Pokemen

 

Greetings!

 

Orbax here!

 

Refusing to be defeated only one day into this writing exercise I've decided to start tap-tap-tapping the keys mere minutes before my bedtime on this physically and emotionally exhausting day. Much of today's events will be revealed in future blog entries but for now, suffice to say, three weeks ago I entered into a furniture delivery adventure which has officially become a saga.

 

Today has had little to contribute in terms of comedic exposition in a Monster's life so, in the attempt to keep our comedy timeless, I'm reduced to regaling you with my latest Pokemon Go story.

 

At the end of my new street (we have recently moved ie. the furniture saga) is a Poke-gym. Probably only within 500 metres of my new home. Like any enterprising 39 year old Poke-trainer I occasionally defy the logic of my pre-subscribed data plan and meander my iPhone 6s (yes, I'm doing very well) down the street to lay waste to what I assume are the neighbourhood children's (and more likely the neighbourhood childrens father's) Pokemon.

 

Today was a very achievable victory based on the stats I had at my disposal, so I quickly leaped into my attack. Now, like any creepy sketch bag I was wearing my usual uniform of aviator sunglasses, hoodie (pulled up), cargo camo shorts and bluetooth earbuds.

 

Now as I began to, as I call it, 'Lay Waste' to the gym a gentleman came around the corner with his children. Through the buzzing of my Weepinbell's Seed Bomb (remember what I was saying about timeless comedy?) I could hear the small boy-child say to presumably (and hopefully) his father "That man's playing Pokemon!". The 'father' dissuaded the child from bothering your hero on his attempt to defeat his imagined oppressors (an endeavour he engages in daily and anywhere from his attempts to get coffee to his rage against parking assignments), yet encouraged the child to also attack the gym.

 

Well.

 

We won, dear reader.

 

The family went their way and I mine. As it turned out, this was in the same direction. Having tried to spend the last few years understanding human emotions and attempting to learn what people call 'empathy', I felt I had snubbed this child. I mean... we were a team. We had defeated the evil of a potentially superior imaginary enemy. We were not simply Pokemon in that moment, indeed we had become PokeMEN.

 

I noticed that my presumed compatriots had stopped at their home and were standing on the lawn and as I passed I felt I should show some sign of positive recognition.

 

I attempted what I considered a smile, followed by a nod.

 

 

 

I have since been informed that a middle-aged gentleman in cargo shorts, a hoodie, aviators and beard might come off as weird nodding to a child.

 

 

 

But we won that goddamn gym.

 

 

 

Frosh Week dates announced in the shows section. See you soon campuses!