Chapter 11
The Poké Ball Started at five on the close of the work week and would run the length of the weekend, with all the stores closed so that their employees may participate. Local restaurants participated, some with vendor carts, or some just opening their place of business for free. People arrived from nearby cities, or even further, having trekked for days, or flown in by Pokémon. Apparently, it was a much bigger ado than Jon had anticipated, and suddenly he had an explanation for all the extra Jenny’s and Joy’s running around. There were kiosk showing off new Poké balls, and offering free samples. Jon was given the last free sample of a 100 percent guaranteed ball. When Mentos got there, the vendor said, “Sorry, try again tomorrow.” Mentos was frustrated, but ran to another, more promising, vendor.
Jon was so excited exploring the types of Pokémon balls, that for a while he got separated from his friends and didn’t even know it. In his wildest dreams, he wouldn’t have imagined so many types of balls. Specialty balls. Dream balls. Beast balls! Heal Balls. Cherish Balls. Luxury balls. He wanted one of everyone, but after paying his friends back out of his winnings, he didn’t have that kind of cash, and so he simply had to rely on the chance of a free sample, which usually was a random selection offered randomly.
After filling his eyes with balls, and a reasonable selection of freebies, he found himself sorting crystals and stones and objects that could affect Pokémon in various ways. Jon passed a booth that seemed to resemble a dunking tank. The lady dressed as a mermaid sitting on the ledge above the water called out to him. He paused. She smiled, humming an eerily familiar song, and waved him in closer. He couldn’t help but go to her. Her humming was almost magical, and with it directed at him, it was as if only he could hear it. He even checked his environment and found no one else seemed to be hearing her. The water in her tank looked incredibly inviting and he was tempted to jump in it with her. She stirred the waters with her tail, and he suddenly had doubts about whether or not it was an actual suit, as if she were a real mermaid. Could she be a Pokémon? A replica statue of Han Christian Anderson’s ‘nymp’ sculpted by Edvard Erikson sat near the booth, where nymphets passed out coffee, in cups painted with a mermaid with frizzy hair, dazzled and blown by Pokémon.
“Hi!” she said. “I’m Miranda. And those lovely Pokémon maids over there, well, those are my friends, The Weeki Wachee Mermaids. Would you like some coffee?”
“Hello,” Jon said. “And, no thank you. Coffee makes me sleepy. Do you have any thingamabobs?”
“Oh, I have lots of thingamabobs, but I much prefer being out amongst people, don’t you?” she asked.
“I’m getting used to it,” Jon said. “Well, enjoy your day in the sun.”
“Wait wait wait,” she said, stopping his departure. He paused, curious, waiting. She nodded, leaning a little closer, trying to give him hints, but, if we’ve learned anything about Jon, he can be perversely obtuse at the wrong moments. “Our eyes met.” She stated this as if that was sufficient explanation.
“Um. Oh!” Jon said. “So, we have to battle?”
“Oh, Sir!” she said. “Does this look like a battle booth?!”
“Ummm,” Jon stammered.
“OMG, do I have to spell it out for you?” she asked.
“Um, maybe,” Jon said, a little embarrassed.
“OMG, so many girls are passing you by diverting or lowering their eyes, but I made contact with you, and you feel nothing?” she asked.
“I am feeling a little uncomfortable,” Jon admitted, adjusting his pants.
“Please, tell me you’re not afraid of public affection,” she said.
“Well, I do come from a world where public violence is condone, but if you kiss a girl in the parking lot, people get offended,” Jon said.
“Oh, what a world!” she commiserated. “Well, not here, not in this world. You have finally arrived. This, Sir, is a kissing booth, and you made eye contact, and I expect follow through,” Miranda said.
“How much?”
“How much what?” Miranda asked, incredulously.
“How much money will it cost me?” Jon asked.
“You can’t buy your way out of this!” Miranda said. “You have to kiss me.”
“I don’t have to pay you for that privilege?” Jon asked.
“What kind of mermaid do you think I am?” Miranda demanded.
“I don’t know, we just met, and I’m really confused,” Jon almost wailed.
“How old are you?” Miranda asked.
“I really don’t know at the moment!” Jon cried.
“Aww, come closer, baby,” Miranda insisted. In front of the booth was a stool allowing him to step up to her eye level. “Shh, you’re safe with me.”
“I am?” Jon asked.
“Oh, sure, I will even prevent you from drowning, and if you kiss me right, you earn the chance of making me wet,” Miranda said.
“Uh?”
“If I really like the kiss, you will get two Pokémon balls to throw at the target, and if you dunk me, you win most grandest prize of all,” Miranda said. “OMG, you’re trembling.”
“I think I might prematurely level up,” Jon said.
“Oh, it’s just kiss,” Miranda said.
“Yeah, well, it’s never just a kiss with me,” Jon said.
“Oh, the anticipation value is increasing my wanting,” Miranda said.
They kissed. She stopped the kiss, her hand touching his face, tentatively, as affectionately embracing as a Tentacool. “Anyone ever tell you, you taste like a Pokémon?” Jon was too dazed to respond.
“Ah, never mind,” she said, returning to the kiss. She had to pause for breath again.
“You’re really responsive.” She dived back into the kiss and again was forced to come up for air.
“OMG, you’re really good at this.”
“I am feeling really lightheaded,” Jon said.
“Oh, you’re so nice!” Miranda said, kissing him more and leaving lipstick on his face.
“I’m confused why there isn’t a line here,” Jon said.
“Oh, this culture is really peculiar,” Miranda said. “It’s very hard for a mermaid to make a living. Kind of like that series Munster Musume, were monsters have to kidnap men just to get some attention.”
“Oh, I know that one!” Jon said, puzzling it through. “How do I know that one? Never mind, not relevant. But, yeah, that always baffled me. I would so go willing with any female monster wanting that kind of attention.”
“I see! Your level uncomfortableness has increased,” Miranda said, having to lean way over to help him to adjust his pants. She collected two balls from a fish net hanging on the side of her tank. “Here, you’ve earned your chance.”
Jon accepted the balls.
“What do I do with these?” Jon asked.
“They increase the odds of catching water type Pokémon. Go ahead, give it a shot,” Miranda said, pointing at the target.
Jon stepped back and tossed one at the target. He was spot on and dropped the Miranda into her tank. She put her hands against the glass, her hair wild, smiling insanely at him, and then the Pokémon ball captured her, even through the glass walls. Her merry maids rushed him.
“OMG, you caught her!” one said.
“You won the most grandest prize of all!”
“Our love and adoration,” the other said. “And we are much more intense than the Sensational Sisters.”
“I bet you never had groupies before,” another said.
“I am feeling overwhelmed,” Jon said.
“Ahh, and so humble!”
“I guess Miranda’s prediction that she would be owned by a famous trainer, and we would all live at his magical, mystical gym was right after all!” another said.
“You doubted,” she told her friend.
“Yeah, well, after she gave that sword to that Arthur fellow and nothing happened, yeah, kind of had some doubts,” she said.
“Yeah, sometimes she is way too generous in giving away her thingamajigs,” another said.
One of the maids handed Jon the Pokémon ball that had caught Miranda. “This is yours.
You should go enjoy the rest of your day, we’ll catch up to you after the fair is over.”
“Yeah, so much coffee to dispense,” the other said.
“Have fun with Miranda,” someone said.
“Yeah, don’t wander too far off the deep end, unless you plan to go diving,” another said.
“And don’t go chasing waterfalls.”
“Bye now!” they all said, giggling and hugging him and sending him on his way.
Jon walked away in a daze, holding the Miranda ball, looking back, the girls winking at him and maintaining eye contact until he was out of eye sight. He connected the ball to his ball belt and wandered back into the thick of the festivities. Confused, he turned to go back and ask a question, but the mermaid maids were resetting the dunking tank with another Mermaid. Was it a set up? Did he really win a Miranda Mermaid? Were they adopting out mermaids? He must have really won Miranda, because this next mermaid was not as pretty. In fact, he was pretty sure it was male, which was probably a good thing, because otherwise he might just keep coming back in effort to win all the Pokémon mermaids, if there was indeed such a thing. He could see himself with having all the mermaids, a full harem of meramis lounding around a future beach pool. But what did one call a male mermaid? Merman? Merfellow?
Jon found another booth where persons were able to throw a ‘ping-pong’ size Pokémon ball into a tiny fish bowl to win a miniature Magikarp.
“Yay, you won!” the hostess cheered for a boy, handing him the bowl. “Now, don’t over feed him, or you might have supersized Magikarp on your hand.”
Jon stopped at the sight of what appeared to be a Native American maid. He had assumed there wouldn’t be Native Americans here in this world, and so he drew to a halt partly because of confusion, but also because the young lady reminded him of someone. Her long, dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, and down her back, which blended in nicely with her homemade dress. He felt as if he had known her all his life. Her kiosk offered Apricorns, either freshly picked, cut, and or made into juice. The Apricorns were sorted by colors, with boxes filled to the brim and over flowing. Bags of assorted colors hung from the kiosk.
The young lady was not alone in running the booth. When she noticed Jon had paused and was looking at her, she told her friend she would be stepping away and approached Jon, offering him a sealed vial of concentrated Apricorn juice. Her Zigazoon jumped off the barrel it had been sleeping on and followed her.
“Hello,” she said. “I feel compelled to present this to you.”
“Thank you,” Jon said. “But it may be a wasted gift, as I don’t know what to do with it.”
“How old are you?” she asked.
“Everyone keeps asking me that,” Jon said.
“Well, if it’s any consolation, Sir, I don’t track my age, either,” she said. She placed the vial in his bag. She drew him over to her stand where she collected a bag of Apricorn, holding a full assortment of all the colors. She put this in his bag for him. “You’re not alone in your ignorance. It amazes me how the more society thinks it knows, the less it actually does. Did you know you can’t step into the same river twice?”
Jon was baffled by her statement. “I feel like I know you. Are you Sacagawea?”
“No,” she said, amused. “But she is one of my sisters. Or a cousin. Depends on your perspective, I guess. My name is Pokémontas. What’s yours?”’
“Jon,” said.
She then linked arms with him as if they were old friends reunited. The neighboring booth provided him a sample of bag containing all the possible berries, with instructions not to consume them, but to plant them on his journey so that he and the world may share. He was also encouraged to never consume all the berries in one place, but that if it were necessary, be sure to replant so that the future might derive benefits.
As Pokamontas led him on, her Zigazoon racing ahead, bouncing back, and then off again, she squeezed his arm and brought him closer. “If you don’t mind me saying, I get the sense that you’re lost. Maybe it’s because you don’t have a story of your own. My people have a story that we come from the stars, and wherever we are we are met; nature greets us with abundance. Sure, I sound like Erika, but my people take this philosophy extremely serious. We cultivate the old ways, keeping it alive. Before companies like the Silph began mass producing the modern Pokémon ball, we used Apricorns. But there was time, even before that, when we simply lived in harmony with Pokémon. The first tamed Pokémon was the Trickster. He was causing such mayhem amongst our people that finally we compelled our Shaman to do something. Our great shaman, who was neither chief nor warrior, captured the Trickster in a pinecone, and forever since has this path of Pokémon training been available. Those who came after the Shaman found the Apricorns made it possible for others, non-shamans, to share the path.”
She stopped him on the rise overlooking all of the festivities and the town in one, small direction, while nature was in all other direction. “We believe that everything around us is alive, has a sentient, guiding spirit. The trees, the earth, the water, the skies, everything alive and working in synergistic ways to sustain it all. We all start guiding a single molecule, and as we advance, we are allowed access to greater complexity of atoms, to greater complexity of molecules, to greater numbers of them all in combinations. We all rise together we all fall together. We all evolve together. This planet itself is evolving. People don’t like to hear that, but that is because they lack vision. They’re afraid of change. This moment will not always be this moment.”
Pokémontas stepped into song, basically a Pokémon version of “Color of the Wind,” pulling him along through vortex of dimension of space and time, showing him the world of Pokémon, and how it all was all related and how he fit into the current scheme of things. When it was over he found himself back on the hill, and though the town was there, all the kiosks and tents were there, there were no people, no Pokémon, only plants, and she was kissing him. She ended the kiss.
“Maybe you won’t remember this,” Pokémontas said. “Maybe you won’t remember me. But if you listen to your heart, you will find all the colors you need.”
And then, suddenly, Pokémontas was gone, and he was standing on the hill, people coming and going, everyone there just as they always were. So many people, pushing past him, most diverting their gaze as if he was too bright to look at directly without consequence. Was it true that every eyes that met created worlds? He turned looking for Pokémontas and found Loxy suddenly there.
“You okay?” Loxy asked.
“Um,” Jon began. “Just looking for someone.”
“Yay me, you found someone,” Loxy beamed.
“I am so glad I found you,” Jon said.
“Oh, Sir,” Loxy said, embracing him. “Statements like that might takes us places. But, if you don’t mind me saying, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. I know, this place can be overwhelming, but you’re safe with me. Come on, I want to go to the dance. That is, if you’re finished collecting items?”
“I think if you don’t draw me away, there is no end to collecting here,” Jon said. “Did you find everything you need?”
“Ah, just the bare necessities,” Loxy said.
“Oh! I am like a kid at Willy Wonka’s place!” Jon said. “I want everything, but I am trying hard not to be too greedy, because I don’t want to trigger an Oompa Loompa song.”
“You say the strangest things, sometimes,” Loxy said. “Are Oompa Loompa’s a type of Pokémon?”
“That would explain a lot, actually,” Jon said, sorting it. “Especially when you considered they were pestered by Vermicious Knids, Whangdoodles, Hornswogglers, and Snozzwangers.”
“Those sound like really cool Pokémon,” Loxy said.
“Well, yeah, I suppose, unless you’re an Oompa Loompa,” Jon said.
“So, would you go to the dance with me?” Loxy asked.
Jon looked at his shoes, biting his lip.
“Oh, someone already asked,” Loxy said. “Reese? Jenny? Joy?”
“No, no one asked,” Jon said. “It’s just, I don’t know how to dance.”
“How old are you?” Loxy said.
“Mom always said dancing was gay, and my choices were football or football,” Jon said.
“Texas is very serious about football, but even if I signed up, I would only be an ass back.”
“An ass back?” Loxy asked.
“Yeah, every time I get off the bench, the coach says, ‘get your ass back here,’” Jon said.
“Everyone should have chance to play,” Loxy said.
“Yeah, not so much. It’s not like here, Loxy. Kids aren’t just given a Pokémon and sent out into the world to explore. You either rise through the ranks by having that special killing spirit, or you become fodder or footstools for those who do.”
“I don’t like your world,” Loxy said.
“I am probably not representing it fairly,” Jon said. “I can only tell you what I experienced. There are rumors of better, kinder places.”
“For example?” Loxy asked.
“Places where there isn’t any trouble. Behind the moon, beyond the rain,” Jon said.
“Oh,” Loxy said. “You’re about to sing a song, aren’t you?”
“Every time I am with you, I want to sing,” Jon said.
“That is so hot,” Loxy said. “Wait wait wait, you did that whole song and dance outside the gym. You even mob flashed everyone into participating!”
“Oh, no, that wasn’t me,” Jon said. “I was possessed.”
“Well, then, you should go to the dance with me so we can see what possesses us,” Loxy said.
“Oh, if only some dance dance revolution kid could control me,” Jon said.
“Come on,” Loxy said, taking him by the hand.
Loxy led him to a blue tent. Separated by several kiosks was a pink tent.
“Go through here, and I will meet you on the other side,” Loxy said.
“What’s in there?” Jon asked.
“Clothes,” Loxy said.
“No, you were supposed to say, ‘only what you take with you,’” Jon said.
“Um, no,” Loxy said. “Males blue tent. Females Pink tent. Purple tent is anyone tent. Go through, let the fashion folks have their fun, and then I will meet you on the dance floor.”
“Are you sure you want to be seen on the floor with me?” Jon asked.
“I am not embarrassed to be seen with you,” Loxy insisted.
“What if I step on your toes?” Jon asked.
“I will bring a heal potion,” Loxy said. Still, Jon was hesitating. “Seriously. You fear dancing with me that much?”
“I don’t like looking stupid in general, but, yes, I am seriously worried you will discover something about me that will cause you to flee. Or, perhaps I will do something to start a fight, which then results in you fleeing,” Jon said.
“And you think not dancing or not looking good is that thing?” Loxy asked.
“Some people take dancing and appearance very seriously,” Jon said.
“And you think fight or flight are my only two options?” Loxy asked.
“What else is there?” Jon asked.
“Well, I am a Pokémon trainer, so I am not afraid of a fight, but I am also wise enough to know there are times when a person should retreat and regroup,” Loxy mused. “But there are lots of other options here.”
“Freeze?”
“How about love?” Loxy asked “True love can make it possible to endure anything, even someone stepping on your toes. True love sees beyond the thin veil of beauty that last only a moment in time. True love sees beyond age. True love just is because it’s not about self, it’s about other, and ensuring their needs are met.”
“And what if your own needs are diminished while serving others?” Jon asked.
“When considering your needs, you only have to ask, are you fighting, flighting, or loving,” Loxy said. “When I find myself in a place of love, I know that all my needs are met.”
“What if I am so use to fighting and running that it appears that I love fighting and running more than I love loving?” Jon asked.
“Wow, that’s a mouth full,” Loxy said sorting. “So, should we determine in the moment that you love fighting or running, then we will love fighting and running together.”
“I don’t want to fight you,” Jon said. “Or run from you.”
“I know you don’t,” Loxy said. “But it is in you and so when you think that I will fight you or fly from you that is more about you projecting what you think I will do than you allowing me to simply do what I want to do. Only time with me will prove to you that there is only one thing you might do to cause me to leave you.”
“What’s that?” Jon asked.
“You tell me or ask me to,” Loxy said.
“If you ever hear those words come out of my mouth, please evaluate my level of sanity,” Jon said.
“I promise,” Loxy said.
“Are you like a counselor?” Jon asked.
“I think everyone is simultaneously a counselor and a client,” Loxy said. “Everyone you meet comes with both a gift and a lesson. If you don’t learn the lesson, the gift was opportunity.”
“Feels like I have heard this before,” Jon said.
“Maybe. Truth is truth, no matter which Universe you find yourself in, and sometimes we have to hear it in multiple forms and venues before we can fully internalize it,” Loxy said.
A loud pop caused Jon to jump and he and Loxy turned to the source. A Cacturne had popped a balloon to scare some kids. The kids, and even some adults, scrambled away from the cactus like Pokémon. The Cacturne froze in place, and a partner put a new balloon out, resetting the trap to scare the next unsuspecting passerby’s.
“A Creeper!” Jon said.
“No, it’s just a Cacturne,” Loxy said, trying to ease him down out of ‘fight’ mode.
“Fine, but it still kind of creepy and I don’t like sudden, loud noises…” Jon said.
The Cacturne popped another balloon scaring the next group of folks. One kid cried, but mostly because its parents ran away like scared rabbits, leaving the child alone.
“Seriously?” Jon yelled after them.
“Kind of judgmental, don’t you think?” Jon asked.
“They just deserted their child!” Jon said.
Other kids and parents were laughing, an older brother came and got the crying kid because the parents were seriously not coming back. Jon frowned. Loxy hugged him, understanding once again, Jon was projecting. He had a very clear idea of an ideal parent, which was probably exaggeratedly strong due the fact he was parenting himself most of the time. Loxy led him away from the Cacturne, and they found a booth offering corn dogs. The vendor offered them food for free and they both took one. As they walked, the popping of balloons grew fainter, but Jon still turned to the source, frowning at it.
“Do you have hyperacusics?” Loxy asked.
“What’s that?” Jon asked.
“Hyper awareness of aural sensations,” Loxy said.
“I hear things louder than what most people experience and sound does tend to exhaust me,” Jon admitted. “Being around people exhausts me.”
“Ever been diagnosed with PTSD?” Loxy asked.
“I have been diagnosed with ADHD, is that close?” Jon asked.
“I have seen no evidence for that diagnosis,” Loxy said. “But sometimes trauma can masquerade as ADHD. One test is taking the meds for ADHD and noting if the symptoms get worse or the client becomes addicted to adrenalin type substance.”
“I love how smart you are,” Jon said.
They had come full circle and were back at the blue tent. “Shall we go dance?”
Again, Jon hesitated.
“What? Because the sound level? Because the people?” Loxy asked.
“Why do we have change clothes?” Jon asked.
“OMG, are you stalling? If you don’t want to go, just say so!” Loxy said.
“I want to go, I am just really scared you won’t like me afterwards, and I don’t dress very well, and I don’t know what clothes to pick, and there feels like a lot of pressure to perform, and well, I am really afraid of everything, which probably explain why I am so sensitive to noise and my environment, and even though I like most of the Pokémon I’ve met, you have to admit, some of them are just absolutely frightening, and everything is moving so fast in this world, I am finding it hard to keep up, and I am so not use to people hugging on me, much less wanting me, and I really liked the Librarian, and she’s the only real person because she turned me down, and I don’t know why I am sharing that with you, and all the Pokémon keep looking at me and which is kind of freaking me out, and well I am feeling overwhelmed, and did I already say that?” Jon said, not hiding his tears.
Loxy waited while he sorted feelings, standing tall, somewhat patient, but arms crossed like an adult watching a child. He finally sniffed, wiped his eyes on his sleeves.
“Done?” Loxy asked.
“Yeah, pretty much, thank you,” Jon said, taking a breath.
Loxy waited to be sure he didn’t have addendum for his rant, and only then did she hug him. She held him tight, patting his back.
“You don’t have to know how to dress. That’s what the fashion people are for. This is a Ball, after all, and people need to be appropriately dressed for a Ball, and most people seriously don’t have a clue how to dress for any occasion, and so you’re not alone in that. Not dancing, well, I believe you. You probably can’t dance. When I need a serious swing partner, I will find that person, but in the interim, I will still fill most of my dance time with you, even if it’s just standing in place, swaying to the music,” Loxy said.
“OMG,” Jon said. “I think I love you.”
“I know I love you,” Loxy said. “See you on the other side.”
Each person attending the ball was allowed to choose one Pokémon to attend with them. Jon chose Gardevoir. She and Jon emerged to the ball room; they were even formally announced, and Gardevoir curtseyed, gave a cursory glance around, and then turned to Jon asking for permission to mingle. Jon nodded, while he joined a party of men slash boys slash nerds hovering around the punch table. On stage was a full orchestra, ready to produce any music known to Pokémon kind. They were presently playing something popish. Two Roselia’s danced in front of their microphone, incredibly well-endowed for such petite little flowers, with frizzy flowing hair and palm-palm roses, while a Sudowoodo crooned between them. Apparently Sudowoodo and the Roselias were singing Sudowoodo and Roselias, kind of like a Talking Meow, only, they couldn’t speak to save their lives, but when they sang, they really sang. People and Pokémon danced on the floor. The song being performed sounded a lot like the B-52’s, but the song title was probably “Rock Clauncher.”
Someone near Jon dropped a glass of punch, as all of the boys turned to watch the woman crossing the dance floor. Their mouths fell open.
“OMG, she’s coming this way,” one said.
“I so wish I knew how to dance,” someone else said.
“Me, too,” another said.
“Don’t look in her eyes,” someone said.
Their eyes hit their shoes, or diverted, and they scattered, shuffling feet awkwardly, the geeks of high school prom, leaving Jon alone to face the woman. The woman was wearing a dress that seemed to cross boundaries of formal ball wear and ultra-modern. The lower half of the gown was white, and ballooned out, and a serendipitous spin would reveal ruby slippers and white hose, with little Pokémon balls patterned into them. The belt was alternating white and red, with glittery red, and the top part of the dress was red, and all in all, she looked like walking talking Poké ball. She was coming directly towards him, the most beautiful woman in the whole room, and she was almost on him as it clicked in his brain, “OMG, Loxy!”
“Breathe,” Loxy instructed.
Jon had to gasp to recover.
“You’re drooling,” Loxy said, wiping his chin with her handkerchief.
“You…” Jon stammered.
“Clean up pretty well, eh?” Loxy asked.
“OMG,” Jon said.
“I choose you, too,” Loxy said. “You look great, by the way.”
“Kind piraty,” Jon agreed, hands up. “I’m either a Deviant version of Han Solo, or perhaps the Man in Black. Except, I am not sure black is my color.”
“Oh, let me assure you. It’s so you. Much more you than that jacket you won’t let me burn,” Loxy said.
“Oh! I love my jacket,” Jon said.
“I know you do,” Loxy said.
“It reminds me of SG1, and it’s just a little oversized in the sleeves, so I can pretend like it belonged to Jack O’Neill, with two L’s, because I k