Over the Pokegear--Pokemon Drabble

Brrriiing! Brrriiiiinnnng! BBBRRRIIIINNNGGG!

I swear the stupid thing is trying to cuss at me, I thought to myself bitterly as I fished my Pokégear out of my bag and answered it. “Hello? Lyra here.”

“Lyra?” Elm’s voice reached me from the speaker, loud and clear. I bit back a retort that, yes, of course it was me, ‘cause I had just said so. “How are you?”

“I’m fine. Great, in fact,” I was eager to inform him. “You won’t believe what battle I just—”

“I called because something weird is happening with the radio broadcasts,” Elm continued, talking right over me. I bit back a growl. Why was it that nobody ever listened to me over the phone? I never got a word in edgewise with these people! However, the word radio caught my attention immediately, getting me thinking about those idiotic Team Rocket nitwits I’d crushed yesterday evening. So I momentarily swallowed my pride and listened to Elm.

“They were talking about Team Rocket.”

“I figured as much,” I muttered over the phone line. “I ran into one of their main hideouts yesterday and flushed them ou—”

“Lyra, do you know anything about it?”

I clenched my teeth and spoke through them. “I. Just. Freakin. Said—”

“Maybe Team Rocket has returned. No, that just can’t be true.”

“Honestly, Prof., why do you even bother calling me when you won’t liste—”

“Sorry to bug you. Take care!” Click……

I stood there in front of the pokécenter, a blank look on my face as I slowly processed what had just happened. Had that shallow-minded jerk just hung up on me?! Oh, no he didn’t! I removed the pokégear from my ear and stared at it for a moment, blinking in confusion at the scrolling words: LINE DISCONNECTED.

And so, I proceeded to do what anyone else would have done: I screamed at the device at the top of my lungs. “YOU SON OF A TURTLE! I’M GONNA….I’M GONNA….TRY THAT AGAIN, YOU FILTHY SEVEN, AND I SWEAR I’LL GO TO YOUR LAB AND BURN YOUR POKEGEAR TO A PILE OF SOOT WITH MY CHARIZARD!!! YA HEAR THAT, YOU ABSENT-MINDED FREAK??? YA HEAR?!”

It was quite unfortunate that at that very moment an old man was taking a morning walk through the small town, and at the sound of my shouts he halted and stared disapprovingly. I held his gaze, my mouth hanging open, pokégear in hand, dawning horror setting in to replace my anger. Moving swifter than I’d ever thought possible, I jammed the pokégear back into my bag and smiled sheepishly at the man, offering a half wave of casual greeting. He simply shook his head and muttered under his breath before continuing along, and I thought I caught the words teenagers and language. Baffled, I slunk into the safety of the pokécenter, mumbling to myself that I was fairly certain I hadn’t used any swear words or anything…