You think to yourself; what's the good of being in the Pokemon world... if you don't get to socialize?
With a zing and a zip, you teleport your mighty Mewtwo butt to Cerulean city. The hustle! The bustle!
The buildings lined up one after the other! All the peoples. And there! There, the huge mall! The ultra Poke Center of commerce! You start floating over the ground in a very gnarly manner.
Needless to say, all eyes are on you. As you pass by, everybody stops what they're doing and stares. You figure, most of the world didn't learn of Mewtwo's existence in the plot of the first movie, but they'll know you're a Pokemon, none the less.
"Hank?" An old woman calls as you pass by.
"There's a Pokemon in the driveway."
"Use a repel spray on it!"
But you're gone. Soon, the double doors of the mall open, and before you lies a room the size of a football stadium, with grand sweeping escalators far in front of you, and diagonally to your right and left at about 45 degrees. All the place is jammed full of stores, carts, pushcarts, vending machines, wholesales, partial sales, used sales, arcades, food stalls, mercantiles, dentists, barbers, cobbliers, hosiers, clothiers... everything. I mean, this is Edmunton Mall caliber.
Again, you make quite the splash, astounding everyone you pass by with a wink, a three-fingered handshake, or a friendly psychic "'sup?" and a nod. In rapture, you skate around the place on a cloud of psychic energy. A security guard comes up to you.
"Um... I gotta getchoo outta here, buddy," he says.
"Aw, c'mon, man; I just wanna shop," you reply.
He didn't know you could talk. "Huh?"
You continue on.
Soon you emerge from a clothing store with some custom shades and a jacket with a Master Ball stitched on the back and "Master This" stitched on the front. You enter an arcade and negotiate a "diplomatic" transaction of tokens from the clerk. You give a nod to a wild-haired Pokemon lad who's standing next to you on the other steel pad of Kanto's version of Dance Dance Revolution, put in some coins (with your MIND, no less), flip your shades onto your horns, and start dancing.
The guy next to you stares at you. He looks you over. He looks at his buddies, mouthing silent questions. His buddies don't have any answers. He looks back at you. He shrugs.
He joins you in dancing.
...And legions of curious Pokemon trainers amass outside.
Written by Mr.Peaches on 23 July 2006
Wild Trainers Appear!