If you only go on a journey for the destination, then everything you’ll get from this story is in the title. If you’re out for adventure, then come along for I have a story.
It was a dull silver night, and I was being beautiful around my apartment when adventure called. I said to adventure “How did you get this number?” but adventure didn’t reply because it was an idiom. Suddenly, Pokemon Go was open on my phone with no provocation other than me downloading the app, opening it, and setting up a profile. Professor Willow’s chiseled jawline told me to run from home in search of monsters. I had just graduated so I was still accustomed to obeying when a professor commands me. Still an utterly gorgeous human being, I ran out into the night.
It was 3 in the morning so only me, the homeless, and a coughing flock of filthy birds were out and about. I avoided making eye contact with a hobo by my dumpster because I didn’t want to get into a Pokemon battle so soon into my journey. His name was Duke von Trashmoot. He’d had that name as long as I’d known him because I named him that when we met.
Away, down route Cottage Avenue I went. At the next street, I was accosted by a Pidgey. Backlit by the dull yellow light of a coin operated laundromat we battled. The moonlight caught the beast’s eyes and it shrieked vulgarities at me, or it was just making bird sounds. We’ll never know because I threw a “Nintendo Brand Pokemon Ball” at it. To my dismay, the ball opened and absorbed the beast instead of striking it dead. I immediately released the monster back into the digital wild because I didn’t want it getting into my text messages while it lived in my phone. Feeling spent and out of breath, I journeyed on away from the yolk spotlight of the laundromat.
I found myself next on the roof of a German castle. I asked myself “How did I get here,” then I remembered finding myself and assumed I had been lost.
Back in my home city 28 minutes later, I was in a park in pursuit of a Pikachu. I was hot on its tail like I wanted it to be a Charmander when it jumped into an idling 2017 Jeep Cherokee which gets up to 22 mpg in the city and 31 on the highway with an MSRP rating of $23,595. The Pikachu pulled on a pair of sunglasses (even though it was nighttime!) and blue velvet gloves (even though it doesn’t have fingers!) and sped away in a cloud of burned rubber. I was shocked, paralyzed, the Jeep was super effective, and in 21 miles that Pikachu would probably only have burned through one gallon of gas (the fuel efficiency!)
Next I was in a tree trying to leaf my troubles behind when I realized what a fool I was. It was a pine tree, well known for its most identifying feature, the “pine needle” which is not a leaf. It was from the tree of my coniferous folly that I witnessed the first looming forms gathering in the park around me. Lit by a ghostly aura they aimlessly stumbled. Faintly, the sussura of whispers battered my suspicions, and I knew quite suddenly that I was seeing a cult meeting. The ghastly wanderers all appeared youthful, between the ages of 20 and older than that but not much older. My mind raced; it was a 5k, and it made good time. Out of breath from racing, my mind told me to act. In a tree, above a park, looking down upon the ethereal cultists, I knew one thing: I wasn’t an actor. I wrapped my arms around a branch and tried to look like a large pine cone. I was committed to being the very best pine cone the world had ever seen, but that was the problem: the world had seen me.
One of the cultists was under my tree and said “Hey,” and I said “Hi” and they said “Are there any up there?” “and I asked the faintly glowing creature of the night what they meant, and it said “Pokemon,” and that’s when I realized these weren’t cultists. They were nerds, and they weren’t glowing; they just had their phones shoved dangerously close to their faces. I said “there are no pokemon in this tree. It is a pokemon-less tree with needles,” and I climbed down. Then we talked about how cool Dragonite is.