“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in a possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.” And so began one of the greatest pieces of English Literature of all time, namely Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. But as for as a boy in possession of no more money than he can earn through the pokémon battles from where the wind and international pokémon league takes him, this is not necessarily the case. A girlfriend, even, is hardly prized by trainers. All pokémon trainers, or rather most, are hermits; they live their quests alone. Furthermore, they are nomads; they have no place to belong. So to think of the very concept of a pokémon trainer whose company extends beyond his pokémon is to think of an incredibly secular character. No allowance can be made for the trainer’s inability to perform well without further guidance. All trainers begin in this way; in fact the trainers are they who have reigned IGNORAMUS and who have died IGNORABIMUS. They learn from their experiences, and the instincts they have inherited from their forefathers and ancestral species are their guidance. The major religions of the pokémon world insist that trainers unify only for competition. What good can be said of he who defies their judgment?

Oh by the way, have you got the hidden message? Ash is not a character of which we can be proud, only one that can be pitied. But it is that same pity that led Misty and Brock to commit similar atrocities- at least as far as was the typical opinion at the time. Actually it was not so long ago; indeed this story is more in the future than the past, although it may not be when you read this. Okay, so it’s all in the past. It is just about some arbitrary Valentine’s day. Now in case you didn’t know, Misty has had a few admirers in her time. That ll changed thanks to Ash, who persuaded her to let her self go. No one would challenge Ash’s right to her once she passed the 200-pound mark, and oh that was so long ago! In the old days before the adipose, Misty had needed suspenders to keep her jeans from falling down. Were she born in to a richer family, she would have solved this problem with custom made jeans; instead she was forced to just buy the smallest available in the shops. Even then, she was sure she would be wearing suspenders the rest of her life. But Ash changed that. The suspenders topped being necessary, and away they went. After that’s she zoomed up the dress sizes, both her waistline and her hip measurements driving on at a hundred miles an hour, her oesophagus rapidly evolving to save it self from the waterfall of food it was now expected to carry to a stomach that had been starved by years of (for want of a less chauvinistic word) female dieting. If you read a recent story of mine, there goes another Freudian slip, and I will assume you are familiar with the scenario with Misty. No I won’t.

Misty had once been the kind of girl who ate very little. In her hometown it was traditional for people to follow the examples set by the gym leader, of which in more recent decades there were now several, but still they were in general girls. Now, like many other women in the spotlight, they had chosen the path of (as Dawn French put it) entering the impossibly tiny-bottomed club. Even for me that is too graphic. However hen Misty became a pilgrim- and I suppose a nomad- with Ash, she began to use a lot more energy, walking many miles a day. That led to an increased appetite, and so you can understand how the gluttonous but metabolically hyper drive Ash brought her in to the phase of overdoing the greed. Whilst she had (before meeting him) consumed some 1200 calories per day, this went on to become 1500, and then later went in to the thousands. She was used to little and often, but later went on to lots and always.

Her appetite was insatiable as the sea’s. (It sounds Shakespearean, I know. Did you?) Whole piles of food disappeared in to her, as if swallowed by a black hole. Pounds of steak were masticated without deceleration or hesitation. Meat in general was doomed in her presence, doomed to disappear at lightning speed. As for those dishes that you don’t think are fit for vegetarians (actually none of it is open to debate), we ought to describe two separate sets: vegan-suitable and vegetarian-but-nowt-more-than-that. I will take the former set first.

If it was healthy, some would forget it. But as far as Misty was concerned, food was food. Salad was so soft it vanished like nothing. Fruit varied in how easy it was to masticate, but she could still swallow whole kilograms of fruit in minutes. Grains, whatever else vegans like, it just didn’t stand a chance. Cellulose, the one substance no other human has ever been able to digest (and that DOES include metal and glass), seemed to be beaten at last when she put her mind and teeth to it.

Chocolate of all varieties vanished like cold tea poured down the drain. Cheese was crushed in to oblivion, its softness (like that of vegetables) exploited by the ultimate digester; pizzas vanished in to the night-like darkness; eggs plunged in to all cavities great and expensive to feed; yoghurt, milk and all other dairy products were slurped up like nothing.

But her greatest ability- her forte- was with ice cream. A long time ago, when Misty’s waist needed suspenders to keep those interesting sea-green jeans up, an all you can eat buffet had appealed to Misty for the ice cream. An entire truck full of ice cream had arrived at the restaurant in question, and when she had asked for an umpteenth bowl, Ash had reminded her of the limited supply. You could tell the person who said there was plenty for “all” meant “most (all but one if that one stops eating)”. Misty loved every flavour of ice cream. Fifty gallons meant nothing to her; not if she was given ten minutes anyway.

Not only did she love eating, but also she discovered it was her greatest ability. Even her powers as a pokémon trainer were not as good. She was soon to realise her abilities, and most places had some eating contest or another (don’t ask me why!), so she liked to participate. She soon found that she never lost. In fact no one managed to stay in the contests long enough for her to satisfy her hunger. Some of the best eating champions in the world actually went to Johto, and she had met and defeated a good few; she certainly received a lot of challenges. Only the very best had not yet gone through the process that inevitably follows from meeting and challenging her. Only the very best had not yet met her, for some reason. But she felt confident she could stand up to them.

Little did she know she would get an opportunity …

Eating contests are not usually found in Japan- not if it is the case that there are no nearby sumo wrestlers anyway. But in America there are. That would usually not come in to this story. But the fact is that Japan has far too many police, as crime is virtually non-existent there; in the distopia that is America, however, it is a very different situation. One Officer Jenny decided she had had enough of a total lack of action on the Force, so she wished that she could go there. But she could never pluck up the courage to do this, partly because there are far too many guns. However, one day she received a long-distance telephone call- it is a good thing that emergency services are free phone- from a cousin in the USA, who wanted her to visit. She decided to go.

She, like all Japanese, was dwarfed by your average American. Yes, I am right, I haven’t forgotten sumo wrestlers. Her cousin reacted to this in a very peculiar and very American fashion.

“You’re like a stick insect!” commented her wobbly, tub-of-lard cousin. Jenny didn’t feel like responding to this. “Don’t worry, we’ll fatten you up- that’ll help you blend right in!”

If you have ever had a weight problem, you will know that gaining weight is as easy as thinking off-hand of an American President to whose head power went, and that losing weight is as difficult as discovering a potential candidate for an American President totally unlike this. Basically, Jenny put on weight very quickly. She soon learnt from the other police officers about doughnuts, doughnuts and more doughnuts (I’m not using THEIR spelling!), and that food is the major constituent of their life. Jenny quickly realised that the reason criminals got away with what they did was that they never actually got caught; they could run faster. That scene from The Men In Black revealed all.

“And I know I’ll never be HALF the man you are!” said Will Smith in quite a literal sense. (Please do not sue. No money is being made. Please do not sue, etc. …)

Okay, got over that hurdle!

The point is that Jenny’s weight quickly went off the charts of her old homeland and in to those of her new homeland. I have never been to the nation where, having been there, Rik Waller can honestly say he stood out only for his dress sense; but what I am aware of is the fact that they are, in ONE word:

FAT !!! !!! !!! !!!

Jenny realised that she should never have come. The police here in New York were hopeless, and she was fully aware that she had disgraced her family and heritage. She knew she couldn’t stay any longer. She returned home in a melancholic mood. For she knew that things would only get worse.

She was no longer in a place where her shape was considered acceptable in a non-athlete (weird isn’t it, but they have a different national sport). She could have been an athlete, if only she was willing to go through the sex change. Even if she was, she couldn’t afford it.

So she quickly slipped in to despair…

One of the biggest crooks in the business was undoubtedly Giovanni. He was the leader of the most powerful criminal empire in the world, the infamous Team Rocket. Secrecy was a sworn requirement for all members, but so was delivering the goods. That was something that some people just could not achieve. Team Rocket was a company that stole pokémon for Giovanni’s own ends. There were two employees of his, Jessie and James, with a (comparably) gifted sidekick in the form of a Meowth who could speak. Even he, however, was as thick as two short planks. Actually strictly speaking that wasn’t true. He had the success rate of such a person, but that was because he had very poor minds in his accomplices. Never had they successfully obtained a pokémon for Giovanni- except that one time they had brought in Togepi, but he had rejected their suggestion to use it as a paperweight. They needed a new method- and quick. At Team Rocket, you weren’t just fired; YOU KNEW TOO MUCH! Ask any member of the mafia what I am implying and then run for your life after the explanation.

It was fortunate that Meowth had recently received a library card in the post; they desperately needed more members. It was not addressed to people other than humans, but he had obtained himself a pseudonym or two. Actually there were several, and for catalogues he was Mr Brian McGregor. However as far as charities were concerned he definitely didn’t exist (I bet you know why!), and for writing he called himself Jackie Reedman. He was still waiting for a come back on that first book. It was a very moving tragedy: an unpopular girl who has never had any friends finally meets a girl of the same age (14) who, despite HER popularity, is interested in striking up a friendship. But this latter girl is worried that the happiness will end if and when her typically melancholic companion discovers that she has a terminal illness. Meowth discovered, however, that nowadays authors were looking for much worse books, preferably ones about a school with a stupid name of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Well, he would have discovered this were it not for his optimistic assumption that they would reply eventually. He would later be informed by the publisher that they were not interested, if only they bothered to tell people that they ought to get stuffed sincerely some prat. Pardon my French. Still, it’s probably better than my German.

Research led him to come up with a clever plan. If only they could control the police they would be unstoppable. Giovanni himself did this, although on a much larger scale. They were in fact way behind. But now Meowth was bringing them up to scratch. The first step was for James to seduce an Officer Jenny. This, however, was not that easy. There are some tasks that are easier done than said (yes, I do mean that). This is not one of them. You need an Officer Jenny who is actually incapable of finding love in others who are far better mates- both in the social and biological sense. But there was a factor in their favour; police don’t get out much, and therefore don’t GO out much.

It has to be said that few girls settle for less, and that meant James was very disappointed when he suddenly found that the rather unattractive Jenny that Meowth had forced him to date was the very one that was to be used to progress on to the next stage of the plan. What made her so unattractive I will not explain in detail here, for beauty is in the eyes of the beholder, and I do not think you wish to discover the beholding methods of James.

“But do we have to use HER?” whined James.

“For the last time James, yes we do!” commanded Meowth.

“But why?” wailed James.

“We need someone who will settle for YOU. This is the only officer Jenny in the entire Johto region who will do that, and believe me we have checked them all!”

James, as you can probably tell by now (although you may have been able to before) is not exactly a lady’s man. He is about as successful in that department as Gordon Brown is of getting in to number 10. Please say that you get that joke. I was hoping the average person in my audience was more intelligent, particularly in the political department, that George W Bush.

“The next step,” explained Meowth “is to make sure that this Jenny comes to depend upon you for support. Until we achieve that, you cannot draw her in to the third stage of the plan.”

That meant that James had to achieve the impossible: he needed someone to truly love and pine over him! YEAH, YEAH, I hear you cry. NO WAY IS THAT POSSIBLE. However he did manage to do it, but I think this I SHOULD detail. You see James had to read a lot of romances under the instruction of Meowth, as he himself did. The true measure of a leader is his willingness to carry out any command he gives himself should he be in a position to be commanded. Sorry to be chauvinistic and say “he” etc., but you know what I am trying to say.

In order to obtain this impossible position for James – namely having someone who would pine over him – it was crucial that he take her on a lot of dates. But they were on a tight budget, so it was only possible to choose the cheapest foods. In other words, junk food. She began to gain weight, and was certainly ballooning.

The next stage was to develop the personality links. The ugly Jenny that even James did not like often cried in his company, saying that she was worried about her weight gain. That is why Meowth had to teach James what women want. Well, obviously not a single male on Earth knows what they want, but he did know she wanted to be told by James it didn’t matter to him.

All right I’ll skip the boring bits.

This made Jenny keener to carry on with her overeating. She soon discovered that when she took the words “All You Can Eat” literally, she was kicked out of restaurants. She soon became famous far and wide, as one of the few people in Johto who could possibly outdo the now legendary Misty …

Meanwhile, Ash and his friends had finally reached Blackthorn City. This was the REAL capital of Johto. If before I said that was Goldenrod, I only mean5t in the industrial sense. The political centre was in Blackthorn. Connected by Routes 44 and 45 to New Bark town, which was just across the water from a path to Indigo Plateau of the Kanto-Johto-Houen republic, it was a prime centre for Johto to have its own capital independent from the main heart at the plateau. Just as the United Kingdom has a capital of each individual state (apparently they no longer count as countries), so Blackthorn and Viridian were the capitals of Johto and Kanto respectively. But Blackthorn had to have ways of recognising its position of the capital. It felt threatened by its plateau. The populace relied upon the dragon pokémon, seemingly of no use for anything. Bar their increased resistance to electric, fire, grass and water attacks, any other element they possess was really all they were good for.

That is why Blackthorn tended to make itself the host of things that were of international importance. For instance, in 1986 they hosted an international peace conference, where representatives from every nation in the UN assembled, including Luxembourg. For some reason no one actually recollects anything about the … (what adjective describes someone from Luxembourg?) politician. Then again, tell me ONE thing about Luxembourg, bar its size and geographic location. Well go on! There you go, I’m as famous as a celebrity from Luxembourg.

But international peace conferences don’t seem to happen that often, do they? Or do they? Sorry, I just hate the news. Anyway, even if that is the case, lightning never strikes in the same place twice; and peace conferences are just as destructive as lightning. No they are, honest. And even if lightning does, it’s too boring, like a repeat Brookside. Or a new episode for that matter.

The point is that Blackthorn City also went for fun events, whether they were international or not. It’s a good thing that they didn’t demand it to be international, because people just didn’t come. I mean be honest; imagine you are choosing the site for an international event. You do NOT choose a site of no importance whatsoever. Johto was an area of low-level pokémon and poor pokémon trainers. So it came as a complete shock when in February the international eating contest came to Blackthorn City. Hearing stories from far and wide, but still within the range defined by national calls (although Anne Robinson was mean enough to reverse the charges from America), the Johto government contacted Misty and asked her to attend. She happily accepted, wondering how her own eating abilities would compare to the champions of other nations.

Fortunately they had a lot of notice – several months, since Halloween. That is why Ash and Misty (and Brock) were able to arrive in time for the competition, which was on Valentine’s Day by coincidence. Ash liked the idea because on the way he could pick up other badges, and Blackthorn would be the place to get the last one. Of course the Government wanted to have a good chance of winning- the prize was a million American dollars or the equivalent for the Government, as well as just as much for the winner. They had not told her that, however, hoping to make a nice little embezzlement.

“Two million dollars. Just think what we can do with two million dollars.”

“I thought that went nowhere in politics.”

“Nowhere but my bank account!” And with that the prime minister let ought an evil cackle. He was stripped of his title the next day. They planned to spend it on a new television series aimed at making Johto inhabitants better trainers instead. It wouldn’t work, but no government project ever does.

They had recruited more than just one person, however. Eating champions from all over the nation were called in. One of them was James’ girlfriend. She was at first unsure about whether she was good enough. But (under Meowth’s guidance and orders) James told her she was. That is why she agreed. In total Johto had five representatives, and Kanto themselves also sent five. Most nations, being extremely poor and having starving members, never held eating contests (since there was not enough food), and so there were not really that many countries entering.

America sent fifty – one from each state.

The eating contest had to have preliminary eliminations- no nation was permitted more than five participants. Of course in the case of Johto, and in that of Kanto, that was all there were. To be truthful, each nation needed EXACTLY five entrants. Unfortunately, Johto and Kanto were part of the same nation. Members of the Houen and Orange leagues also sent five participants apiece. Each nation needed precisely five, so the four states would have to eliminate fifteen of these. That was upsetting, but what the heck.

To be more accurate, since Misty was actually from the Kanto league, you might question the figures quoted. Note however that Jenny had once come from Johto, but now was in a Kanto police force, namely that of Viridian City. America would probably have liked to have her, but the point I wish to make is that the numbers balance out. Four quintets were to be reduced to one. So there was an initiation competition between a score of individuals from the nation. I will describe the competition in terms of where they REALLY came from.

Kanto not only had Misty as a representative. There were also two other girls and two boys. The girls were identical twins, each weighing in at 400 lbs and alternating in how their weight and eating abilities compared. They competed against each other frequently, and there was only ever a steak or to in it. The two twins were in fact cousins of the Kimono sisters. They were called Sarah and Linda. Okay, so their parents were British, but they were born in Kanto! One of the boys was a hugely muscular adolescent of raging metabolism, able to crush rocks with his bare hands. The other was, in fact, Ash Ketchum.

“Finally, Misty, our appetites will be compared!”

“I’ve waited a long time for this!” replied Misty.

Indeed they would. If neither qualified they could at least see who went out first; if only one of them qualified the comparison was clear; if they both qualified the comparison could be made in the international contest.

The Jenny who was James’s highly inappropriate fiancée was not the only representative of Johto. Three men and a girl also hoped to represent their nation. The girl was Sakora, who although slim was a formidable opponent, especially (ironically) with ice cream. The three men all came from a German province; one was as stout as a barge, one was as tall as a storey, and the last German-Japanese was a combination of both, and a qualified Sumo wrestler. All wore extremely shoddy jumpers.

The Houen league sent its Sumo league, which had five members. They all looked more or less the same. The Orange league favoured women for this task, partly because coincidentally all of the best five eaters in the Orange islands were female. They varied in age from fifteen to fifty; but all of them could eat a horse (literally).

The nation of Japan was divided into four pokémon leagues, which have already been named. Their political system had a minister of unification for diplomatic purposes, and they were governed by a fifth minister of unification, the prime diplomacy minister. The prime minister could come from any of the lands, but excluding him each always had exactly one. They were only constitutional, but it was their duty to oversee such issues as this. At this time the prime diplomacy minister was from Johto, and he and his not-so-prime minister had to supervise the task. Now when I say “supervise” I do not simply mean that they lazed around watching. I mean they had to do some work. They entered the room in which twenty people that varied greatly in their extents of corpulence and steatopygia. They did not get into office through prejudice, and there would not stay there after a display of it, and so they were under compulsion to embrace this audience. The not-so-prime minister took a stance in front of them, on a box top that most present could easily collapse.

“This competition will consist of several rounds. In each round those of you still able to continue in to that round will be served a course. We will continue until precisely five remain, and they will be the members of this nation to go to the international finals. The first course will be a “starter”, the next a dish of meat, and the third a dessert. They will occur in this order repeatedly until the process is complete. They will start oversized and grow with each cycle. When only five remain, we will stop; we will go no further.”

It was about to begin …

“In this corner, weighing in at…” That ends with the full name and a nickname, as you probably know. I will just summarise with the nickname of Misty, who was the heaviest competitor by far.

“In this corner, weighing in at 697 lbs, Misty “Iron-Stomach” …” For legal reasons, I can’t expose a gym leader’s surname. Sorry.

The first dish seemed to be particularly routine even by the standards of the average human, namely a bowlful of soup. There was a whole plate of garlic bread that needed to be eaten as well as this, but it was still nothing “oversized”. Governments were known to lie however. Following that was an equally disappointing steak, weighing in at a mere 36 ounces. Next was a triple-chocolate sundae, but it was only a foot high and even narrower than that. All the contestants began to taste bitter resentment. The next starter was a prawn salad, but it was quite a large salad, dwarfing the sundae that gone before it. Even so, no one was going anywhere for some time. The next dish was a whole fish, and then a substantial jelly came into view. There was still no action taking place, but since the competitors were fast eaters as well as bottomless pits, this annoying period was brief. By the time the first six three-coursers were finished, the starters were the size of portable televisions, the meat courses were bedroom-television in size and the desserts (which were repetitively suitable for the lactose-intolerant) were somewhere between starter and main meal. Only from this stage onwards was it possible to detect the effects of fullness amongst some of the least promising individuals.

The Sumo wrestlers of Houen gained a lot of weight through the Japanese technique haragei, which means “soul in the stomach”, and so they went out surprisingly early. All that is- except one. One gave up after the seventh starter, another after the seventh meat dish (an entire fried chicken whom you would eJabedin had an Omnibus for its father), and whilst one caved in half way through the seventh dessert (five pounds of bananas all in hot custard), the penultimate survivor had the resilience to just about finish it. Once the eighth starter rolled into view, the Jotunn from Kanto knew he might as well just quit now. He could not possibly finish it, and so resigned. He vomited soon afterwards, and it became clear that he was not fit for the finals. His place was in the World’s Strongest Man contest. I’m not sure which of the two is less embarrassing.

There were now fifteen people left to test to their limits. Ten more eliminations were to follow. Having seen five eliminations in such a short time period, some competitors began to suspect that a struggle was in store. It was noticed that all the failures so far were male. The egos of those from the Orange league swelled in a way that rivalled the swelling of their stomachs, which by now had many gallons of food dissolved in hydrochloric acid. But there were still three half-Germans in shoddy jumpers, a Sumo wrestler, five Orange League females aged fifteen to fifty, two twins with British parents, a Jenny, Sakora, Misty and Ash to get off the shelf. That was not going to be easy. What did make it easier, however, was that, by the time the tenth dessert had been finished, all the Germans were gone, and one girl from the Orange League. Two Germans, followed by said girl and the third German simultaneously (each at the end of the tenth dessert), came out of the competition. That left only eleven. More people had already left than needed to leave now. The tenth dessert had been ice cream, and it took a gallon or two for Misty (and Sakora) before the two simultaneous resignations. That was the point at which the next starter came into view.

It seemed that the organisers had run out of ideas, because after ten starters, main courses and desserts, the menu started over again; although they were bigger than before they were undoubtedly the same foods, and only ten varieties of each course would occur. This was not disappointing, only a shame.

Ash, Misty, Sakora, Jenny and the sumo wrestler all seemed unstoppable, but so did the four girls from the orange league, as well as the two half-British twins. The twins went next, just before the twentieth starter. They both resigned at the end of the nineteenth dessert, identical in performance and supposedly identical in ability. By now the average human would be incapable of finishing half of any of the courses. None of the girls from the Orange league seemed to be slowing down, although one was becoming heavily drenched in sweat and perhaps coming to the end of her abilities in say- oh, six or seven dessert’s time. That would be the mountain of profiteroles, or a gateau of wedding-cake proportions. It turned out to be the latter. By this time the friends seemed to be passing glances to one another. Ash and Misty had looks of fatigue through the long-windedness of this titanic event. There was also a sense of romance to the situation. Yet Sakora, though friends of theirs, had a mechanic look on her face. She had lost all humanity; she was obsessed with only one task, and that was eating on and on. The sumo had a very distant _expression, indicative of his loneliness after his group had disintegrated in what seemed the ancient past. Three of the girls from the Orange League were obviously concerned by the way that they had underestimated the competition, but their ringleader, a girl who had never been known to have all she could eat, or even have her hunger proved satiable, communicated to them a message presumably meant to warn them not to be put off. Jenny had never had confidence in herself, despite support from others, and now her self-esteem was inflated. She persisted just like everyone else.

Over the course of many further dishes, the three orange league girls who even if unconquerable in their gastronomic abilities were satiable in their gastronomic desires, dropped out. By now thirty-nine desserts had gone. The last girl showed no signs of deterioration. The fiftieth dessert was as large as a small chest of drawers. Gallon after gallon of ice cream poured into the mouths of the six remaining contestants. They all thought they had finished that course, when it was announced that ice cream was al that remained. Finally, after what must have been about a hundred gallons, the last elimination occurred: out went the last girl from the Orange League.

Fate works in mysterious ways when it wants to, and of course there are always occasions when fate is just dying to work in an unusual way. Don’t we all wish we didn’t know how Team Rocket is always doomed to failure? Of course we do. The fact of the matter is that were Team Rocket to try any idea, no matter how clever it was, they would fail in all their attempts. You know how it works. If they have a scam, it gets discovered. There is just no doubt about it. It is an objective fact IN THE UNIVERSE that they might as well just give up, pack up and go home. Still, they have a tendency to try anyway. The universe works in mysterious ways.

The point I am trying to get at is that Ash, Misty and Brock are completely incapable of missing a Team Rocket trick. Or at least that is what we tend to hold as one of our scientific doctrines, based on inductive empirical evidence. This theory would be falsified on this one occasion, where they planned to hit the law itself thick and fast – and hard, right where it hurts most – were it not for the fact that they learned that the Officer Jenny who had qualified for the International Competition was currently seeing a fiancé (or so she thought). I mentioned earlier in the story the Officer Jenny who dated James, and now I can reveal the connection between these two storylines: they are the same officers, the boyfriends are both James, and James was repulsed by the obesity that Jenny already had and which was aggravated by his taking her to restaurants.

They saw Jenny returning from a date once, as a male of some age or another who had green hair (they had learnt by now to use disguises, such as hair dye) returned her to her dormitory, which was provided by the money-greedy government.

“Isn’t that sweet, Ash?” said Misty, posing one of those questions that no one ever finds out whether or not it was intended to be rhetoric.

“Yeah,” replied Ash, obviously assuming as one of his doctrines that the question was not rhetoric. Misty was, if believing otherwise, prepared to overlook it. By the time that Ash and Misty had finished discussing how wonderful it is that they are not the only pair in the world with a huge difference in weight of the two members of the relationship, Brock had become so bored that he had stealthily left their company and taken a stroll. He happened to see the green-haired individual turn a corner into the wood, and was just preparing to go in the opposite direction away from the wood, when –

“But Meowth, this is terribly expensive. When are we going to move onto the next phase where we can commit crimes under her protection and it pays off for us?”

“When this relationship becomes permanent!”

“What do you call what we’re up to now?”

“I call that almost there, but not quite. If she loses in this contest next week, which with all the American competition is virtually certain, you must console her. Otherwise everything we’ve been doing for months will have been wrecked. THEN you can whine about a lack of progress. In the unlikely event of her success, congratulation is in order. Depending upon how her achievement compares to that of the average contestant, you should combine the two in a suitable ratio … and point out how well she did to get this far!”

“Quite, both of you!” came the voice of an angry mare.

“Listen, I’m da boss here!” said Meowth, his accent shining through all attempts to hide it. An argument rose out and the noise became deafening, words bumping into each other in a mad pile-on collision. Brock legged it. Ash and Misty, when he told them about it, wee highly confused. They consulted Jenny about it.

“… And Team Rocket want you just so that they can get away with illegal profiting methods!” concluded Brock. He added, “I’d never ask you to do that, Jenny! Maybe we should pursue a relationship - ”

I think we are familiar with the fact that ear yanking is very difficult to describe.

“I think that ship will just sink like the Mary Rose!” said Misty, as she dragged away a disgruntled Brock.

The next time Jenny met him (James), she managed to wheedle (scratch that h!) an explanation out of him. Maybe he did love her after all; he was truthful in the end. She dumped him anyway.

“Nice going, Jimmy!” The person who said that could only be identified by their New-York accent.

The next day passed, as did several others, in which misty could not contain how excited she was about the contest. It finally came, and people from many nations assembled in Blackthorn City Gym. The conditions were written down in many languages. Each team was given a pamphlet to read between them. Just to give you an idea of what the English version (read by the Americans) said, it was something about speed. For people of this stomach-size, it was just too difficult to make it all-you-can-eat. Instead, it was timed. Who could eat the most steak in ten minutes? After that eliminated three out of every five, who could eat the most fish? And with only one champion of each nation, which national champion would be the best with … ice cream!

“I’m EXCELLENT with speedy eating!” said Sakora. Misty wasn’t too pleased. “If I get through to the ice cream round, I’ll wipe the floor with them! I’ll be international champion, I bet!” said Sakora. She was starting to upset her friend.

Misty knew that speed was not something she practised; but she would do her best anyway. The starting gun fired. The sumo was also not very used to speed; nor was Ash. After the first minute, Misty had finished well over a pound of meat. The ten minutes came to an end, twenty pounds of meat squashed up in Misty’s roaring belly. This happened to tie with Sakora. But as for Ash, Jenny and the rikishi (sumo wrestler), they wee straight out.

Ten minutes more went by, this time with fish eating under surveillance. It was a very close call, Misty trying desperately to keep up, and just about succeeding. Eventually the young Sakora suffered a catastrophe; a loose tooth fell out. She fell behind. A tragedy, yes, but what the heck.

Misty could swallow a whole gallon of ice cream in mere seconds. Yet she knew that it would be silly to think she could be international master. Yet no one in her sight seemed to be anywhere near her current position. The final whistle went. She had gobbled up almost a hundred gallons. She was sure she had won, but it turned out that the American representative had done much better, not to mention many other people who she hadn’t seen at her end of the table. Her spirit was shattered. She couldn’t even honestly claim the national title; that tooth was a stroke of luck. She knew it would be a long time before she was as good as the true champion, but in any case it was later decided that the competition was never really official anyway; after all, had ANY of the government properly researched potential people? For this and many other reasons, the Guinness Book of Records wanted nothing to do with it.

Nevertheless, that day (February 14th) Ash and Misty had a good deal to celebrate; they were a lot closer than a year ago that day. Brock, on the other hand, was miserable. He was turned down by someone who wasn’t in a position to choose, and who had been used to criminals as dates. What does that say about him?