Pokefan Sam

This path is meant to be enjoyed by all. If a Pokémon or piece of jargon is not explained, you can safely assume it’s not needed to understand the story. Enjoy.

I look at myself and see my dyed red hair. I wanted it to turn out orange like Misty from the Pokémon anime, but I gave up when it was clear the color was too dark and settled for a pixie cut with a bit of extra hair in back I could pin up into a little hair floof. There is probably a more hair savvy way to describe it, but I have managed to empty my brain of everything I can’t connect to Pokémon or school. I’d always liked Pokémon, but I was just a light fan since I didn’t want to be made fun of. But then my older cousin visited and told me that Pokéfandom followed a consistent trajectory. It’s cool in elementary, okay in middle school, embarrassing in high school, and then awesome again in college.

I thought of all my future friends I could bond over Pokéfacts with as I admired my black Pokéball T-shirt under my yellow Pikachu sweater jacket. Under that I was wearing a knee length blue skirt covered with tiny pictures of all 151 original Pokémon. I had on white Vanillish socks in pink Jigglypuff sneakers.

Okay. That means I’m ready. I have every single Pokémon memorized up to the current generation. I know all their types, their special abilities, and I know how to use both EV’s and IV’s to train Pokémon. I watched every season of the anime this summer, and played through all the main line games except remakes. I’ve memorized all the type advantages and weaknesses, studied the major competitive tournaments from the past two years to see what teams are considered strong. I’ve watched hours of online streamers attempt nuzlocke challenges. I’m going to be best friends with my roommate who will look up to me for having over ten shiny Pokémon that weren’t hard-coded into their games.

I just need to make it to my room. It’s cool. I haven’t seen so much as a single piece of Pokémon paraphernalia outside of my own car… but that’s fine. My cousin wouldn’t lie to me. Except about the frog. And the spider. And what Christmas presents were made of (I cried when he told me my doll was actually a misbehaved sister I never met). But no. People like Pokémon. It’s true. My back seat full of plushies is totally going to be fine. Okay. Let’s just… go find my room and unpack.

I get out of my car, consciously trying to stand up straight enough to get that extra half inch nature never gave me to make 5’0” height, and grab the two giant black garbage bags full of Pokémon plushies. I want to proudly display my love of the franchise… but I still thank Arceus that the easiest way to move them wasn’t transparent.

I should probably bring in more important things like school supplies… but I feel like I need to smuggle contraband out of my car before it’s searched by the popularity police. I run quickly from my car to the dorm building and then book it up the stairs. I accidentally go up an extra flight of stairs, but I eventually find my way to my new room. I stand in front of my door and wonder if my roommate is here already. She should be… maybe I should take off the sweater jacket. One less piece of evidence against me.

I shake my head. No. Ash didn’t turn his back on Pokémon when he got stuck with an angry rodent that tasered him constantly. Or when he became constantly harassed by a criminal organization, or when he got a gun drawn on him for reasons surprisingly unrelated to that criminal organization… yeah I would never have become a Pokémon master. But that’s okay, because I just have to open this door. Yeah. Deep breath. Better knock first. Just going to raise my hand and… how many is too many? No, don’t think about it, just do a normal knock.

Knock knock knock knock knock.

Why did I do five!? Who does five? Psychopaths, that’s who.