I was super excited to get a new video game console. The
game came with a lifelike tommy gun and I knew since tommy guns were weapons
from old gangster movies that I was promoting no new kind of violence. When I got ready to play the game I put on my
headset to play live with people from all over the world. How cool is that? I
finally had access to a multitude of strangers…possibly some to meet. I finally
saw why children enjoyed gaming so much. I had my tommy gun ready to fake shoot
the avatar fake people I met. The first person I battled with was a
12-year old kid, a seasoned veteran of the game. Being that it was my first
time, the kid fake killed me over and over again. Each time he would yell,
“Open those legs, Bitch!” or “Up your ass, faggot!” I was so shocked. I
remember actually saying out loud, “I’m shocked!” After taking what seemed like
hours of verbal abuse from FishEater2013,
a 12-year old kid, I finally became
frustrated and yelled, “Hey kid! Tell your daddy he needs an ass whooping for
not knowing you have a mouth like that!” The kid laughed at me and said, “Oh
yeah, from who?” I said, “From RightSaidFred1991.
That’s who.” I mean seriously? I used to think Frogger on Atari was a headache. But, I’ve practiced so much that
now I fake kill FishEater2013
every time and I’ve taught him less offensive phrases to say like “Mission
Accomplished!” when he wins or “Awe…Game over!” when he loses. And it only took
threatening to come over and kill his family when he was sleeping. I love
gaming. It’s safe violence
It’s forgettable- the number of times I was called a “fucking faggot” as a kid. As a former child of god, I wasn’t expected to know what those words meant. I was taught that repentance was vital to achieving everlasting life. My momma made me go to church every Sunday. I said my prayers as I was told. But I eventually learned that Catholicism was never my sanctuary. Christianity was never my safe-haven. God never stopped the cheap shots. He never once prevented the harassment or pure embarrassment that I felt from the words of my “kin in Christ.” Now, picture me- a helpless faggot, blinded by the incandescent lights of an old catholic church. I was home from college spending Spring Break in my former hellscape. So, naturally, my momma yet again made me go to church. This time, on a Wednesday. It was Ash Wednesday. When I was among the folks from home, I felt out of place. So much that I’d imagine camouflaging myself. Like saber-tooth in hiding. But the difference? I had a far mo...
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