Before we begin!: What you are about to read is my take on the crazy and active Pokemon Trading Card "fad" of 1998-99, precisely its dying days as printing of the Panini figuritas and accompanying album ceased entirely. This is NOT the official TCG, but an officially-licensed take on it based on collecting rather than playing (although we still found ways to make a lot of games out of it, particularly throwing them against the wall for keeps, seeing who could toss them further).
I decided to make it in movie script form both because I really wanted to experiment with the format ever-since I first read Stephen King's "Storm Of The Century", and also because there was so much happening around the time as to require an entire book just to get it all out. This take boils the entire experience down to a few key moments towards the end, while also --and hopefully-- keeping the tone and the vibe intact. All events are real, but dialogue has been changed as the original has just faded from memory in the years since.
I hope you enjoy it!
(Establishing shot. Exterior. Nighttime. Buenos Aires, 1999).
The camera is set all the way back on the the other side of the street, focusing on a store that sits right in the middle of a busy sidewalk. Between both things there's a constant flow of traffic that obscures the view on bite-sized portions as cars, trucks, motorbikes and buses zoom by, blurring their way in and out of the shot. A traffic light turning red and casting its glow is just barely visible on the right edge of the frame.
The lens remains still as two figures emerge from off-screen and make their way to the center of the shot: an old man, perhaps 70-years-old, flanked by an eager boy around nine years of age. The boy walks quite determined to one of the stores, a humble business that nonetheless tries to make up for its lack of impressive features by putting up a "light show" of buzzing neon signs and bulbs that pool on to the street directly in front of it, giving the impression of a luminous oasis that casts a golden glow so big as to even fight the moonlight that clashes directly into it, giving the whole scene a beautiful, surreal gold-and-silver look.
The boy is so eager to make it to the store that he almost overshot the entrance, and has to take two steps back, before ascending the little steps leading into its interior. The old man trails behind, clearly not amused at the prospect of having to be out so late at night.
It might be hard to imagine, but Pokemon was so massive back then as to almost resemble a hostile take over of the country. It was literally all we would talk about once it hit.
(Interior. Nighttime).
The boy wastes no time getting into the store proper and beelines for the counter, where an amused cashier in his mid-thirties looks on with a mixture of amazement and wariness, clearly not used to seeing kids shopping at that hour. He relaxes visibly once the grandpa makes it through the door and begins talking to the boy.
Grandpa (whispering): Are you sure you wanna blow it all in one place? I'm sure you could have better luck by buying a little each day.
Boy (both amused and a little annoyed): Yes, grandpa. This is the best chance I have got, besides... it's my money, isn't it?
Grandpa (resigned): Ok, do as you please.
The boy then takes a brand-new, pristine $10 bill and places it on the counter, asking the cashier to give him as many Pokemon cards as that fortune would buy. The cashier glances up at the grandpa, clearly taken aback by this, and then proceeds to do as he was told once he gets a subtle confirmation nod from the old timer. A few seconds later, a mountain of dark-blue, cardboard envelopes with the Pokemon logo sit on the kid's hand as his hard-earned money disappears into the register. Pleased as can be, he grabs both his bounty and his grandpa's hand and leaves the store.
(Exterior. Nighttime).
The camera hasn't moved, but it is now zoomed-in on the duo as they rush back, the kid sporting a large grin while his grandpa smiles very sweetly at the sheer happiness on the little one's face. They disappear into a corner.
And once emulation became a thing? Just forget about it. It was no longer a matter of seeing the show anymore, but also of LIVING IT.
(Still Outside. Nighttime).
They emerge on a street that is completely dead at this time of day. The Kodak kiosk, barber shop, grill and formal events hall completely still and darkened. Unwilling to test fate, they rush through.
(Under a railroad bridge. Exterior. Nighttime).
The camera is set diagonally and close to the shot this time around, just far away enough to capture the enormous pillars that hold the bridge directly above the street and the rather narrow pavement that flows underneath. The traffic lights and lamp posts perform their duties for no-one as all traffic seems to have vanished from the road. The duo look to both sides before crossing in a rush as the green glow directly in front of them gives them permission to do so.
Once on the other side, conversation resumes.
Grandpa (pointing at a mound of tar that has since hardened just off the sidewalk): Would you look at that! What a careless job. Workmanship isn't what it used to be.
The kid has no answer to this, but looks on and smiles, remembering how his dad had spotted that earlier in the week and called it "Alien crap". He is smarter than to say that out loud, but can't completely suppress the laugh that's coming through, tugging at his lips.
The camera follows them as they become smaller and smaller, until they disappear entirely on another corner. The only thing left on the shot being the huge silver logo of a sports company long since gone out-of-business, its whimsical designs reflecting on the moonlight that bounces off its shiny, mirror-like surface. Whatever else that may have happened, someone is still taking care of the sign that was once a staple on its whole area, the pride and joy of its community.
There are no words to properly describe the sense of accomplishment that came with completing even a single page of the official album.
(Still exterior. Nighttime).
The pair make it to the home stretch of the neighborhood and walk purposefully towards their home, rushed by a seasonal chilling wind that has just begin howling and the light drizzle that has started falling. They rush inside and lock the metal gate behind them with a loud, definitive click.
(Interior. Nighttime).
The boy rushes to a table and begins ripping into his treasure, whilst his two siblings look on with awe and envy, grabbing a couple of packets themselves and asking if they could open them. The boy is in a good mood and lets them, and soon as the table is filled to the brim with dark-blue ribbons of what used to be package and shiny, new cards that still smell of factory and printer fumes, the true smells of childhood.
Sister (amused): Oh, wow! I like the little Horsea.
Little bro (excited): CHARIZARD!
Boy (laughing): Dang. There's a lot of repeated ones in here. I bet I can
trade them tomorrow.
Sister (pleading): Can I keep a few?
I hadn't seen the back of this album in over 20 years and I could still tell you exactly what it looked like.
The boy examines the pile and decides that he has no use for his growing collection of Beedrills and Butterfrees (among other common-as-dirt cards), so he sets those apart and gives them away to his siblings. His sister is already hard at work getting them to stick to her backpack, while the little bro is last seen trying to set one up for display near his mirror. They are both quite pleased with the deal and only return later to examine the remaining loot.
The door then swings open and their dad walks in, clearly worn out from yet another day at the work.
(Interior. Nighttime).
Their mom rushes to meet him and immediately instructs the kids to move the cards and trash away so that their dad could have dinner, but before they could even get started on that (knowing better than to protest) their dad walks up to them and picks up a random card from the pile, attempting to read it.
Dad (stretching every syllable): Po-ly-war?
He then picks up a couple more cards and does the same.
Dad: Miuchu? Vulpix?
He grabs for the first card again and manages to locate the evolved form from the pile.
Any serious collector went for the character page first. It was a point of pride.
Kid (astounded by his dad's sudden interest on a hobby he had said to hate due to the way it always ended up taking over the TV and hijacking most conversations): Polywrath is better, dad. This is a rare card, and the only one I have ever seen. Better hurry up and paste it on the album.
His dad doesn't reply, his interest on this foreign language thoroughly exhausted for one night, instead using this pre-dinner time to check on the other kids before sitting down to wolf down the milanesas de pollo con pure that mom had made.
(Establishing shot. Interior. Daytime).
An aerial shot pans around a schoolyard as dozens of tiny blue dots go about their business... some alone, some pairing up, some walking and some running. There's a lot of activity in that human beehive, but the camera sweeps down fast and unapologetically as it latches onto three of these dots until they begin developing defining features while the distance between themselves and the lenses gets shortened with terrifying speed.
The boy from earlier (now in his dark-blue gym uniform) is seen holding a plastic container with a purple lid and taking cards out of it like a magician performing a trick whilst his friends look on in awe, ready to make business.
Boy (taking a holographic Gary Oak card that's actually not that valuable): What about this one? Any takers?
Friend (snorting): Come on, dude. I already have like eight of those.
Another friend (joining in): I could probably trade for that one, but only because I really like the effects.
Boy (zeroing-in on that offer): Ok, what do you got?
Another friend (checking on his backpack, which has an actual, real-size clock built into it... for some reason): I can offer... Nidoking, Bellsprout or Rapidash.
Boy: I'll take Nidoking.
Nothing to add, really... It just makes me happy.
They make the trade as if dealing coke, looking over their shoulders for both snitches and teachers, since these items have long been forbidden on the playground.
First friend: You have a lot more cards in there. Why don't you show us something really cool?
Boy (rummaging through the contents): Ok... let's see what else I can come up with.
He then gets a Charmeleon out, a card that's actually rare.
First friend: Nice! But I don't think I have anything to trade for that one. I have already exchanged most of my prized ones to fill holes on my album.
Another friend: Yeah... unless you are hurting for some really common ones, I think I'm about done here.
The boy entertains the idea of trading for Bellsprout, since he is, indeed, lacking that extremely common one, but holds on for whatever reason, probably looking for some more offers.
The bell then rings, signaling the end of playground drug-dealing.
One thing that I have come to appreciate is that they really did try to make genuine products out of these.
Six months later, as the cards had stopped being made, he found that he lacked only two out of the whole set: Vileplume... and Bellsprout.
(Interior. Classroom. Daytime).
The boy gets into his assigned seat and secures the plastic container right beneath the desktop, jamming it as far back as it'd go. Books and folders be damned.
In steps Sofia, a petite blonde who would never lose that warm, friendly smile that had so thoroughly defined ever-since they had first met back in the First Grade. She takes a seat right beside him and starts talking to him as if they weren't just about to be scolded the hell and back for breaking classroom protocol, getting ready to be chewed on as classic teacher complaints rain down on them, bitting phrases like "didn't you just come from the outside?", "why didn't you talk then?", "do you want to spend recess in here?"... but, to their surprise, this doesn't come. Not even close. The teacher is late, and so the boy reaches back and takes the lid off his makeshift card-carrying case, letting the girl rummage through it as if offering some sort of candy or gold (and, in their young minds, he was actually offering both things at once). Sofia's smile widens even further as she makes a show out of digging deeper and deeper into the pile, twisting it with her whole arm just to fish out a good one... she takes out a card and amuses herself with it, since she was just lacking that one to complete her own album. The boy prepares a trade pitch.
Boy: So... do you wanna trade?
Sofia: I didn't really bring my cards today.
Boy: That's alright. Wanna keep it?
Sofia (a bit taken aback): Are you sure? We can trade tomorrow.
Boy: Nah, keep it. Besides, it's not like I have other takers for that one.
Sofia: Thank you!
Bro was a nightmare to get.
She then proceeds to deposit the card on the little cave she had made out of her pencil case, getting two of her pens upright to prevent the lid from closing. It's a silly thing we all did at some point, and it gave the distinct impression of a treasure chest now that the card was sitting face up in the middle of it.
The teacher finally walks in, muttering a half-baked, barely audible excuse about traffic jams and jammed roads before casting a seething glance around the room, the universal sign for "playtime's over", lingering just enough on the both the boy and his friend to make sure the message is caught (making him shut the lid on the card container a little too loudly and making Sofia "demolish" her cave with a single, Karate chop-like movement of the hand).
They don't speak for the rest of the class. There's no need to poke the bear after it is already radiating murderous vibes.
(Exterior. Schoolyard. Daytime).
The boy takes his cards out three more times (once per recess) and attempts to trade them, with zero success. No-one is still bringing their cards this late into the production cycle, with many having either already completed their albums or having given up entirely.
A friend named Nicolas approaches the boy and surprises him by letting him go through his backpack, allowing him to keep any cards he finds. Jackpot!
The boy gets to it immediately but can't find the missing two cards that would complete his quest.
The boy thanks his friend and prepares to leave for the day, already devising ways to get his hands on those two evasive prizes.
(Fade to black).
Would you believe that these STILL command outrageous prices online? I sure would.
(Establishing shot. Inside. Daytime).
The boy is seen walking up to complete strangers on the schoolyard, sweetening the deal by throwing in extras just to get those last two cards. Nobody has them.Would you believe that these STILL command outrageous prices online? I sure would.
(Establishing shot. Inside. Daytime).
(Fade to black).
(Last establishing shot. Exterior. Daytime).
(Last establishing shot. Exterior. Daytime).
The camera sits right in the same spot from the first scene, still overlooking the opposite sidewalk as the rush hour traffic blocks the frame almost entirely. The boy can be barely seen among the speeding vehicles that obscure the view, walking into the same store where he had bought all the cards before. His demeanor now a little resigned, no longer bubbly and excited.
(Interior. Daytime).
The boy walks to the cashier and throws two $1 coins on the counter, asking to get a couple more packs before production ended entirely, hoping to get lucky one last time.
The cashier ducks around the counter and can be heard pushing cardboard and plastic displays aside, feeling his way through the darkened areas of the underside of the counter, as if trying to grab on to the familiar form of a packet he had handled so early and so often as to become instantly recognizable for him. But, alas, there's no such luck.
Cashier: Sorry, little bud. They stopped delivering them weeks ago. I think production ended.
The boy nods and walks away. Disappointed, but not actually sad... because he is already planning on giving the rest of his cards away to his siblings and then to crazily good and crafty girl from the first row of the classroom, the one who had turned all her spare cards into little stands and stickers for us to enjoy.
(Closing shot. Exterior. Daytime).
An aerial view of the street catches the boy as he's leaving the store and heading home, becoming a smaller and smaller spec as the camera pulls away, making him, the endless traffic and the surrounding scenery into tiny, ant-sized, undefined blurs of color and movement until they are replaced by the slow drift of the clouds.
(Last fade to black).
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