About as Important as a Bee on the Bumwax of a T-Rex

                So the other day at work, I was standing glazed eyed behind my cash register while an overly angry parent explained to me that she wanted to return a video game because it just “wasn’t as good as they thought it was going to be.”  I was there.  I swear I was.  But my brain was pretty much perusing exotic mushrooms in Wonderland.  This whole situation was just about as important to me as a bee on the bumwax of a T-Rex.  Bumwax.  That’s a fun word.  I don’t know what it means, or whether it’s real or not but I’m going to use it.

                “Sixty dollars.  I spent sixty dollars on this item that I have obviously used because I am talking about it in great detail.”

                Anyway, I have this skill.  It’s like magic.  I’m able to take the blibbering of anyone that comes up to that cash register to complain to me and just drown it out.  It’s like that annoying neighborhood dog that barks at anything that moves.  You know it’s doing it.  You know it’s really annoying.  And most importantly, you know that you want to kick it all the way into the stone age, but you just can’t thanks to those damn social norms. 

                “Then he just took out the gun and the alien died.  What kind of message are you trying to send by selling this?  That killing aliens is real?  I don’t want my son growing up thinking that an alien invasion could happen any-“

                So I stood there, while she barked away at me about I dunno bad graphics or something?  Eh.  Unimportant.  What was really important at the time was what kind of superpower I’d have if I was a super villain.  You see, most people think of what they’d have if they were a super-HERO.  No no no no no.  Let’s just close that road down and set up a detour to coolville.  See the villains get minions, badass costumes, and generally awesome powers.  But what would mine be?

                “No, I don’t want another game I just want my money back because I wanted to just play this game for free then bitch about it until-“

                I guess the best way to choose one would be to just like picture someone that I really didn’t like and figure out what the most satisfying way to dispatch them would be.

                “So after I beat the game, I put it back in again just to see if maybe I missed something-“

                While zombies rose out of the ground ready to devour this lady’s brains and then defile her corpse in the most comical way possible, my manager was coming to her rescue hopping onto her register to give this lady exactly what she wanted. 

                As the lady stormed off in a huff I said exactly what was on my mind.  “They would call me Doctor Styx!  Because of the river!”

                Happy Fourth of July everyone,

                                Costello

A Factory Reject.

                 So a little while back I submitted this for a freelance job at a big fancy blog.  Long story short, I guess that they did not like it.  I still thought it was pretty funny, so here's a factory reject for you guys.  Hope it's better than they seemed to think it was.

The Lights are on, but Nobody's Home.

                I work in a video game store.  I see parents coming in all the time with their kids.  Oh the kids I have seen!  Oh the parents I have laid eyes on!  Every once in a while though, there’s that gem.  That one event that the gods allow me to bear witness to that just fills me with glee.  It’s like that moment when a screaming little girl on an airplane finally gets yelled at.  Those little moments when I realize that these parents know what they’re doing.  They pull out their six shooters and finally say to those kids “Okay buddy.  Make your move.”  Then they shoot without warning.  This was one of those times.  I wish that I had brought popcorn.

                The other day a young dad and his thirteen year oldish son came into the store that I work at.  “I want that one dad.”  The kid said to his father with that slight eye roll I had seen so many times working around video games.  This was a kid who totally expected to get exactly what he demanded.  I’ve seen plenty of doormat parents and I obviously assumed “Why sure little man!” was going to pour forth from the mans mouth. 

                There’s something that happens to the parents of teenagers.  A switch gets flipped somewhere in their heads.  Eventually, dealing with those little buggers becomes a bit too much.  I have to agree.  There are only so many times that a greasy, pimply, rotted out fruit of my loins could demand that the world be handed to him on a silver platter before I pulled out an uzi on him/her. 

                I was quite mistaken when I assumed that this dad was going to give his son that video game.  I was, in fact, about to witness a monumental event in their relationship.  I was about to witness the flipping of the switch.  Excitement consumed me.  I saw the tell tale signs.  Dad put on that overly happy face.  His smile dripped sarcasm and when his gaze met his son there were sparks.  Sparks of joy.  This was his chance to finally lay into that little beasty.

                “Well I want you to get a job.” 

                AAAAAAAH!  There it was!  Yes!  I literally stepped out from behind my counter and gave him a high five.  I kid you not.  I get a lot of parents in the store that I work at.  We sell video games.  It’s a given.  Never had I seen a devil-child dealt with so swiftly and with such tact!

                The kid was dumbfounded.  This was entirely new territory for him.  It was sort of like a light bulb flickered for a moment.  I would assume that it’s about the same feeling that a caveman had the first time he realized fire was hot.

                “Hey Ugh.  Why don’t you stick your hand into that pretty light.”

                “Why what a fantastic idea, Gorg.  I will indeed place my extremity into this wonderful warm light.  What could possibly go wrong?”

                Pain.  Silence.   A general feeling of “The lights are on but nobody’s home.”

                Really the only difference between the caveman and this young lad was that the caveman in this example only made his mistake once.  This kid went back for seconds.  I have to hand it to dear old dad though.  He stuck to his guns.

                I think that we can all learn something by looking at these parents.  Sometimes while visualizing how we will push them off cliffs, we forget that these children are our future.  In an effort to stave off an entire population of sarcastic, lazy, mouth breathers, maybe it would be a good idea to throw a little of their snark straight back at them.  Maybe then they’ll learn.  Just maybe.

     So what do you guys think?

                  -Costello