by Corey Miller
My adopted daughter Meghan’s starting six are all Magikarps. They’re small red fish that only know the move Splash which does nothing but get their opponent wet, causing zero damage. She caught them when I took her fishing in the Lake of Rage with an old rod.
Meghan stays home and swims in our in-ground pool with her Magikarp.
“Why don’t you use some rare candies to level up one of your Magikarp so it’ll learn a new move? One that actually does damage. That way you can catch new Pokémon and begin your journey.” Rare candies automatically level up a Pokémon instead of needing to earn experience in a battle. It’s the easiest way to get become stronger.
“Magikarp’s my favorite! I hope he never evolves!”
Magikarp evolves into one of the world’s toughest Pokémon, but it’s the most challenging Pokémon to train to that point. I don’t admire any trainer attempting it like I had to, when I was a young lad searching tall grass for battles.
My husband, Meghan’s second father, is James, formerly of Team Rocket. We met after he retired from stealing Pokémon and after I became the best, like no one ever was. I’ve seen every Pokémon known to exist, filling my Pokédex and raising them all to level 99 where Pokémon peak and cease growth. James wears different outfits around the house and pretends to be someone else. He plays dress up and reminisces about the good ol’ days working for Team Rocket, an organization that steals Pokémon to profit off of. He always talks of “The Boss” as someone he eagerly tried to please. I doubt he’s ever stolen before. But I let him ruminate this persona.
James is wearing a mermaid disguise with fake blow-up breasts, saying I need to take it easy on Meghan, that not everyone wants to be a master. “But she won’t even be able to win a match!” I point out. “You don’t gain experience from losing a battle!”
“Not everything is about winning” he answers. “I’ve never won a match and look at me!” His boobs jiggle as he hops his mermaid flipper to the pool to swim laps with the Magikarp.
At nighttime, I sneak rare candies to one of her Magikarp, the one that has a look in its eyes of triumph. Eyes that say “Help Me.”
Hopefully it’ll get to a level where it learns Tackle. That way it stands a chance.
Meghan and I run errands in the morning. On our way into Lavender Town, I battle everyone we meet along the way, anyone who locks eyes with me. The fifteen minute walk takes four hours. Each Lass and Jr. Trainer I see gets pulverized by my elite squad of Pokémon. Meghan has to study each battle. She must be envious.
My starting six:
- Charizard Lv. 99
- Dragonite Lv. 99
- Nidoking Lv. 99
- Breloom Lv. 99
- Poliwrath Lv. 99
- Alakazam Lv. 99
I don’t carry potions or revives with me anymore because it would be added weight. I have no balls either. Pokéballs are used for capturing the monsters and making them fight each other for your fame as a trainer. Why bother when I have them all? There’s not much left to do besides help raise the next up and coming star.
In town, we buy groceries. Mainly power bars for my training. I purchase some rare candies and give a handful to Meghan. “Daaaaad, I don’t want to use enhancement candies.”
Back at home, James has his ballerina outfit. On the sectional couch is another ballerina dress he must have purchased for Meghan to wear. He wants Meghan to become a ballerina when she grows up, as if living as a voyeur will lessen his regrets in life.
“I thought we talked about this,” I say through gritted teeth. “If I can’t force my will upon her, you can’t either.
“Don’t know what you could possibly be talking about,” he says in a sing-song voice as he pliés and sauters away.
I go to the garage to work on building a shelf to display my gym badges. I feel the rare candies still in my pocket. I know that they’re only for Pokémon, but maybe…
One slips into my mouth. It tastes like turmeric and beets on my tongue. Then I sink my bite into it’s outer shell, releasing a euphoric raspberry. My eyes grow as wide as a concert subwoofer, amplifying my testosterone. I feel like I could build a mansion by myself tonight. I feel like I could uproot a willow tree and plane it for studs and build a house. No — a gym! A gym to live in and work out in and beat anyone who defies me!
I stay up all night pacing and flexing and planning and hammering.
“Where have you been?” James asks me. It must be morning. I smashed my phone and threw the clock away like a frisbee, but I know this because James is wearing his Geisha girl disguise. “I woke up worried.” He sees the building materials scattered throughout the detached garage and his face grows more concerned.
“I’m building a gym. I’m going to lead it and have trainers come to me and challenge me. Meghan will see why being the best matters.” I screw planks together with my impact driver, enough studs to frame a wall. I move it outside to the concrete pad I laid last night and bolt the frame. James watches in disbelief as I build and build all day. Our back yard becomes a temple for me to wait for trainers’ asses to kick.
I crush the rare candies and snort them through a straw off my table saw. I inhale it like sawdust. It keeps me awake and pumped and leveling up.
“What’s Daddy doing?” Meghan asks James. He’s trying to hold one of her Magikarp but it slips through her hands like a slimy bar of soap. It hits the ground hard, like being attacked in a battle. Then it starts to glow white. It’s white reflection grows bigger and bigger until it appears as its evolved form — Gyarados. It’s a giant blue flying sea serpent with a temper.
“What the hell is this?” James asks. I watch his face figure it out, unfolding my origami of betrayal.
The Gyarados shoots a Hyper Beam at my gym and explodes the frames and concrete foundation.
My hands reach for my Pokéballs to battle Meghan properly. But none of them are on my belt. “Where are my balls?”
“You’ve gone too far this time,” James says. He rips his disguise off to reveal his old Team Rocket uniform — a big ‘R’ on the front. Him and Meghan climb onto Gyarados and I see he has my collection of Pokémon. “I’m going back to work for Team Rocket. And this time I have something big to give The Boss.” He gives a magical laugh, one he’s been preparing to give his whole acting career.
The three of them fly over my head, over my house, over the trees, over Lavender Town.
I eat another rare candy. They must have known I was getting bored. Known I was needing a challenge. Needing a new monster to catch.
Corey Miller’s writing has appeared in Booth, Pithead Chapel, Atticus Review, Hobart, X-R-A-Y, and elsewhere. He has been awarded the 2023 Literary Cleveland Breakthrough Residency and was a Kenyon Review Writers Workshop attendee. He reads for TriQuarterly. When Corey isn’t brewing beer for a living in Cleveland, he likes to take the dogs for adventures. Follow him on Twitter @IronBrewer or at CoreyMillerWrites.com.
