(Pre-note to reader: This was one of my submission pieces to Blistered Thumbs when they first asked for Culture Contributors. Hope you enjoy!)
(Note to reader: parts of this story are true, and a few of them have been humorously exaggerated for the sake of making the most of my Jenn's oh-so-infamous red-headed temper flares. She really does understand my gaming habit, even if she doesn't understand it, and she's been more than supportive. Just wanted you to know she's not really a wench.)
"It's a robot chicken. How is this cool?"
My girlfriend's tone showed her disparaging attitude toward my favorite pixelated addiction. Her left eyebrow scrunched down, and I could almost swear her hair turned a darker shade of red as she contemplated the notion that I would rather spend my time running around on a noisy, dilapidated "robot chicken" than say, go shopping, watch a chick flick, or (heaven forbid) go line dancing. I tried to explain myself, but not to much avail:
"M’dear, it's a mechanostrider, and..."
Oh, fudge. Good job, Aaron. Do the geek rant, do it like you mean it, insist on the full and proper names of things like a Trekkie talking about Next Generation with his mom, and cement your place as a dweeb (albeit lovable) in her mind. You get a gold star. She, like most females that see a chink in the grammar armor, took full advantage of this, and fired back her retort:
"IT'S A CHICKEN, AARON. A STUPID CHICKEN. YOU'D RATHER SPEND TIME WITH A CHICKEN THAN WITH ME? I SEE HOW IT IS. I SEE HOW IT IS."
"...izza mechanostrider..."
"CHICKEN."
And with that, my small, beautiful bundle of fury flounced off to talk with the rest of my family, leaving me with my ego in the proverbial dumpster, and my mechanostrider rumbling in the midst of the Trade District. It almost seemed to be cowed by her statement, its smoky fluctuations almost seemed to sink to a saddened level. I put a supportive finger on top of my poor, trusty steed, shaking and depressed after such a callous insult.
"It's okay, you'll always be a mechanostrider to me."
Softly as I said it, I should have never underestimated the power of my girlfriend's hearing.
"IT'S A CHICKEN, AARON WINFIELD WAITE, A STUPID ROBOT CHICKEN THAT YOU'D RATHER SPEND TIME WITH THAN YOUR FAMILY! IT'S ONLY A MATTER OF TIME BEFORE YOU LOSE YOUR JOB, LIVING ON JALEPENO POPPERS AND CRAPPING YOURSELF SO YOU CAN STAY IN A BIG GROUP THINGY!"
"...izza raid..."
"I HEARD THAT, YOU DORK!"
Ah, young love...
"It's a robot chicken. How is this cool?"
My girlfriend's tone showed her disparaging attitude toward my favorite pixelated addiction. Her left eyebrow scrunched down, and I could almost swear her hair turned a darker shade of red as she contemplated the notion that I would rather spend my time running around on a noisy, dilapidated "robot chicken" than say, go shopping, watch a chick flick, or (heaven forbid) go line dancing. I tried to explain myself, but not to much avail:
"M’dear, it's a mechanostrider, and..."
Oh, fudge. Good job, Aaron. Do the geek rant, do it like you mean it, insist on the full and proper names of things like a Trekkie talking about Next Generation with his mom, and cement your place as a dweeb (albeit lovable) in her mind. You get a gold star. She, like most females that see a chink in the grammar armor, took full advantage of this, and fired back her retort:
"IT'S A CHICKEN, AARON. A STUPID CHICKEN. YOU'D RATHER SPEND TIME WITH A CHICKEN THAN WITH ME? I SEE HOW IT IS. I SEE HOW IT IS."
"...izza mechanostrider..."
"CHICKEN."
And with that, my small, beautiful bundle of fury flounced off to talk with the rest of my family, leaving me with my ego in the proverbial dumpster, and my mechanostrider rumbling in the midst of the Trade District. It almost seemed to be cowed by her statement, its smoky fluctuations almost seemed to sink to a saddened level. I put a supportive finger on top of my poor, trusty steed, shaking and depressed after such a callous insult.
"It's okay, you'll always be a mechanostrider to me."
Softly as I said it, I should have never underestimated the power of my girlfriend's hearing.
"IT'S A CHICKEN, AARON WINFIELD WAITE, A STUPID ROBOT CHICKEN THAT YOU'D RATHER SPEND TIME WITH THAN YOUR FAMILY! IT'S ONLY A MATTER OF TIME BEFORE YOU LOSE YOUR JOB, LIVING ON JALEPENO POPPERS AND CRAPPING YOURSELF SO YOU CAN STAY IN A BIG GROUP THINGY!"
"...izza raid..."
"I HEARD THAT, YOU DORK!"
Ah, young love...
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