To be quite honest, this week is a bit of a tease. As a Pokédrag trainer of an ever-increasing army, I find my own skills being tested (perhaps also my patience, as I was never a fan of grinding on the dance floor). New lessons are learned, dirt is eaten, and Pokédrag queens and kings faint as I keep pushing their limits. As you may recall, last week I was all set to head to the Rock Tunnel, as that is where it seemed was the latest hot spot, according to everyone with whom I spoke.
Unfortunately, as I made my way east of Cerulean City, I found all but a handful of my Poké-tutees severely under-classed. They were simply not fierce enough for these other enthusiasts. They sent out ball after ball of spunky fighters who were readily defeated my pretties. It was a travesty. Mascara ran. Socks tumbled out of pant legs. Fake mustaches went sliding down faces.
“Well,” thought I, “it is perhaps time to perform another training montage.” First, however, a thought occurred to me: Was not a young girl seeking to trade a female Nidoran in exchange for a male one? Since I was not willing to trade Barbarella, I decided to go back through the Diglett Cave and grab another. He was readily found and introduced himself as Antoinette. He had aspirations of one day being a Nidoqueen, to hear him tell it. On my way back to trade with the girl outside the Underground Passage, we discussed the finer points of Nido-royalty.
He happily bowed when we came to the young girl. It may have been the smear of cake on her lips, but he seemed all too happy to be traded. Meanwhile, I greeted Ms. Nido, who seemed rather upset with her rather frumpy name. She confided she would prefer to be called Louis XIV. I did not yet possess such absolute power, but I assured her we would build up her persona and make it so. Meanwhile, I went about starting my training with her, and she quickly decided being a simple Nidoran was of no real interest to her, and became instead a Nidorina.
The montage continued, wild Pokémon after wild Pokémon succumbing to high kicks, dripping machismo, and raunchy jokes. The first to follow Ms. Nido’s cue was Morgana. Apparently just splashing about as a Magikarp had lost its charm, and she decided she wished to be a bit more intimidating. What I did not expect was the monster of a Gyarados she suddenly displayed. I could now see that the name Morgana was a sure indicator of great things to come from her. Immediately she learned a dark form of biting. I cannot say I know much of such sport, but she winked seductively.
Next was my Rattata, Ms. Brisby. She had taken a bit of offense at the maligning of the “Ms.” title as dowdy, and this must have spurred her into action. Much like Morgana, she started bulking up, and before I knew it, she was donning a scary face, and had become a plus-sized queen in the manner of a Raticate. It was truly a sight to behold as she clenched her jaw, bristled her fur, and seemed to have a hint of pure, unadulterated bloodlust in her front teeth. People seem to like a good scare every once in a while, so I figured her act would be received well by her audiences.
Then came along Celaneo. She had watched Kaiser gain a beautiful mane and decided she could not be outdone by a Pidgey turned Pidgeotto. Much like Ms. Brisby, it seemed she was going the more fearsome route, dubbing her next act the Fearow. Suddenly she became a graceful act of pain and horror. While she had never been particularly cute or cuddly, she was now also less fluffy, and much more lean. It gave her an angry look that dared anyone to mess with her. I approved.
Having taken care of this bout of training, I moved back to Cerulean City and carefully selected my Pokédrag queens and kings to make our way to the Rock Tunnel. This time we managed to demolish foe after foe, as trainers around us cried, made poor puns, and laughed with good humor. Some even paid me compliments, saying I had obvious talent. My retinue beamed and strutted after that particular comment.
So yes, as I am learning, a Pokédrag trainer need be made of sterner stuff, and needs to impart a more general-like air around her troops. As I walked through the path of hills and grasses, I came across a Pokécenter, and decided to rest up my Pokémon. There would be no flash dancing in the Rock Tunnels this week, but I had already made sure my Butterfree Grete was prepared. She had been along for the training, though she kept her act. It seemed she had found her groove, which is why her willingness to take on this FLASH move spoke to me as someone ready for whatever may come.
As I sit at this Pokécenter outside the Rock Tunnel, I can only hope what I have learned will help ease next week’s journey.