freakboy classics: THE GAME

My dad passed away in March of 2022 and today would’ve been his birthday.  So, here is one of my old “tales from the freakboy zone” emails from 2008 all about a nice moment with my dad…

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THE GAME

 

Truth be told, I continue to be an early/mid-1980’s boy living in an Atari 2600 world.  As a matter of fact, Margaret and I occasionally dig out and dust off that antique gaming system and test our more “mature” hand-eye coordination and stamina.

 

I still leave her in the dust on Megamania.  She will almost always beat me at Video Pinball.  We level the playing field with our equal and eloquent suckiness in maneuvering Pac-Man!

 

But back then, back in those toe-tally awesome years, if someone had told me that I would one day play a video game with my father, I would have laughed the delusional fool out of the decade!

 

Flash-forward to Wednesday, January 30th, 2008, the impossible became reality.

 

After an out-of-town doctor appointment, my father and I had the opportunity to fiddle with that new-fangled contraption called Nintendo Wii.  There we were, me in my thirties, him in his seventies, playing a game of bowling, a controller replacing the ball and no shoe rentals!

 

We soon grew accustomed to swinging the controller as if we were really swinging a ball, and releasing a button at the moment we would have normally sent a physical bowling ball down the lane.  It was fun, plain and simple!

 

Together, as father and son, we were initiated into the 21st Century and its virtual playground.  For a change, technology closed the age gap instead of expanding it.

 

FYI: My dad won, 127 to 93.  Hhhmmm…maybe this gaming system reversed the age gap.

 

1/30/2008

 

John L. Harmon

freak under control 

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Thank you for reading or listening to my half-blind words. 

Freak Out, 

JLH 

P.S. click the pic ⤵️ for another tale about my dad…

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Bubba’s Truck is a very short story that may make you tear up a bit and is available as a very short ebook from an Amazon near you. 

Rubber Duck Lips

 (a tale of my dad)

"I can see something is wrong from here." 

This is what I said to my sister, many years ago,  as we watched our dad approach from inside the fast food restaurant.  My sister warned me that our dad had experienced a prominent allergic reaction to a new medication, but nothing prepared me for the protruding sight coming closer and closer. 

I didn't just stare when our dad entered the restaurant, I gawked.  I gaped.  I couldn't take my eyes off of our dad's swollen lips.  They weren't just fat lip swollen.  They were the after photo in a precautionary ad for botched plastic surgery swollen.  Joan Rivers would've been envious of his extremely full lips.

Just when I felt a rumble of laughter threatening to erupt, our dad thankfully told us what he wanted for lunch and found us a table.  While in line, I made a few one word exclamations and then asked her if he was in pain.  He wasn't but it had to feel weird.  I mean, seriously, his lips appeared to be at the bursting point. 

We got our lunch and joined Dad at a booth.  Dad was across from me and this provided the opportunity for a closer examination of his obvious allergic reaction.  It was then when I realized his upper lip was pushing up in the middle and his lower lip was pushing down, not unlike a rubber duck.  Another rumble of laughter threatened to out me as a horrible son, so I looked away.  Even staring out the window while eating didn't stop the rumbling.  All I could see if I had to glance in his general direction and all I could think when turned away was...Rubber Duck Lips. 

Later, when alone with my sister, I laughed loudly and a lot.  (I still laugh hysterically about it to this day and wish I had a photo)  I think I foun this terrible thing so terribly funny because of the bath toy association and because our dad appeared unfazed by his temporary condition.  (Yes, his lips eventually deflated back to their normal shape and size)  I don't think I would want to be seen in public if that happened to me, let alone eat in view of others.  Maybe it's his generation, but he doesn't seem easily embarrassed, which causes me endless embarrassment.  Like the time he wore that bear shirt to Stockman's Cafe, but that's another tale for another time.

Thank you for reading or listening to my half-blind words.

Freak Out, 

JLH 

P.S. An old tale hinting at another tale of my dad...

https://freakboyzone.blogspot.com/2016/03/only-happy-when-its-1995.html 

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Go dark!

Visit Sturgeons! 

Get bent! 

Freak out! 

My books & blogs...

http://thejlhcollective.blogspot.com/2018/03/the-collective.html