When I turned six my mother gave me a Gameboy Color and a copy of Pokemon Silver. Or Gold. Or Silver-Gold.

The cartridge of the game was black, while the art on it (on the silver sticker) included the sexy, beastly lugia--wings spread and all. However, the Pokemon seal near the left corner of the sticker said "silver/gold" instead of just..."silver."

That cursed thing wouldn't even save. Basically, it was a fake version of Silver, and the cartridge wasn't even colored gray. The Pokemon seal didn't specify the version name, either. OK, that's alright...it's just one game. I had to appreciate what my mother had bought for me. Sure, it was from the little video games shop in the San Gabriel Valley Superstore, and it didn't quite work properly--but there were many birthdays ahead and even more presents I could look forward to.

And soon as I was able to blink I was nine, and everyone around me had a PS2. My uncle had one. My best friend Daniel had one. As expected, I asked for a video game console--not just another portable gaming device. My father came home one day with a big box; on the font was a picture of a PS.

And the words "PikaGame" were engraved on the flip-up cover (dunno the technical term for it, but it 's flipped open to reveal game cartridge slots). At that point I had one thought and one thought only: Why the hell do all of the fake games I get have something to do with Pokemon?

It turned out that the game cartridge slots were too big for PlayStation games, and the machine already had "ten million" games "in one." The scumbag makers of the machine failed in that department as well, since those "ten million" games on the list of games were re-worded copies of the games that were built in.

My dad said he got the thing for $30 bucks, and that there was no need to fret over buying somethin as expensive as a PS2.

Finally, when I was eleven, I received from my parents a real console. I came home one day to ask my parents about getting a 360 at launch, to which they frowned upon and never replied. A week later, in the car, my dad told me he had a surprise. From the trunk of his car he hauled out a box containing--

A PlayStation (PS, not even a PS2) bundled with a Lil' Romeo game. The hell? There are video games for lame mainstream rap artists too?? I know, I know...this has nothing to do with fake consoles and my hate for them...

But anyway, when my bewilderment was evident he said: "What's the matter, isn't it the same as an XBOX? See? There's no need for one now, the seller told me he'd give it to me for fifteen dollars!"

Yes, folks, this is a true story. We were not poor.