Video Games and Console Platforms… Keep Your Hands Off Mine
I love my Xbox. More than I have ever loved anything before. This is more than just a hobby. Winning or losing doesn’t matter. The drama that unfolds on the screen thanks to that magical box is the only thing that makes my heart race. Nothing could ever produce the euphoria that my Xbox does.
My wife understood. She knew that she’d never be able to get as much love as I gave to that little box. Not from me anyway. That’s probably why she left me. She packed up while I was on playing Spec Ops online and waited until a cut-scene came up to break the news to me. She knew that I wouldn’t even have bothered to pause it if I was in the middle of video games play. Smart girl.
The conversation was pretty one-sided. She went on about how she needed to be somewhere where she felt loved and didn’t have to compete for attention with a box. I nodded as she spoke. Not that I was actually listening. I’d learnt that the only way to keep her from pulling the power cord out was to at least show some signs of life while she spoke, even though my attention was on the screen. She left before the cut-scene ended. And that was the last that I ever saw of her.
I was playing video games alone for a while after that
Anyway, I ordered takeout three times a day and ate it while playing online, tossing the empty food cartons by the side of the couch. My girlfriend used to clean them up but she wasn’t there anymore. I just let the pile grow, my nose growing immune to the acrid scent of rotting leftovers. With that said, I kept telling myself that I’d take them out eventually but eventually never came. I just let them pile up there and only left the couch when I needed to pee.
There wasn’t many sings of life in that house. That made me seem like an easy target. I didn’t even hear the crash; as the door was forced open one night as well as a pair of home invaders came waltzing in. They looked around the room and their gaze landed on me.
“Hey jackass,” said the one with a shiny crowbar. “This is a robbery. We’re here for all of your good stuff.”
I ignored him and kept playing
He pointed the crowbar at me on the couch and shook it.
“Hey,” he said. “I’m talking to you!”
He walked over to me and reached for the controller in my hand, and that’s when he got my attention. I paused the video games with my left hand and reached my right hand in between the couch cushions. My fist clasped around the butt of a snub-nosed .38 revolver; which I pulled out and pointed at the thug’s throat, right under his chin. All without looking away from the screen.
“I don’t care why you’re here,” I said to him. “But if you try to get between me and my gaming I will shoot you where you stand and leave your body to rot where it lands. Understood?”
The thug raised his hands and nodded slowly.
“I understand,” he said. “Now how about you lower that gun? You don’t want brains splattered all over this lovely couch.”
However, I pulled the gun away from him and placed it down beside my right leg on the couch.
“Take whatever you want,” I said to them. “Just don’t interrupt me again.”
I unpaused my video games
I then went back to cutting up aliens with high-tech power tools. The thugs danced around me and went upstairs. Their feet pounded on the floorboards as they looked around for things to steal.
They came back down the steps with a few trinkets in hand, one of my old tablets, my laptop as well as a few paintings that we’d had on the wall. I just shrugged and pointed with my chin towards the front door. They were almost there when I remembered something and picked my gun back up and fired. The bullet smashed into the wooden frame as well as the two thugs stopped right where they were, still holding onto my stuff.
“I need you to do something for me before you leave,” I said, one hand still on the controller, navigating through the dark corridors of a spaceship designed by someone who probably had nightmares every night of his life. With my gun-hand I pointed to the pile of take-away containers on the ground. “Take out the trash for me.”
“Take out the trash?” said one of them. “Do we look like freaking garbage men?”
Nonetheless, I pulled the trigger on my snub-nose. The bang filled the room and the wood on the door frame splintered on the bullet’s impact. They got the message and piled the foul-smelling as well as discolored food cartons into bin bags which they took with them on their way out.
Just like that I’d managed to get the trash taken out and I didn’t even have to get off the couch. Things always work out well in the end.