This is something that was on my old blog, which i thought I’d move over to this one:
My letter to Gamepro
Gamepro magazine is having a “Letter of the Month” contest, the winner getting an X-Box 360. Now, I don’t even really want an X-Box 360, as I’m waiting for the Playstation 3. BUT, if I have a shot at getting one for free, I’m gonna take it. So here it is, my entry for Letter of the Month.
Dear Gamepro,
I was reading the letters page in your magazine, all of which were people complaining about not being able to get an X-Box 360 at launch. All of these letters were basically people whining that they wanted the system but couldn’t get it. Basically, it had no effect on their lives at all. They were just disappointed. For them, I have one simple piece of advice: consider yourselves lucky. For while not being able to get your hands on the new piece of standard gaming equipment may have caused you some sadness, and possibly even caused you to shed a tear, you all still have your health and you will one day be able to enjoy life again. I, however, am not so lucky. My quest to obtain a 360 on launch day set forth a chain of events that has forever and irreversibly changed my life in ways that you could not have predicted in a thousand years. They say that if you set up a thousand typewriters with a thousand monkeys, in a thousand years, the law of averages says that one of the monkeys will eventually type “Hamlet.” Well, I’m willing to bet that no matter how amazing a monkey you chose, be it Lancelot Link: Secret Chimp, Grape Ape, or even that freaky germ infected monkey from Outbreak, you will never, ever, hear a tale so filled with terror, bad luck, and horrible consequences.
I awoke bright and early on the day the X-Box was due to launch, determined to get my hands on one of the systems. I believed that if I arrived early enough, I would be on line at a good enough point that I could procure my own system. I went to bed the night before, dreaming of photorealistic boxing matches in Fight Night Round 3, fighting the nefarious Nazi’s in Call of Duty 2, and having a new center of my home entertainment system. I awoke from that dream tired, but determined to succeed in my journey.
I hastily threw on my clothes and left my apartment at 2am, getting into my truck and driving to the nearest consumer electronics superstore, which will remain nameless. There, I was greeted by sever people who were already in line. Many of them had been on-line for days. However, I felt my odds of getting a system were still fairly decent, especially since three of the people on line thought that the line was for the release of Star Wars in 3-D.
As the hours passed, I kept warm with thoughts of cutting edge graphics and unparalleled game play. Finally, the moment arrived, and the store opened for business. It all took roughly three minutes. The store opened, they sold three units, and announced they were out of stock. Three units!?! It turns out that the majority of the 360s the store received were sold to the employees, and us hardcore gamers who were willing to brave the elements were left out in the cold. Frantically, I drove from store to store in the off chance that I could find one. I went to every store in the area, begging, pleading, following every rumor, leaving no hint unexplored. As the sun began to set, I realized that my task was hopeless. I would not be getting an X-Box 360 on that day.
In a haze, barely able to see through my teary eyes, I began to drive home. Something darted out in front of me, my blurred vision not quite able to make out what it was. It was moving too fast for my eyes to register what exactly it was, and maybe it was just a delusion brought on through my ordeals, but I could have sworn it was a small blue animal with red sneakers on.
In any event, I swerved to miss the almost super-sonic creature and crashed my car into a tree. After checking to make sure I was still alive, I got out of my car to observe the damage. There was no way I was driving this heap home. The collision had caused sever damage to the engine and I was lucky to be alive. I knew I was alive, because it was impossible for a dead body to hurt this much. Barely able to stand, I tried to signal for help, and breathed a sigh of relief when a car pulled up besides me.
A group of teenagers got out and surveyed the area. Realizing there was nobody else within miles, they group of hoodlums attacked me like a pack of hyenas, laughing and mocking me as they tossed me about and pummeled me about the head. The tossed me up against their car and as my face pressed against the back window of their car, I saw it. An X-Box 360 in the back seat. What kind of a God creates a world where a group of criminals and ruffians can get their hands on this system when a law abiding man like myself was shut out? All of the fight going out of me, I collapsed to the ground, my will to live almost completely gone.
It barely registered in my brain as one of the hooligans reached into my back pocket, taking out my wallet and removing all of the money I had saved up to purchase my X-Box 360 and at least four games at launch. Barely conscious, the only thing keeping my alive my instinct for survival, I crawled my way home.
Once home, I wallowed in despair. I had lost all of my money. My car was destroyed. I had been beaten senseless. I no longer saw the point in continuing this life. Needing a shoulder to cry on, but having made no friends because I spent all of my time playing video games in my apartment instead of interacting with the human race, I decided I would call the Suicide Hotline. There, surely, I would find a friendly voice. Somebody to console my and convince me that my life was indeed worth living. Barely able to stay conscious, my eyes covered in the stereotypical blood, sweat and tears, I picked up my phone and began to dial. Somewhere along the line I made a horrible mistake, as instead of the Suicide hotline, I reached the Nike Hotline. They told me to “Just Do it.”
Convinced that I should end my life, I pulled out my credit card and headed down to the local pawn shop in the poor section of time, looking to end my life. I asked the seedy looking man behind the counter for a gun. He sold it to me for what was, coincidentally enough, the exact amount of credit I had left on my card. It didn’t matter. I wouldn’t need a line of credit with a low interest rate where I was going.
Not wanting to die in my apartment, I made my way to the back parking lot of a large supermarket. It was a chain store that began my descent into madness, it would be at another chain store where I met my end. Saying a silent goodbye to my family and my poor cat Sammie, I put the gun up to my face and, with a final prayer begging for forgiveness, I closed my eyes and squeezed the trigger.
A feeling of intense pain shot through my face almost immediately. I fell to the ground, the gun falling out of my hands and landing on the pavement. My hand instinctively went to my eye, the source of the agony. However, what I felt could not have been a gunshot wound. And where, I asked myself, was the sound of the gun going off. Cautiously, I opened my eyes and looked. My hand was covered in blood, but not from the entry of a bullet entering my skull and slicing through my brain tissue, sending me into sweet oblivion. I looked at the gun I had purchased and almost fainted from the sheer horror. The gun I had purchased was not a real gun at all. Instead of discharging live ammunition, the only thing that sprang forth from this gun was a little flag with the word “BANG!” written on it in a cartoon font. How could I have been so foolish? Why didn’t I recognize the idiotic giggling of the proprietor of that house of ill repute where I purchased what I believed to be the ticket to my everlasting peace? Not believing I could possibly be that gullible, I fell to the ground in a heap and passed out.
When I awoke, I was in bed in a place I did not recognize. It turns out I was found by a kindly women, who, in a rare display of compassion and human kindness, managed to wrestle me into her car and took me to her house, where she began to nurse me back to health. Like something out of a bad romance novel, we were quickly in love, and were married a mere week after I regained consciousness in the home of this angel of mercy.
Once I was able to, I went to my local police precinct to inquire about the whereabouts of my car, as well as fill out a complaint against the group of sadistic teenagers who had beaten me half to death and robbed me of my money. I told the clerk at the front desk my name, and she looked at me with disgust. Perhaps she couldn’t handle the image of a bruised and beaten, one eyed gamer? I took a seat and awaited for somebody to take my statement. I noticed that for some reason,. Nobody would look at me, or even come within ten feet of me.
Finally, an officer came into the room and grabbed me by the arm, yanking me to my feet and taking me off into the back. I tried to ask what was going on, but was immediately slapped and told to be quiet. I was then taken in a police car to a local hospital. There, I was strapped down to a table, much to my dismay. The next thing I knew, there was a group of doctors and policemen around me, holding em down as one of them brandished a needle so huge, you would normally have to take a trip to Seattle to see it. Panicking, I passed out from the sheer terror enveloping my body. When I awoke, I was forever changed.
It seems that a man who was a convicted pedophile had a very similar name to mine, and rather than go to jail, he had worked out a deal to be chemically castrated, thus rendering him harmless and removing his urge to prey on defenseless children. Before I could explain that I was not, in fact, this vile man, the procedure was performed on me. Sadly, the effects are irreversible.
It didn’t take long before every lawyer in the state was knocking on my door. I was awarded a settlement of several million dollars for my ordeal. I now had the kind of money that would allow me to, at last, purchase an X-Box 360 from the jackals on Ebay. I would pay more than the system was worth, but after my series of recent events, I was willing to pay any price. However, it was not to be. You see, since I was now castrated, I was no longer able to satisfy my wife, both physically, as well as emotionally, since children were all she ever dreamed of. She wanted children almost as badly as I wanted to play Halo 3. She divorced me and, of coarse, got all the money.
So here I am. I have no wife. I have no car. I have no way to ever engage in sexual activity again. I’m broke. I am missing an eye. And I forever will be known as a predator of weak and defenseless children. I had hit rock bottom.
Some people, in their hour of greatest crisis, turn to drugs. Some people turn to religion. I turned to Gamepro magazine. And that’s where I saw it: my one last chance at anything resembling happiness. You asked for letters explaining why your readers deserved an X-Box 360 for free. The best letter would get the prize. While others have faced disappointment, I have had my life absolutely shattered. Please, if you have any sense of compassion in you at all, send me an X-Box 360. It won’t erase the past, but it just might give me a glimmer of hope for the future.
John Ferrigno
