Well, what the heck are you doing, standing around Satellite Pier for that long? Dontcha got anything better to do?
"Dude! Mind moving? You're breathing up all our air!" Your attention is riveted by a rather rude and obnoxious individual--a young man or *coughcoughNoob* by the looks of it. A proud Pidgey is perched on its shoulder, its chest puffed out as if it was the king of the world. Like its owner, the bird gives you a rather condescending look. Both seem completely oblivious to the fact that you're accompanied by a Typhlosion.
"Go find your own atmosphere, why don't you?" the boy sneers at you. "Pidgey here's gonna dominate the skies, yo! He's in the top percentage of Pidgeys, ain't ya, bud?"
"Coo!" It hardly seems possible, but the Pidgey puffed out its chest even farther than before.
"And no," Gary quickly adds. "I didn't steal that brag from a rat-loving runt. Hawks own worm-tails anyday, right Pidgey?"