[ wp ] Times are tough and the world is not what it used to be . You have no choice but to become an illegal pokemon trader .

“ Listen man, I know the rent is overdue but I ’ ll get the money to you tomorrow, I swear… I ’ ll get it to you… ” At the end of the line my landlord paused and I swore I could hear him wave his arm at his doting wife, Linda. In my mind I could see Linda in the background on the scene, hissing at Matt about how he shouldn ’ t have taken a penniless waster like me on. The phone crackled as I heard him sigh. 
 
 “ 725. By 12 tomorrow. Or you ’ re out. ” 
 
 “ It ’ ll be with you by 11. ” I nodded empathically as I said it, at the same time wishing the words hadn ’ t come out of my mouth. There ’ s no way I ’ d raise that amount by tomorrow midday, let alone 11am… I had roughly twenty quid to my name. Even if I called in all the favours I was owed I ’ d still fall short. 
 
 Looking around my dismal flat, I took a quick inventory of what was left here. I sold my laptop two weeks ago to a guy down in The Depths after going four days without food. Almost all my clothes were tatty and in ruins because I couldn ’ t afford to replace them. The TV-VR went months ago along with my job at the Pokemon healing centre. When the law against trading Pokemon passed and restrictions to their ownership came in, they quickly fell out of fashion. My phone was a beat up old iPhone 6, a relic from days when time was simpler. And my vintage CD collection… well, that wasn ’ t an option. Music was my life blood. 
 
 My eyes continued to skip around the studio flat, glancing over the peeling wallpaper and mouldy outlines on the ceiling. 725 quid for this dump, I fumed silently. Better than sleeping on the streets though I guess. Underneath the floorboards I could hear a faint squeaking – a sound which I hadn ’ t heard in months. Could it be..? 
 
 Frantically, I dropped to my knees and started pulling up the carpet. A voice at the back of my mind whispered that I ’ d have to pay Matt for the damages later but it didn ’ t matter; I ’ d know that noise anywhere. Eventually I managed to prize the half rotten floorboards from their pins and my suspicions were confirmed. Underneath the floor boards, burrowed in a little nest of old newspaper trimmings and what I think might have been one of the socks I last saw about 3 weeks ago was an adolescent Rattata with four young. Four! Each one would fetch at least £800 on the black market. Sure, they weren ’ t Pikachu pups or even Bulbasaur hatchlings but they would be enough for most entry level collectors. As I sank back onto my heels I felt the tears begin to flow down my cheeks.
