Strangulation by GameCube

Who's pretentious?  We are!  For the next ten minutes, your name is Lord Fitzwilliam Derbyshire II, and you speak beautifully.

I forget in which year this wonderful memory occurred, but the colors are quite vivid.  My inkling tells me I was in the eighth grade, but I could easily be mistaken.

My father loves to fish.  He goes fishing nearly every weekend and every day off he can manage, without fail.  He goes by himself, with others, at night, or in the morning.  I feel that he truly finds a connection with God when he is out on the water, facilitating the circle of life, the natural process of predator and prey.  The fish are the prey.  Naturally.

He keeps his prizes in a large upstanding freezer in our garage, and stockpiles for months on end.  He gives bags of frozen, cleaned fish as gifts to any and everyone fortunate enough to know him.  However, my father's generosity cannot overrun his catching capacity, and so the stacks of Ziploc baggies build up more and more, as if they are spawning new copies of themselves.  Disgusting little buggers.

Every six months, back when my brother and I were in school, my house would host a "Fish Fry," religiously attended by many of my close friends for years on end.  The summer Fish Fry would typically double as my birthday party.  My household was also fortunate enough to have amassed a formidable collection of various games.  Billiards, darts, ping-pong, horseshoes, an infinite closet of board games, water guns, foam swords, and, this year, my newest and most prized possession:  a Nintendo GameCube.

A staple at many gatherings from then onward, the Nintendo GameCube was fortunate enough to host what I call the greatest fighting game of the time, Super Smash Bros. Melee.  And at this particular party, for this particular moment, on my birthday, at my house, in my living room, on the television screen, I was King.

Many of my guests were unfamiliar with the controls, and I could tell they were losing interest quickly.  Eight or so young people crowded around a television screen.  I observed my opponent's hopeless flailing in the game, but failed to notice the hopeless flailing occurring on my couch.

I suppose a squabble had arisen over whose turn it was to play, or who was to claim a space on the couch.  I must admit, I was immersed in my on-screen conquering.  I heard a gasp, and a choking, gurgling sound, and I turned to see two girls from my class.  One girl, Brooke, too witty for her own good.  The other, Kayla, too skinny to survive a slight breeze.  Apparently, Kayla had squeezed herself into a tight position:  between Brooke and a GameCube controller.  Brooke might have been wearing a green Veggie Tales T-shirt as she tenderly, let us say, "hugged" the life out of a friend with a controller cord, but one can't be sure.  Truly a model of Love.  (In truth, I might have photographs of this particular party, though not the conflict.  I will do my best to find and display at a later date.) 

I realize now why I had dominated so effectively and efficiently.  My opponent had been engaged in a raging battle of her own, distracted by another momentary, albeit slightly more dangerous, enemy.

I don't remember how the conflict ended, or who broke them up.  It wasn't me.  I was paralyzed from the possibility that I might see a dead body by the end of the day.  My birthday!  The brutes.  I only know that both Brooke and Kayla are still alive, and, from what I remember, somewhat good friends now.  I could be wrong.  This memory has made for an entertaining anecdote at many a gathering of high school friends.  Needless to say, the GameCube was retired for the rest of the day, in favor of foam sword-fighting.  It seems everyone had a little stress that needed to be released.

It is one of those loving reminiscences that goes something like, "Do you remember that time I tried to kill Kayla?"  "Oh yes, it was a charming day, indeed."


Also, it appears I am now taking requests.  If we shared a moment that you wish to share with others through my open correspondence with the masses, let me know.  I will retell it to the best of my abilities.