Hark! What is that over the horizon?! 'Tis Flint! And he brings with him more fun! What? More fun? I have enough fun on my plate for a week, you say? Well, lump it, you jerk! Here comes more!
- Created By Flint
A Game of Cards
I was cleaning out some of my old stuff from my closet today, with the intent of finding some things to sell at a yard sale. I've got way too much junk in there, and some jerks can be conned into taking it off my hands. I sifted through all the dusty old clutter, and found things I had not seen in years. Ah, the memories! My old pair of steel-toe Doc Martins! Why did I ever think giant Sora-esque shoes made me look cool? The tried-and-true trenchcoat, complete with silly iron-on patches. I must have looked like the coolest flasher in town!
As I waded through memories I'd rather not dwell on, I found a small red binder in the back of the closet. It was completely covered in dust. That should have been the first sign to stay away. I was drawn to it, however. I grabbed it, and slowly lifted it off the ground. Mounds of dirt and dust fell off its sides like an avalanche. I shook it a bit, to get some of the dirt off, then opened it cautiously.
Pokemon cards.
Why did it have to be Pokemon cards?
I looked through the pages of cards held in place by little plastic card holders. All of them were still in perfect condition. I began to get slightly choked up as I saw old friends again. There was Alakazam, with the rip on the right edge. How's the kids, Ally? The ridiculous "1st Edition" Machamp, at one time the Alpha and Omega of my collection, was now a shell of his former self, the empty grin crossing his face covering the anguish he surely felt when he was replaced by the Three Kings. The holofoil Dugtrio, the Japanese Pinsir, ol' Aerodactyl, they were all here. As I flipped through the pages, I came to a page that glowed red like fire.
The three of them stared into my soul. Remember us, Flint?
I remember you.
Remember the joy we brought you?
No... no, I don't... you brought me nothing but pain!
LIAR! You loved us... You still do!
Three holofoil Charizard cards stared at me, each glistening in the light like mini pyres in the darkest reaches of my psyche. They analyzed the man that now stood before them; this was no longer the pudgy boy they had policed to their will those many years ago. They had no power over me. They did, however, hold a powerful weapon against me; memories of my days as a failed card trader! They unlocked those horrid memories that I had so hard tried to repress. I was quickly thrust back in time, to a nightmare realm that Doc Brown surely intended no time traveler to explore.
I remembered those days, leading up to the biggest trade of my life, and the trade that would take me out of the game for good; the Fourth Charizard foil. How I came across four Charizards by simply opening booster packs, I'll never know. My brother bought just as many boosters as I did, and he never found a Charizard, foil or no, in any pack. He did, however, find two Blastoises in his career, and graciously decided to give me one with no trade. Today, that card rests near my computer monitor, to remind me of his generosity. The generosity I never possessed when it came to Pokemon cards.
I remember the days leading up to the trade of the Fourth Charizard. I had just gotten a bad trade from my own cousin. A non-foil Venusaur and a Professor Oak trainer for a Gengar, a card I had never possessed. I took it home, noticing it looked slightly different from the rest of my cards. I thought nothing of it, until I examined it closer in my room. I held it up to the sun. It was see-through! The damn card was a fake! I had been cheated out of a rare trainer and a Venusaur by my own cousin! I was pissed, probably more angry than I should have been.
I was about to go down to my cousin's house to get my cards back and give him a piece of my mind, when the phone rang. I answered it. It was a friend of mine, who, for the sake of anonymity, I'll call "Waffle".
"Dude, have you heard of the Neos?" Waffle asked me.
"Yeah. What, do you think I'm stupid? Everyone's heard of Neos, numbnuts. They haven't been released yet"
"I just got two Neos from a Japanese booster. Both foils." Waffle blurted out.
"Two from Japan?! What do you want for 'em?!"
"You know what I want!"
I did know what he wanted. I didn't know if I was willing to part with them. I opened the pages of the small red binder, to consult the Four Kings.
Do you think it wise to trade us for two cards who's value you do not even know?
Dude, these things are from Japan! No one's got 'em yet! No one's even heard of 'em yet! These could be the jewels of my collection!
COULD be. Could be... What if they're not? Then you're out one of us. Are you willing to part with one of us, Flint?
I hesitated. Five minutes deciding felt like a year. I took out the Charizard on the bottom left slot of the page, wrapped it carefully in a small white napkin, and placed it in my backpack. I would have those Neos. My collection would have closure. The world would applaud me.
That next day was the longest day of my life. As I entered the halls of my local high school looking for Waffle, another acquaintance met me halfway. We shall call this man "Juice". Juice was a collector like me, although most considered him small time. He was a short kid, with spiky hair and wild eyes. Juice approached me in his usual spastic gait. As I looked him in the eyes, I knew he had found out about the Charizard in my backpack.
"Got somethin' for me?" Juice asked loudly.
"What are you talking about?" I asked.
"Charizard. You have him. I know." Juice said with a smile.
I froze. I was genuinely afraid of what Juice's next action would be. Juice was small, boney, and rather annoying, but he was not a man to be trifled with. This kid broke the glass casing on a lunchroom vending machine when it wouldn't give him his Kit-Kat bar, for God's sake!
In as fluid a motion as I've ever seen, Juice swung his backpack from over his shoulder onto his chest, thrust his arm inside, and produced a black binder, containing more foils than I'd ever seen. "Take your pick, man. Any three o' these for Charizard."
It was a generous offer. Only a fool would pass it up. But I was not a backstabber. Waffle wanted Charizard, and would trade me two cards Juice could never possess. Me and Waffle were tight, and I sure had Hell trusted Waffle more than I trusted Juice.
"Sorry, Juice. I told Waffle I'd trade him my Charizard."
Juice looked me over with a scowl. He shrugged, and went on his way, clutching his black binder to his chest. I mulled over Juice's offer as I approached the classroom. Three foils. Juice may have been unpredictable, but he was an honest collector. All those cards were real. And he was willing to part with ANY three. Waffle offered up two, whose values were untested.
I took my seat in class, next to Waffle. We did the obligatory Respek Knuckles. From there, it was all business.
"I got him in my backpack," I said.
"Alright. I got my cards in my locker. We'll trade at lunch," Waffle answered.
I shook my head in agreement. As I pulled out my notebook, I noticed Waffle was giving me a distressed glare. I had to know why.
"What's up, man?" I asked.
"...Did Juice talk to you?"
"Yeah, in the hall a few minutes ago. He wants to trade any three foils from his collection. I'm not gonna, dude. I want those Neos."
Waffle smiled, relieved. Business did not come before our friendship, and this moment proved that. We both dropped the subject, and prepared for class.
As I took the books from my next class out of my locker, I was caught off guard by a determined Juice. He stood in back of me, his head twitching slightly with excitement. A wild grin crossed his face.
"Okay, man. I don't know what the Hell Waffle's offerin' you, but I can do you one better," Juice said. He produced the black binder again, showing off page after page of foils to me.
"Five. FIVE cards. Any foils you want, man! ANY of them! Name it, it's yours. Just gimme that Charizard!"
I looked over the cards. Vulpix shimmered like a goddess. Hypno's shine did indeed hypnotize me. And a foil Venusaur promised to fill the void in my collection left by my bastard cousin and my stolen non-foil Venusaur. I should trade. I'd be a fool not to trade. Five foils, for one card. I'm going to trade...
"No, man! I told you, I'm trading this with Waffle!"
Juice scowled at me, closing the binder quickly and skittering back into the mass of students that clogged the hallway. That was too close. Next time, I may not have the resolve to say no to five foils.
Lunch finally came. I bought a Nutzo ice cream cone, and sat with Waffle at the far end of the cafeteria. We talked shop for a few minutes, shared a few laughs, and finally got down to business.
"I think you're gonna like these," Waffle said.
He unzipped a side pouch on his backpack, and pulled out two cards in plastic sleeves. Both were holofoils, and each glowed in the light of the cafeteria. They were each emblazoned with kanji characters, rendering them both impossible to bring into actual play. I didn't care. These were two holofoil Pokemon that I had never seen before.
One was a blue sort of crocodile, that stood on his hind legs, a burst of foil water spouting around him. This was my first introduction to the creature Feraligatr. The other was a fighting-type. It looked like sort of a beetle, with two horn-like appendages protruding from it's head. An orange foil glow surrounded him. This was Pinsir, and he would become a perennial favorite of mine.
I pulled out the napkin-wrapped Charizard, and placed it on the table. Waffle gazed at it. He had never been so close to the card without a sleeve covering it. He quickly took it into his hands, and held it before him. I took my two new Japanese Neo cards, and placed them in my backpack.
Waffle looked into my eyes with a childish euphoria. "Thanks, man," He said enthusiastically.
"Don't mention it," I retorted. We ended the transaction with Respek Knuckles.
As I left school that day, I felt like a great burden had been lifted from my shoulders. I finally had two cards that nobody else had, direct from Japan, and I helped my friend get the card he always wanted. As I strutted down the sidewalk, I noticed Juice approaching me, a cocky smile covering his narrow face. I gave him a smug grin.
"'Sup, Juice?" I said loudly.
"Hey, stupid," Juice said gleefully. "Guess what? I just got your Charizard."
What was this fool talking about? I just traded Charizard to Waffle. Waffle had Charizard, not Juice.
Juice opened the black binder. I counted the missing cards in his collection. Five. At the back of the book, in the top left slot, it rested. The Fourth Charizard was now Juices.
I was shocked. I did not want to believe I was seeing this. "How did you get this?!"
Juice snickered. "I talked to Waffle earlier. He told me you traded him this for two worthless Japanese Pokemon who aren't even out in the States! I just traded him five foils for it! He's a lot smarter than you!"
I stood frozen in shock. I tried to find words to say to Juice. Nothing came. Juice slapped me on the shoulder and laughed, walking passed me in victory. My friend had betrayed my trust. The Fourth Charizard was now in the possession of the enemy, a spazzing maniac with a neck twitch.
I locked myself in my room, and opened my little red binder. I had to speak with them. I had to tell them what had happened. They would know what to do. The page burned less bright now that there were only three Charizards.
Now there are three of us. Have you brought anyone new?
...Yeah. Three Japanese Pokemon, from a new Pokemon game, apparently.
...We know what happened.
I know.
What do you do now? Where do you go from here?
...I'm through.
I closed the little red binder, and carelessly threw it into the closet. My days as a trader were over. My cousin was corrupted by the game. Now, my best friend. It would not corrupt me. I was done with Pokemon Cards forever.
I suddenly shifted back into this plane of existence. I stood there, holding this dusty red binder, staring at three red cards. What did they mean to me, in the end? They represented the pure randomness of life. They represented power, the likes of which corrupted men to the core. They represented sorrow, and the anguish that turns friend against friend.
I threw the red binder onto a pile, along with the other items I planned to sell. I didn't care about that power anymore. I didn't care that it could potentially ruin the poor bastard stupid enough to purchase it for three bucks. All I knew was, it was no longer my cross to bear.
End
