“You are old, Giovanni, the richest of men,
Also old, as I’m forced to repeat,
Since your arch-nemesis is a child of ten,
Whom you never can seem to defeat.”
“In my youth,” said the villain, “A child of that age
Beat my pidgey, which still makes me wince:
And my infamous schemes have been driven by rage
Against children of ten ever since.”
“You are old, Giovanni, ambitious and cold,
Yet you focus on pokémon stealing.
Why not branch out to slum-lording, counterfeit gold,
Narcotraffic, or insider dealing?”
“Self respect!” said the villain. “For how could I boast
Of the nations and kings in my thrall
If I left unaccomplished what matters the most
In my heart: namely ‘catching them all’?”
“You are old, Giovanni, an evil tycoon,
A man to beware of, in brief.
So why are your minions such talentless goons,
And such odious comic relief?”
“Long ago,” said the villain, “I rose to this role
By betraying my mentor and friend.
Now I choose to be served by the hapless and droll
So’s to not meet a similar end.”
“You are old, Giovanni, no stranger to rout,
And you should be quite tricky to rattle.
So why are you always so shocked and put out
When you lose at a Pokémon battle?”
“Fwa-ha-ha!” said the villain. “You’ve taken my bait!
And you’ll pay for the barbs I’ve endured!
Now face me in battle, my young reprobate:
Your loss is as good as assured!”