Picture this, you are your 9-year-old (millennial) self again. You’re sitting on your stoop, sipping your Caprisun, eating your Dunkaroos, your parents are nowhere in sight, because, of course, it’s the 90s.
As you sit consuming your favorite 90s sugar filled treats, the street goes quiet and the air stands still around you. Off in the distance a whirl of wind and zaps of lightning. You hear a loud roaring sound and then, suddenly, something appears down the block.
Just a minute before, your cousin’s friend was trying to do tricks on his Razor scooter and now, your cousin’s friend is engulfed by the chaotic displacement of matter and sound.
Which sucks, because he just got that Razor.
In your cousin’s friend’s place, what can only be described as a portal appears. You, as your 9-year-old self, squint, trying to see what is happening in the distance.
Suddenly, through said portal, a man, no… a 20-something “man” riding a blue bicycle appears.
This 20-something comes through the portal on the blue bike. Oddly enough, he’s not dressed in the typical bike shorts your 9-year-old self is accustomed to seeing someone wear when riding a bike. No, he’s dressed in a suit that is way too tight. Flying out over and behind his neck, the 20-something has a pink tie on, which you think is weird because boys don’t wear pink, duh. 9-year-old you notice that the bike says “Citi” on it, which is weird because you, as a 9-year-old, know that city is not spelt that way.
You reach for your disposable camera. It’s the one you took from your great-aunt’s 3rd wedding. But it takes you far too long to wind the darn thing, and the 20-something “man” is already too close for the flash to load.
The 20-something jumps off the bike, kicks out the kickstand, leaves the bike, and approaches you.
While you should be scared, the 20-something seems familiar. Plus, it’s the 90s. Unless he’s asking you to help him find his “lost dog,” you aren’t in danger.
You try to speak, but before you can, he says, “Jason…”
You perk up and respond, “my friends call me Jay!” while you set down your snacks and await his reply.
The stranger sighs and says “Jay… I’m, uhh, I’m you from the future and I have some important news.”
9-year-old you is flabbergasted (a word you likely learned from a Goosebumps book).
Without much thought, because you’re 9, and honestly, nothing really surprises you at 9 you say, “I thought I’d have a deeper voice.”
Presumably-20-something-year-old you clears his (your?) throat, “I come from the year 2019.” He pauses, looking at you as if expecting some kind of reaction, but you’re 9 and don’t really listen all that well when adults are talking to you. “Okay, well, just know that there are a lot of problems in 2019 – political division, global warming, Al Gore was right about that. Wait, you probably won’t know him until next year when he’s on Futurama…”
“This is boringggggg. I’m going inside, I think.”
“Look,” 20-something-year-old you says, “there is one speck of hope. That’s what I came here to tell you, uhh, me.” Both “you’s” stare for a moment, before 20-something-year-old you continues. “…there is going to be a live action Pokémon movie!”
9-year-old you jumps to your feet, raising your arms above your head and begins to sing, “I wanna be the very bes-,” but your celebration is cut short.
9-year-old you can’t hold back his excitement and begins asking questions, “Cut it out! No way?! Is Ash finally going to beat the Pokémon League, is it more like the Red and Blue? Pikachu is…”
Stone-faced 9-year-old you looks at his future self and says “what?”
“Yeah, that’s what I came here to tell you. It’s actually an adaption of a game from 2016, called Great Detective Pikachu, it was later released in the United States; the main character is a 20-something man that is looking for his lost father and the only one that can help him is Detective Pikachu.”
Confused and processing what future you has just said, 9-year-old you, hesitant and hopeful, asks “and they have to beat various gyms to find his dad?”
Future you laughs and says, “No, actually, the main character hates Pokémon. The only reason he is accepting help from Detective Pikachu is because this particular Pikachu speaks flawless English.”
“Wha- like Meowth?” says 9-year-old you.
“Well, for some reason the main character is the only one who can understand him, so we’re kind of left questioning his sanity. While he continues to search the dangerous and gritty world for his missing and presumed dead father.”
Suddenly in the distance the portal begins to crackle, 20-something-year-old you looks at 9-year-old you and begins to pick up the Citi Bike. Future you mounts the bike and begins to pedal away toward the anomaly.
Your 9-year-old mind is reeling with this information. As 20-something-year-old you pedals ever closer to the portal, 9-year-old you yells out one question: “If Pikachu speaks, someone must be playing him! Who is playing Pikachu?!”
Future you yells over his shoulder as he furiously pedals and screams, “the guy from Two Guys a Girl and a Pizza Place…”
20-something-year-old you disappears into the portal – which, by the way, your cousin’s friend hasn’t reappeared beside – and 9-year-old you sits back down on the stoop to finish your Dunkaroos and ponder what the future holds.
Want some joy? See Pokémon Detective Pikachu in theaters now, or watch the "leaked" film here: