Let the wookie win
Bevan, Andy and I stayed up until 4 in the morning recently playing Super Smash Brothers on Nintendo. A productive use of our time, to be sure, but hey what are college students to do but stereotypically waste their precious youthful hours with eyes glazed over, thumbs madly flying and yelling at a TV screen?
Anyway, it soon became apparent that Andy was not really on his game. Bevan and my victories continued to accrue as Andy's rage level similarly accrued to dangerous levels.
As per usual, at first he began muttering various combinations of "god" "shit" and "fuck" under his breath. Examples: "shit fuck shit," "fucking fuck god fuck," etc. Soon, however, his voice rose and phrases like "Bryan if you god mother fucking shit me one more time I will FUCK YOU" would accompany a controller fling or a fist to the couch.
I should say that Andy has always been a true gentleman, polite and considerate. Once in a while, however, a rage consumes him during the heat of competition, and he transmorgifies into an unrecognizable beast. This is his weakness that, ironically, gives him a terrifying strength that could engulf any nearby bystanders who unluckily encounter this unfettered wrath.
At one point, Bevan leaned close to me and whispered, "Let... the wookie... win." echoing the famous advice given to R2D2 by his loyal pal C-3P0. A game later, Andy won a match and we went to bed, weary but satisfied... and perhaps most importantly for Bevan and I, alive.
Did we let Andy win? Certainly we wouldn't stoop to such a level of pure self-preservation when video game honor was at stake. But it's perhaps always good to keep in mind that if he loses badly enough, a wookie will pull your arms out of their sockets.
Anyway, it soon became apparent that Andy was not really on his game. Bevan and my victories continued to accrue as Andy's rage level similarly accrued to dangerous levels.
As per usual, at first he began muttering various combinations of "god" "shit" and "fuck" under his breath. Examples: "shit fuck shit," "fucking fuck god fuck," etc. Soon, however, his voice rose and phrases like "Bryan if you god mother fucking shit me one more time I will FUCK YOU" would accompany a controller fling or a fist to the couch.
I should say that Andy has always been a true gentleman, polite and considerate. Once in a while, however, a rage consumes him during the heat of competition, and he transmorgifies into an unrecognizable beast. This is his weakness that, ironically, gives him a terrifying strength that could engulf any nearby bystanders who unluckily encounter this unfettered wrath.
At one point, Bevan leaned close to me and whispered, "Let... the wookie... win." echoing the famous advice given to R2D2 by his loyal pal C-3P0. A game later, Andy won a match and we went to bed, weary but satisfied... and perhaps most importantly for Bevan and I, alive.
Did we let Andy win? Certainly we wouldn't stoop to such a level of pure self-preservation when video game honor was at stake. But it's perhaps always good to keep in mind that if he loses badly enough, a wookie will pull your arms out of their sockets.
