Stranger Things

The only thing better than watching a good sci-fi show is watching it with a co-pilot who navigates the storyline labyrinth with you. Yarei and I are not movie critic connoisseurs… we’re more like the fools on Mystery Science Theater 3000 who make stupid comments to each other about the absurdity of low budget movies..most of the time it’s my own monologue, followed by a simple “mmhm” by Yarei.

Our most recent discovery has been the Netflix original series Stranger Things.  It’s a sci-fi/suspense story about a boy from a quiet, yet secret-laden, town who goes missing.  His friends, a-la Goonies style, take matters in their own hands and go looking for him, only to discover there are otherworldly secrets behind his disappearance and a mysterious girl with psychokinetic powers who could have clues to the mystery.  Take this story and wrap it in a campy 80s setting, and you’ve got all the ingredients for a day of pj’s and forsaken chores.

As we watched episode three, I paused the show to enlighten Yarei on my conclusions regarding the town mystery (slight spoiler alert if you haven’t seen episodes 1-3 ).

“I think I figured out how it’s going to end,” I claimed digging my chip into some homemade salsa.

“That so?” she replied, taking a sip of her chamomile tea with a hint of lime and honey.

“Mmmhmm.  I think it has to do with the whole 80’s setting. I think the town is stuck in the 80s and the people who go missing are brought to the present… but it’s still the same town.  Two parallel towns that are somehow connected to each other via a strange creature.” Crunch

I was quite impressed at my conclusion.  Yarei was quite impressed with her tea.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She took a deep breath of the aromatic vapors and drifted off to teavana.

“Look,” I placed three nachos of increasing size next to each other to illustrate, “it’s like a mystery within a mystery.  Like those Russian dolls, or like the show Lost… where the island is part of a bigger mystery, and in the end the biggest mystery is they’re all dead.”

She took the biggest mystery nacho out of my hand and dipped it in salsa, followed by a deliberately loud crunch.

“Ok, Louie,” she responded, flatly.

I grew slightly frustrated at her lack of acknowledgment of this revelation.

“You know why i’m so laid back? Because I’m always anticipating the mystery within the mystery of life.  If a time traveler were to suddenly appear in our living room and say ‘i’m from the future, and I have a very important message from your future self’ I wouldn’t freak out… i’d take the holographic paper and know exactly what to do. It’s all part of the bigger mystery of life.”

Yarei took a long, drawn out sip of her intoxicating beverage and smacked her lips at its deliciousness.  She pushed the recline button and extended herself in the plush chair.

This is why i’m so laid back.”  Sluuurp

“WOMAN! Don’t you know what’s at stake here!” I pointed violently at the TV.

Yarei popped up from her recliner position like a jack-in-the-box.  “That’s it… i’m cutting you off and turning on gymnastics.”

In the background, an eerie 80’s synthesizer soundtrack trailed off in the distance as a lamp flickered off and on.

stranger 2

 

Desert Dancer

Once in a desert moon, you come across a movie of passion, romance, danger… which goes straight from the production studio to the “bargain movie bin” at the local Dollar Tree.  I’ve never seen the movie Desert Dancer, but I have a feeling it’s one of those underrated, boy-and-girl-vs-desert monster stories, with only their love and exotic dance moves to keep them alive.  Nothing could be closer to my wife, and lifetime dance partner, Yarei, and my story.    Between sand-bullet dodging pirouettes and roundhouse ballet kicks, we defy danger with songs of love, romance and left over dinner plans.  Our choreographed shoulder shimmy sends shock waves of love that pierce evil doers, reducing them to mere backup dancers in our Bollywood-worthy spectacles.   And as we approach the crescendo of our overdrawn dance-battle, the sand itself lifts us higher and higher into an epic dance-off spectacle even Cirque du Soleil would envy.  Death defying springs, twirls and a breath taking Dirty Dancing swan-dive-and-catch annihilates the desert monster, leaving us surrounded by the silence of the desert and the occasional rolling tumbleweed.  While The Good the Bad and the Ugly theme song plays quietly in the background, the camera zooms in on our war-torn, yet delicately glistening bronze countenances.  But the tender moment is abruptly halted by a violent rumbling in the horizon.  We turn our chiseled, perfectly proportioned faces toward the horrible sound and witness a dark, menacing cloud barreling toward us,  full of lightning, swirling mist and… sharks:  a Sharknado.

With looks of smug confidence we smile at each other, knowing Desert Dancer 2: Sharknado Dunes will be no match for us.  And as the screen fades to black, we twirl, back flip and cartwheel straight into heart of danger.

Happy Birthday, mi bella… so thankful for another year of dancing, dreaming and dodging sand bullets.

(for the prequel to Desert Dancer, check out Confesions of a Dance Floor Diva )

dancers3

Chip Rider

After a draining  eight-hour day followed by parent-teacher conference night, there’s nothing like surrendering your body’s weight to the embrace of the sofa… while reminiscing about commercials long gone with your equally exhausted luchadora.

Yarei sank into the recliner and stretched out her weary legs.  She leaned over the side and snatched up her bag of gluten-free, multigrain tortilla chips with much authority and allowed her mind to wander beyond the cares of the day.  Moments like these are special because they’re like ice skating while blindfolded… you never know what pattern you’ll make on the ice or how it will all end.

“You know what commercial I haven’t seen in a while?” she meandered with a loud crunch.

“Indulge me,” I crunched back.

“Double Mint Gum.” She paused, thought and munched another piece of salty, gluten-free goodness.  “Haven’t heard from them in a while.” She waved a chip in the air for emphasis.

Life sometimes throws us conversational curve balls like these, and when it does you have two choices. 1. Allow reason to take over and extinguish the moment with a look of confusion followed by an unintelligible “huh?” or 2. Volley back and keep the game alive.  I chose the road less traveled…and it made all the difference.

“You know what…” crunch!  “you’re right.”  And then, I volleyed back.  “You know who else I haven’t seen commercials for lately?”

“What’s that?” came her mouthful reply.

“Knight Rider.  Where’s he been? Whatever happened there?”

“Hmmm.” She cocked her head to one side and considered this revelation.  “Bet you don’t know the name of the car,” she jabbed a chip in my direction.

“Please, Yarei… let’s not go there.”

(For those unaware of my lovely wife’s track record with movie, TV and song quotes, I refer you to Analogies and Catch Phrase)

“Oh please… you think you know it and I don’t, blah blah blah,” she shot back in a mocking tone.

“That is absolutely what I think. So, humor me… what is the name of the car in Knight Rider?”

“Psshhh… easy.” She pulled out a perfectly shaped tortilla chipped and looked it over, as if the answer were written on it.        “Chip.”

“What?”

“Chip… that was the name of the car.  Like computer chips.  They were big in the 80s.”  She crunched with a smug look of confidence.

I’m not sure what cast more doubt on her face… my knee-jerk nasal snort or the abdominal-crushing laughter which followed.

After composing myself, I resumed.  “No,” snort  “It’s name was not Chip.

“Ok… then Kip.  Yeah, it was Kip.”

“No, that was Napoleon Dynamite’s brother.  But you’re getting warmer.”  I could see by the look in her eyes that the train was about to leave the tunnel.

She took a slow deliberate crunch which somehow reorganized the memory in her brain, like Tetris blocks lining up for a quadruple stack bonus.

“KITT!!!!” The answer ejected her out of the recliner as tortilla chips were sent flying everywhere.  She raised her hands like an Olympian crossing the finish line.

“Well done, Alex Trebek.  Once again you’ve made a mundane, pop culture trivia fact a comedy event for the world’s enjoyment.”

She motioned with two fingers towards her eyes and then towards me.  “Keep your eyes open, son… you never know when i’m gonna strike.”

       CRUNCH!

knight rider pic

 

 

New Year’s Memoir

from before the days Suburban Luchador burst on the scene, I present to you my New Year’s Eve Dialogue from 2013 when Elias, our first born, was 1 year old. Curl up next to your virtual yule log, grab a box of goldfish with the family and enjoy.

A New Year’s Eve dialogue, for those who have traded the thumping base, mini skirts and flashy drinks for cries of “more goldfish!” , cloth diapers, and the occasional St Croix mineral water splurge. You know who you are. It’s no use hiding under the thought that: “Maybe the baby will be stay up late tonight and then sleep in.” No.   He won’t.

“So… what do you want to do tonight, Yarei?”

“ARE YOU KIDDING!!!?? WE’RE GONNA PAARTEEE!” she pumped both party fists in the air, like she just didn’t care.

“Please stop yelling. The child is sleeping and this is our 2 hour sanctuary of peace.”

“Yes yes, Louie” she patted my head, using my party name. ” Tonight, we’re going to have the biggest party this house has EVER SEEN!” she announced to no one in the particular, arm extended and scanning the horizon, as if to defy her reality.

“Oh yeah? Well, that party better be ova by 10:30pm”

“NO WAY!! We’re going into the night! We’re going the distance!!” she began to sing… “LIFE IS A HIGHWAY, I WANNA RIDE IT ALL NIGHT LONG!”

“That’s nice. Well, the highway manager goes to bed at 8:30pm. He then reopens the highway of life at 645am, sometimes throughout the night to make sure his drivers are staying awake and alert… regardless of when we enter or exit party lane.”

“You don’t know, Louie… you just don’t know. It’s gonna be boomin’.” she mused, staring off into the distant 2014 and smiling at the party future that awaited her (at least until 10:30).

Happy New Year to you, the revelers who will be saying it at 10:30pm, but pretending it’s midnight. Here’s to you, you scandalous party animals who are awoken by “happy new year!” calls at midnight from the “wanna-be revelers” and then blame your sleepy voice on something other than being asleep for the past 2 hours: “Nah man, I wasn’t asleep. It’s been that good of a party!” only to be snitched on by a raspy voice croaking, “honey… who is that? You’ll wake the baby.”
There’s no shame in your game, my friends.

Keep on livin’ la vida parent.

eliasFB

 

Resolutions

In order to get a jump on my 2016 resolution to “Keep the Beach Bod the Good Lord Gave Me”, I decided to take advantage of an early wake up and go for a run while the family was still nestled in their night caps.   I knocked out my mile run at a blistering 12 minute pace and slipped into the shower without disturbing the still-slumbering Yarei.  I felt invigorated by my jump start and imagined myself running slow-motion on the beach, Selsun-Blue hair flowing in the wind,  laughing at the cares of the world.

After drying off and getting dressed, I stood in a triumphant ‘Superman Pose’ over my snoozing wife and waited for my presence to awake her.

“Mmmfff…what are you doing?” she grumbled while squinting.  No doubt my glory was too much.

“You have two more wishes” I replied.

“What are you… a genie?” she moaned in a raspy voice as she rubbed her sleepy eyes.

Hmm… her prolonged time of dormancy has dulled her ability to recognize the demigod standing before her.  

“Guess what I just did.” I announced in my best superhero voice.

“Get dressed?” she stretched her long arms and yawned.

“No.” I continued my barrel-chested pose.  “I went for a run… and my knee didn’t hurt, and my heart rate immediately returned to normal. I’m practically superhuman.”

“Mmm..” she took a sip of her nightstand water and sank back into her pillow.  “You know what I did?”

Anticipating her equally eager desire to get a jumpstart on her 2016 Resolution, I imagined Yarei doing ball slams, body squats, mountain climbers and short sprints while I was deep in slumber.

“Tell me!!” I squealed; excitement covered my face.

“I woke up.

 

       And so we conclude 2015 with newfound powers: Regeneration Man, with the power to run a mile at breakneck speed and return to pre-run state within minutes, and Wake Up Woman, with the power to rouse herself at will and zap opponents with her Dry Wit Ray while still in a state of drowsiness.


Thanks to all my Suburban Luchador readers for reading and sharing my stories.  I truly love writing  for all 18 of you and appreciate all your comments and feedback! Keep reading and sharing next year! My hope for each of you is:

May the Lord bless you
   and protect you.
May the Lord smile on you
    and be gracious to you.
 May the Lord show you his favor
    and give you his peace. (Numbers 6:24-26)

Confessions of a Dance Floor Diva (Part Two)

And now the conclusion of “Confessions of a Dance Floor Diva”

“Alright party people, we’ve got a special request coming up after this raffle… so let’s keep the dancing going!” the DJ spat into the mic as he pumped a party-fist in the air.

I scanned the room looking for my dance girl, but she had vanished.  Suddenly, the opening guitar tune for my song resounded through the speakers… it was time.  I frantically scanned the strobe lit room and spied Yarei near the dance floor.  In a swooping motion I circled around her like a lion hunting a gazelle and pulled her onto the dance floor.

Don’t you dare look back, just keep your eyes on me

She mouthed the words and looked intently into my eyes, index and middle finger pointing to her eyes,  then mine.  The gauntlet had been thrown.

I said you’re holding back

I mouthed back in defiance as we circled each other, locked in a stare down.

She said shut up and dance with me!

 Yarei fired back without missing a beat ,finding the weak spot in my dance armor as we locked hands, arms extended.  The room spun behind us.   We were victims of the night.

The red and white strobe lights had blinded me, so all I could do was imagine the throng around us, ready to lift us up on their shoulders as we approached the crescendo of the song.  We dazzled them with signature moves like the fish-on-a-hook and  the lawn mower as we danced around like a couple electrons…and the party floor was our atom.

The song reached the point where the crowd pumps their fist in the air in one defiant move, so I prepared to lift Yarei off the ground…

This woman is my destiny, she said Oh Oh                      SHUT UP AND DANCE!

With a frozen fist in the air, my eyes adjusted in time to realize we were the only electrons on the dance floor.  The mob that was supposed to hoist us triumphantly in the air was actually a crowd of onlookers at a bad car accident.  Time stood still; I stared at the onlookers with shock and slight concern as I could only hold my Dirty Dancing pose so long before we both came crashing down. I acted decisively and swung Yarei behind my back as the music resumed, ignoring my newfound lone-dancer reality.
Oh don’t you dare look back, just keep your eyes on me…

Carpe Shut Up, I thought… and we launched a triple-electron-shake-spin followed with an unsure  dip which flowed smoothly into the big finish: a semi-synchronized cheerleader victory pose with one foot in front of the other, knees slightly bent, index fingers to sky.  We locked eyes and held that pose for what some would consider an awkward amount of time, but our message was clear:

   This woman is my destiny… ooo ooo, SHUT UP AND DANCE WITH ME!

So Navidad begins

In true Yarei/Felipe fashion, my lovely wife cranks up the Christmas music at 12:01 am on November 1st, while I ask for at least a release from 90 degree weather before singing about winter wonderlands.

Yesterday, Yarei wanted to take advantage of the brief 79 degree cold front,  which blasted us for 3 hours before releasing its icy cold grip, to purchase our Christmas tree (earlier than we’ve ever purchased it, mind you).

Brrrr…” she exclaimed as she stepped outside the house and brushed the humidity out of her long, black hair.  “What a perfect day to get our family Christmas tree!”

“Since it’s November 20 and the high today is 83 degrees… I think all they’ll be selling at the tree lot are Christmas palm trees and plastic flamingos with Santa hats,” I reasoned, in hopes of preparing her for what was to come.

“It’s not a tree lot!  It’s a Christmas tree adoption center!! And those are Florida reindeer! ” she grinned as she stared out the window, visions of melting sugar plums dancing in her head.

so it begins

The Halloween Costume Analysis

I think one of the most insightful questions a person can ask their spouse is, “What  would be the perfect Halloween costume for me?”  Much can be exposed in this answer… both mysterious and profound.  Over a riveting Halloween lunch with the lovely Yarei, I discussed this primordial observation.

“I think a fitting Halloween costume for you would be either A. Pocahontas B.  If you have the baby strapped to your person, Sacagawea or C. A flamenco dancer.”  I let my analysis sink in, hoping she would understand the power, strength and elegance of the characters I chose… and silently expecting a similar analysis.

I struck my best “Roman Emperor posing for a triumphant sculpture” pose as I invited her analysis of my perfect Halloween costume.   Perhaps a brave Spanish explorer… or Zorro…or even an exotic Salsa singer.   I waited in anticipation.

She put her fist under her chin, cocked her head to the side and squinted at me in deep thought.  I could see the minions in her brain running back and forth through face recognition files, squealing with delight at the different options that popped up.  After a few seconds of waiting, I thought I would give her some help.

“In high school I was told I could be a stunt double for Prince.” I struck a Princely look.

“Ummm…” she considered the similarity, but clearly would need convincing.

“Look at my profile carefully then superimpose the songs Party Like it’s 1999 or Purple Rain…” I sang a quick chorus in an octave beyond my reach and paused, waiting for the resemblance to kick in.

“Yeah… no.”  She picked up on her analysis as if I had not just spoken.

I returned to my Emperor pose, now a little less sure of my conquest.

“I’ve got it!” she yelled in eureka-like fashion.     “If you dye your beard and hair white, you could be the guy from that meme!!”

“What?!”  I could see my Caesar bust crumbling.   “Who?”

“You know… the meme that says, ‘I never this and this, but when i do, I do this and that’… like ‘I never eat tacos, but when I do I eat them with a lot of cheese.”

“First of all, that’s a terrible example phrase.  Second, are you talking about the Most Interesting Man in the World guy from the Dos Equis beer commercial?”

“I don’t know who that is, but I do know the guy from that meme… and you’d be a dead ringer for him,” she said with satisfaction as she crunched a celery stick and then pointed it at me with it.

Confusion struck my frontal lobe.  On the one hand, being considered the most interesting man in the world is quite the compliment.  On the other, the fact that he is embodied by a man in his 60’s with white hair and beer bottles scattered in front of him is less flattering.

I decided this was one of those mysterious analyses that would require a little more thought.

“Ok… thanks… I guess.”  I poked at my guacamole in search for some type of answer.

“No problem, Louie.  That’s what i’m here for,” she crunched and gave me wink.

How I met my Luchadora

On this our anniversary week, I can’t help but recall our first encounter.

 
It was a crisp October eve in 2008, and a young adult ministry gathering was in full swing at the Crossing Church.  I selected the perfect jean jacket for the night, knowing anything could happen. 
I waited patiently, anxiously by the game wall for your arrival, trying to feign coolness as I played the latest incarnation of Mario Brothers on the PS3. After all, nothing says ‘cool and mysterious’ like a man engrossed in a video game.
I was about to acquire the flag in the depths of the warp zone, when a record scratch sound echoed   in the room. A disco ball dropped from out of no where and I glanced at the entrance. A vision of long legs and hip-hugging jeans entered the scene, and time slowed down.  You laughed silently as you made small talk with new acquaintances, but soon your laughter turned to intensity.  
     Our eyes met and my eyes widened like saucers.  You shot a look at me and mouthed the words:
“Don’t you dare look back… keep your eyes on me.”
 
You walked slowly toward me, seemingly gliding upon the star speckled floor. Murmurings about this mysterious woman stirred in the room.
 
In defiance to your womanly powers which were weakening me by the second like Superman wearing a kryptonite leotard, I lifted an eye brow and mouthed:
 
“You’re holding back.”
 
Without missing a beat you pursed her lips and shot out a slender, tanned arm, complete with hot red finger nails. An arrow flung out of your index finger and pierced my soul.
 
“Shut up and Dance with me!” you shouted with no mercy.
 
Suddenly, the crowd that had formed around us synchronized into a flash mob and sang in an angelic chorus,
 
“This woman is my destiny!”
 
I nodded to them as I was twirled about by this mysterious “t shirt and jeans” flamenco dancer and started to ask you your name.
 
“Who are y—“
 
“SHUT UP AND DANCE WITH ME!” you belted out, as my neck was nearly snapped by a sudden shift in dance direction. I was a leaf in a hurricane… a hurricane of love.
 
All i could do was look in your eyes as the background of the room spun around like the gravitron ride at the state fair. I was about to black out from the lack of blood to my brain, so I comforted myself with the thought,
 
“Deep in her eyes, I think I see a future…” and then the thud of a head smacking against a concrete floor.
And as I dreamed, or whatever one does during a mild concussion, I saw the following vision  flash across my mental screen.
 

I  love you, mi bella.  I’ll shut up and dance with you for life.

 

Yarei: The Wife, The Mother, The Stealth Warrior.

There are many things  I appreciate about my wife: the way she pours love into our home and children,  the way she scours the internet for free Redbox codes, the way she gently smiles at my elderly grandmother when she says, ‘you’ve gained weight!”…  the list goes on and on.  But there is one recent act of love and sacrifice that tops them all: for one night she transformed from my forever girlfriend to my Splinter Cell video game  battle buddy.

Now, to  paint an  accurate picture of the gravity of this situation, Yarei considers  the best video game to be Battle Toads, a cheap 90’s knockoff of  Teenage Ninja Mutant Ninja Turtles.  Same concept, but with  toads… it’s no wonder they never made it past a Sega Genesis  one-hit-wonder appearance.  Fast forward 20 years and Yarei  is still in the  “left, right,  jump , run” world of 2D video games, and proud of it.  So when I asked her to join me in a mission of Splinter Cell: Black List, a third person stealth game  which incorporates real world movement and action, she was noticeably hesitant.

After explaining the Xbox 360 controls to her, I placed  the controller  in her  hands as she muttered… “I don’t know about this.  Can’t we just play Mario Brothers… or Battle Toads, Louie?” (apparently my Gamer name).

“You’ll do fine.  Just remember… this is a stealth game.  The goal is to sneak around and only strike when necessary… otherwise, the baddies will alert the others and all Hades breaks loose.  Got it?”

She was fumbling with the combination of triggers, buttons, and knobs like a  toddler with a remote control.

“Yarei! I need to know you have my back! If i’m being held hostage, you have to be able to find me without being killed!” I could only hope she understood the seriousness of the mission.

“Yes, yes” she finally said out of frustration.

The level we selected was a weapon smugglers compound in Pakistan.  Our mission was to neutralize all hostiles and destroy the weapons.  I instructed Yarei to use the electric shock gun to stun enemies because that required less aim. I also didn’t want to incite unnecessary killing in her tender heart.

“Ok… but what’s this other gun for?”

“That’s the shot gun… that one’s really loud and will  kill anything within a close radius of your position.”  I paused to make sure she understood this, only to notice her eyes widened a bit.  “Let’s not use that one.”

The mission began.  Yarei took  a couple practice shots with the stun gun and was ready for action.

“See that guard over there?  Crouch behind the rock and take him out! I’ll sneak toward the left.”

I was surprised at her agility and somewhat shocked at the precision of her first shot.  Down went the guard, leaving an open path for me.

“YEAH!!!”  she shouted, as if she had just wiped out an entire army.

“Shh… the kids!!” but it was too late.  Something had awoken inside  her that I could not contain.

In her excitement, she moved from behind the rock and started charging   toward a group of mercenaries huddled behind a car.  She was quickly terminated.

“OK… remember, the goal is stealth and stun. No unnecessary killing.”

“Yeah, yeah” she responded, eyes glued to the TV ; a slight twitch on her trigger finger.

The next round began and I instructed her to follow the same plan.  In one sweeping motion she crouched, aimed and downed the guard.  I started moving to the left when suddenly I heard a loud explosion coming from Yarei’s position.  She had switched to the shotgun and was charging toward the   group of mercenaries.

“BLAM BLAM!!! TAKE THAT YOU SUNAVA–”

“Yarei!! You’re going to wake the children!!”

“BAHAHAHAHA!!”She let out a blood-curdling laugh as  she broke through enemy lines, taking heavy fire herself from soldiers   that had been alerted by her shot gun frenzy.    My sweet wife had snapped and transformed into a one-woman army with a Die-Hard death wish.   I moved to her position and quickly took out her assailants with multiple rapid fire shocks.     Once secure, I tried to regain control of the situation as we crouched behind the bullet riddled   vehicle.     The smell of gunpowder filled the virtual air.

Yarei breathed  heavily.  A wild-eyed look on her face.

“Me LIKE the shot gun!!” she exclaimed, eyes fixed on the TV in a trance-like state.  “I can’t believe you wanted me to use that hair-dryer gun.  This is war, not a hair salon.”

I took the control from her hands and switched her back to the shock gun.  “Yarei… this isn’t the type of game you just run-and-gun. It takes strategy and skill to plan and exe–”

*CLICK CLICK*– it was too late.  She had already switched back to the shot gun and charged brazenly  toward   two heavily armed guards posted by a weapons cache.  She release another battle cry as she plowed into the spray of bullets, letting off two rounds before  she succumbed to her wounds.

“WHERE THE HELL WAS MY BACKUP?!!” She yelled, shocking me with her un-mommylike language and jabbing her controller at the TV.  I gazed at her, dumbfounded.  Her eyes were wide as saucers and her hands had a death grip on the controller.  Heavy breathing echoed off the walls as her chest heaved up and down.

After her adrenaline had settled she sat back in the couch.  “Whoa…that was like drinking a cup of straight black coffee with a triple shot  of espresso” she said with a slight stutter.

“Maybe we should stop” I cautioned, putting a calming hand on her  jittery controller.

A maddened look crossed her face. “NO!  You saw what they did to me… those–”

“Shhhhh… it’s ok… just… let… go.”

I pried the controller out of her hands and slowly put it down.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.  I don’t think I can handle that, Louie.  I don’t know what came over me when I got the shot gun,” she said as she stared off into the distance.

I snapped my fingers to get her to make eye contact and cupped her face in my hands.

“Let’s find you a nice game of Battle Toads, k?”

yarei gamer meme

 

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