I've taken notice that there are clearly not enough Steven Stone Fics out there ... so here's my crack at one! :D

Written in first person and such.

Disclaimer: not mine, blahblahblah yeah we all know. If it WAS mine, Steven would have a much more important role in the games!

Rated 'M' for future Chapters.

THIS IS REWRITTEN! and as far as I'm concerned, better! C:

Chapter 1: Waking up like a Champ…Pokémon Champ

Aaah, nothing quite like the feeling of a prehistoric, fossilized Pokémon print slamming into your forehead first thing in the morning. Who needs alarm clocks when you could have a hard, cold rock crash down on your face from the table above your head?

Being the dense person I am, I sprung up into a sitting position banging my head on the slab of wood above me. A small metal head with wide blue eyes peered at me from the top of the table, crying a short "Aron!"

I rubbed my now-throbbing head tenderly and whined, flopping back onto the cold hardwood floor.

I hated my house. It was so cramped and dysfunctional…well, okay. Maybe it wasn't cramped per say…but my modest home couldn't stand its own against my pack rat tendencies… my modest little abode just wasn't able to hold all of my crap.

Any normal person would have been able to manage just fine with my home;however I was far from normal.

You see, I didn't collect just any old junk. I had 2 passions which seemed to devour my lifestyle.

One: My overwhelming collection of rare and precious rocks/gems/fossils; you name it, I had it.

Two: My passion for Pokémon training, which coincidentally landed me a seat as the Hoenn regions residing champion.

So here I sat, under my dining room table- or rather… "Makeshift bed" rubbing my throbbing skull. I picked up the dusty Cradily fossil that just assaulted my face, placing it aside from further damage. I rolled my blue eyes irritably and crawled out from under my table on all fours, sighing at the nest of scattered paperwork on my floor. I really needed to get my act together. The Hoenn Champion couldn't allow himself to be such a mess of a human-

As if that was ever going to change.

Climbing to my feet, I stretched my arms far above my head and yawned, catching a glance of the tiny metal Poké-demon sitting on my table cheerfully. The little brat was the one that smashed my face with the fossil. I bent over the table and craned my head in close to the shiny Pokémon, a grouchy scowl plastered on my face.

"Now that I'm awake, princess, can I help you?" my voice was full of sleep. The small Pokémon sat on its hind legs and opened its mouth wide, making a whining noise.

Of course. It was hungry. The little brat was always hungry.

I decided not to upset the little Aron; mostly because its temper-tantrums were capable of bringing my entire house (crappy or not) to ruble. Dropped to the floor beside the pile of paperwork, I scanned the mess with stiff hands until I grasped a small metal device.

The Pokéblock case was now all that stood between my one year old Aron and his breakfast. He leapt off the table at the sight of the familiar device in my hand and opened his mouth wider, an even louder plea escaping his throat. I bit back an exasperated sigh and pulled out a few yellow Pokéblock and placed them before my companion.

Aron hungrily devoured the soft blocks, as if I never fed him, and cried happily with a nudge to my flannel-panted leg in gratitude. Yawning and stumbling over to my "bed" I began my search for a watch amidst the sea of chinese take-out containers, papers, and rocks. Grinning like the kid who found Waldo, I snatched up my watch and slowly focused in on the time. My stomach dropped at my brain clicked the numbers together.


I was late for work.

I practically kicked my Aron out of the way as I scrambled to my coat closet; which conveniently stored all of my clothes. I stripped out of my t-shirt and flannel pants, grabbing my starch white dress shirt and yanking it on with more speed than a Scizor…or close enough.

I tugged on my coat, and ran my fingers through my hair quickly. Turning to the mirror I froze. I was a frazzled mess in formalwear. Without pants.

Tension was beginning to ball up in all of my muscles, my headache worsening…I needed…coffee.

Just as I was about to spring to the kitchen to brew up a pot of delicious caffeine, Aron slammed into my leg forcefully.

"Ow! What the hell! I don't have ti-" I paused when I understood the message my Aron was trying to deliver.

It was Saturday. I don't work on Saturdays.

The princess didn't wake me up for work. He only wanted to be fed.

At this point I was ready to go ballistic, scream my head off and bash my head open on my sloppy, hardwood table. In fact, that seemed like a pretty appeasing plan at the moment.

This was officially one the worst mornings ever; there was only one thing that could keep me from driving over the cliff of insanity.

Rock hunting.

Aaaaah~ that was much better!

it was short and sweet. a little opener before our favorite ruby-eyed beauty enters~ (in the proper REVISED chapter 2!)

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