Game Pastas Are Stupid: Difference between revisions
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When I got to Richard’s house, he greeted me in a state of horror.
His voice trailed off into a whimper.
I followed him inside, into his living room. There, he had the game system hooked up to the TV.
I took a look. I wasn’t exactly sure what the screen normally should’ve looked like, since I never played the game myself, (chalk that up to parents who weren’t exactly the biggest fans of video games not buying them for me as a kid) but what I saw…wasn’t scary at all. It just said
He whimpered, which I took to be a yes.
I took the controller, selected the
…and the background changed to a hellish wasteland. Fires dotted the background, and the sky was black as night.
Richard screamed, and I exclaimed,
I continued playing the game, jumping on koopas (that’s what Rich said they’re called; honestly, I didn’t give a shit), which exploded into blood and gore. I personally found it kind of cool at first, but after a while it got boring. It got even more annoying when Rich yelped every time I killed one of the little bastards.
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Soon enough, I ended up dying by falling down a pit. I heard Mario scream in pain. Rich howled along with him, tears in his eyes.
I facepalmed. Hard.
He was so invested in his insane rant that he didn’t notice when I walked to his kitchen, rummaged through his drawers and cabinets, found a hammer, took the cartridge out of the game system, and smashed it to bits with the hammer.
Rich’s only reply was to cry, and scream to heavens,
Some days, I have no idea why I put up with this man.
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