael. They aren't coping well, and I'm blaming myself."
"What makes you think that?"
"Well, while you were sleeping, Michael and I had a little argument. He implied that he wanted to leave, but before he could come out and say anything direct, Shanon broke it up."
"What did she say?"
"She told us to be quiet so we could sleep."
"So she didn't say anything about being here?"
"No... I guess she didn't. Huh, maybe no news is good news in this case."
Michael called from ahead, "Hey, hurry up!" (It looks like "special talk time" is over.) It wasn't until then that I noticed that his typical monotone voice was now replaced with an energetic and inflective sound. Shanon and Michael stopped to allow me and Swampert to catch up. "Hey Dillon, I wanna talk to you." (Two down, five to go. Of course, those two were the most obvious ones.) "About last night, I'm sorry. And I don't wanna go back, even though it sounded like it. I don't know why I was acting like that. Are we good?" (Oh! Two came true, one was proven false, one may still happen but probably won't, and three are still up in the air.)
"'We' as people are neither good nor bad as is the case with every living thing, but if you mean that we have no more reason to conflict, then yes, I forgive you." The embarrassing truth is that I honestly couldn't tell if he was asking if we were good people or if I forgave him. So, I just decided to cover all of the bases.
My stomach growled like an angry ursaring. "Hey, do you three think that it's time to eat?"
The answer was "yes." We deviated three feet or so from the path so as not to obstruct other travelers, which weren't too common around here, but we'd still pass by a solo or small group of trainers once in a while. Swampert laid out the blanket while I dug out the food. The other humans didn't really do anything except sit down and wait to be served. "Thanks a lot for your help, guys." I said sarcastically, but in a joking manner. We had nothing too special to eat, just some sandwiches that we pre-made before we started walking. Me, I had the old fluffanutter. Swampert wanted to give it a try, but asked what it was made of first. When he didn't recognize what peanut butter, bread, and marshmallow fluff were though, he went right back to eating his magikarp sandwich, which I suppose is the equivalent of tuna.
"How on earth can you eat this? Whatever this is covering my magikarp, it's disgusting!" Swampert pulled a piece of bread off of his sandwich, tossed it aside, and ate the magikarp off of the other slice of bread without eating the bread. (Yeah, THAT'S what's disgusting about the present situation!) It was hard to resist saying that aloud.
"Hey, you'd better finish that quickly because you're long overdue to start training." I knew that the announcement would come as a surprise and catch him off guard, which was exactly the effect I was going for. "Whoops, too late!" He was finished eating anyway, so I pulled him aside and pulled him for a couple of feet before he began to follow me on his own. "You guys might want to take a leaf out of my book!" I called back as we walked away.
A lone tree was conveniently located a hundred or so feet away, forming a satisfactory training dummy. "So, how should we start?" inquires Swampert.
"We start by greeting the newest addition to the team." Swampert was about to ask what in heck I was talking about before I plucked what anybody who wasn't me would mistake as a completely random poke-ball from my belt, and tossed it into the air, at which time its occupant took center stage. Swampert had his eyes wide open in surprise. "Heh-heh, you sly, sneaky weasel!" The funny part was that every last word of what I said was absolutely true, even down to the "weasel" part. "So you stole this when I bumped into you, huh? You know, I would've just given it to you if you asked.
I'm sure that Floatzel knew perfectly well that he would get nowhere by asking, but only because of the language barrier. He looked like he was about to try to apologize or defend himself but I cut him off, "I don't know why, and frankly I don't care too much." The criminal hung his head in preparation for the jury to deliver his sentence. "But I certainly wouldn't mind hearing all about it once we get you speaking in a manner that I can comprehend. Welcome to the team." Now be honest, were you really surprised by my decision? I didn't think so.
I clapped my once to draw absolute attention to me, "Training starts now. Swampert, what moves do you know how to use?"
"Uh, I don't know the human names for all of them. There's water gun, dive, surf, uh... what's that one I used on you back in Auburn?"
"I think that was mud shot."
"Mud shot, stomp, dig, and, uh, I think it's called hydro jet, the one where I move really fast."
"Oh, you mean 'aqua' jet."
"Yes, but I haven't completely mastered that one."
I nodded at him in acknowledgement, and turned to Floatzel. "And you?" Swampert was kind enough to translate what seemed like complete gobbledygook to me || Did I just write "gobbledygook"? I didn't even know that I knew that word! || into water gun, aqua jet, surf, dive, and swift. "So, not a whole lot of variety between you. I suppose that it can't really be helped, but let's see if we can't get you two using more varied techniques. Floatzel, you seem like the speedy strike type and Swampert, you strike me as more of an 'up close and personal' kind of pokemon. So as for you, we should see if we can't tighten up your allegedly shaky aqua jet." I'm now thinking that "allegedly" may not have been the best word to use, as I think that it made me sound as if I doubted his claim of not being excellent at aqua jet. "And you, Floatzel, are very well suited for aquatic battling as I've seen with my own two eyes, but the opportunity for lake battles will rarely present itself, which means that we need to work on your land skills.
"So to recap, Swampert, practice aqua jet with that tree as your target while I work mostly with Floatzel. Floatzel, we'll be doing two things. We'll see if you can't learn a move called 'quick attack'. I think that the concept is similar to aqua jet, only that you're feet remain on the ground." (Ha, look at me! I sound like I know exactly what I'm doing despite the fact that this is a perfect example of the blind leading the blind!) Ben Kenobi's line from Star Wars IV came to mind, "Who's the bigger fool: the fool, or the fool who follows him?" My answer was that the fool who was leading was the bigger fool here. "That seems too easy though, so you're going to be doing that while trying to learn to speak English. Does it sound hard enough yet? Get to it!" __________________________________________________________
The Café Sauté. I wish that I knew how to pronounce that. Don't be fooled by the restaurant's name; it isn't some fancy place with a mandatory dress code. Guitars signed by people I've never heard of decorated the walls, rock music was played, and it sold T-shirts in every location. It's almost exactly like the Hard Rock Café back in your world, except that only humans were allowed in the Hard Rock that I remembered. If pokemon centers were hospitals and hotels for trainers, than this would be the trainer's restaurant.
The five of us, Floatzel included, had arrived in Umber Town a couple of hours after finishing the training session. Apparently Michael and Shanon took my advice and went off to train on their own, so when we finished the four of us waited for twenty minutes or so for Michael to catch up. It sure wasn't easy explaining where Floatzel came from.
"So," starts Michael while we waited for our food, "while you were swimming, you saw him in trouble and helped him?"
"Yeah, pretty much." I lied.
"YOU had to help HIM?"
"What, you don't think I could save someone if I wanted to?"
"And you didn't mention that this morning?"
"You didn't ask." I joked.
"'Oh by the way, did you happen to save a floatzel in trouble last night?' Was I supposed to think to ask that?"
"I would have."
"Very funny."
"I thought so."
"And you caught him without any help from Swampert?" That one caught me off guard and I didn't have the presence of mind to answer immediately.
"I told you, he just volunteered to come along," I said and Floatzel reaffirmed it by nodding. I suppose he was willing to back me up there because it's the one thing I said that wasn't a lie. I never did get around to asking him why in heck he weaseled his way into the team, || Pun completely intended || but I doubt I would've gotten anywhere if I did. He now spoke English nearly flawlessly, but was more of the quiet type. Don't get confused, he isn't shy or timid, he just keeps to himself most of the time during conversation. That said, he seems perfectly OK with conversing, but I suppose that he prefers small groups because he was pretty normal when it was just me and Swampert with him, though still speaking a little less than the average person would.
I had to fight the urge to say "Thank god!" when the food arrived. If you're ever stuck eating nothing except whichever fish pokemon will bite, you'll never look at a restaurant the same way again. Quit being so cheap and just eat at your closest five-star French place, because I don't believe anymore that it's even possible for food to be overpriced.
It's a good thing that Sauté takes this trainer cash.
__________________________________________________________
It had been too long since I got the chance to let loose and rock out, so I downright refused to let this chance escape. I was all plugged in and tuned up; all that remained was to start the opening riff.
D.D.D-D-D-D-G.G.G-G-G-G-F.F.F-F-F-F-E.E.E-E-E-E-D.D.D-D-D-D
Good thing I was alone in our room in the center, because I was singing, too.
"I walk the line,
The line I choose,
I see the peo-ple in front of me!
I climb the wall,
The wall of news,
I watch them show the trad-ge-dy!"
I would have been really embarrassed if somebody found me here; I like to think of myself as a decent guitarist despite my total experience of one year and no performances, but I can't sing. I think that I have a pretty good metal scream though, so that's what I was doing. Well, I suppose that screaming and rapping is the only future for us losers with no talent. || I'm joking. While I do believe that screamers and rappers have no talent, I don't think that I'm COMPLETELY hopeless. ||
Of course, I would have been embarrassed just to be found playing; I'm not super self-conscious, but my musical skill is an exception to that rule.
"I've fall-en in love with the old times,
I never men-tion my own mind,
Let's FUCK the world with all its trend,
Thank god it's all a-bout to end!
They say it's all a-bout to end!
They say,
THEY SAY!
They say,
They say,
They say it's all a-BOUT TO END!"
I added my own little solo at the end for my own amusement. "What's about to end?" I was startled by the unexpected, but not ENTIRELY unwelcome voice. "So THAT'S what that thing you always carry around does." I turned to look directly behind me and, surely enough, Swampert and Floatzel were standing in the doorway of the room. It was Swampert who had been speaking. (Huh? Oh, you must mean my guitar.)
That's what I wanted to say, but in my current state all that would come out was, "Oh! Uh..." I looked away, irrationally embarrassed about what I had just been caught doing.
"What's the problem?" asked Swampert. I guess he knew me well enough by now, even if it's only been three days, that he didn't have to ask, "Is there a problem?" (Quit being such a wimp, it's not like it's a deep dark secret that I like to play the guitar!)
"I was just- just-"
"It was good. Did you write that?" Floatzel had spoken that time and he had said the very last thing that I expected to hear, even though I'd already told the two that I like to write music and even let them listen to my IPod for some time during our travels. Their reactions were priceless, too; I suppose that I shouldn't have been surprised considering that music isn't something that the average wild pokemon is really exposed to. They were instantly captivated by the sound, so I suppose that they must have felt something a little special about being in the presence of somebody who actually makes music. I guess I shouldn't really put it like that; I'm really just another kid with a love of rock and a dream of performing.
I was starting to sweat, despite the fact that the room was comfortably cool. The compliment shouldn't have been so unexpected, but it was to me at the time. "Uh, are you OK?" asked Swampert.
"Y-yeah, I'm fine." I saw Swampert's expression change right when I said that because he knew very well that if I was alright, then I would have said, "I FEEL fine," and not, "I'M fine." I don't remember if I've already explained this, and I'm too lazy to look, but I never say "I am" and then an adjective describing how I feel because how I feel can change and I think that when somebody says "I am" it's implying, "I always am." Sorry to bore you with that. "N-no, I didn't write that but it's one of my favorite songs to play because it's full of energy. Here, listen to it. It's 'They Say' by Scars On Broadway." I said while holding out my IPod that I had just taken out from my pocket.
I would have thought it was funny to see two pokemon sharing one set of ear buds and listening to an IPod if I wasn't too busy trying to cover up my already revealed current state of mind. (It's getting hot in here!) The thermostat read 72 degrees, however.
"Actually, I think you sounded even better than this," said Swampert when they finished listening, "but why don't you make all of those other sounds, too?"
(It's too hot in here!) "I'm just one person. I'd need other people to do that." (Dammit, why won't it cool down?!) I rarely swear as you may have noticed, so when I say even a moderate curse then I really mean it. Hey, I'm just now realizing that Swampert obviously knew that I was pretty ill at ease, but must have been covering up for me in front of Floatzel. Boy, can I pick 'em.
"Other musicians?" asked Swampert. "Hmm, maybe I could learn to do something like that." The idea actually sounded like a very good one to me. Unfortunately it seemed like he was joking, although I can't be absolutely sure. After all, he's already proven himself to share my weakness of asking things from other people.
"Maybe I could imagine you playing the bass or the drums." I joked back, though it was a true statement in my mind. (CHANGE THE FREAKIN' SUBJECT!) "Hey, have I ever talked to you two about nicknames?" (NO! NOT THAT, YOU IDIOT!)
It was too late to fix my mistake though; I now had their full and undivided attention.