Last evening, when 5pm hit, I ran out of work as soon as I could leaving a whirlwind of papers and more than a couple of spinning chairs in my wake. Kind of like if I were using Marathon and Lightweight Pro, no Commando though, that’s bullshit. I was off to pick up a copy of the newly released Call of Duty: Black Ops! Oh the excitement.
Upon visiting the first few stores, I quickly discovered a gigantic problem: most of the city was sold out. I scoured every electronics store in town, but came up empty handed. I cursed myself for not pre-ordering. Noob, pwned, FML and various other online nerdisms flashed through my head.
As one last resort, I went to an old video store down the street from me and as I entered I saw they sold games. I asked the old storekeeper, “Sir, I know it’s a long shot, but do you have any copies of Call of Duty: Black Ops?”
He scratched his head, “I’m really not sure, son.”
How could he not be sure!?! I grabbed him with both hands by the collar, shook him and cried, “I need Black Ops! I need it.”
He smiled. “Alright kiddo, let me look in the back room and see what I can find.”
After more than a few minutes he returned from the back room with a bag. He tapped the object in the bag, “Black Ops,” he said. “Only copy left in the store. Let me ring it up for you.”
I reached for the bag excitedly, but he held it away from me. “I must warn you, son, this is for mature audiences.”
“I know I know. Graphic content, explicit language, blah blah blah.” I grabbed the bag, slapped $80 on the table and ran out. I could hear him yelling down the street that I’d forgot my change. I didn’t care. I had Black Ops and I was almost home.
When I got home and tore open the bag, I realized a grievous error had occurred. The old man had made an honest mistake and had given me the wrong game. Instead of Call of Duty: Black Ops, he gave me…