Cold clammy hands crawl over a warm controller.
Palms sweaty, curse words at the ready.
FUCK!
You fire off the heavy artillery.
It's a little soon, but you've been at it
Since the crack of noon.
It sweats Dorito dust.
It still has scars from all the times you made him fly.
It knows those two Duracells won't last long.
That thing in your hand has been slaving all day,
Those worn rubber joysticks screaming for more,
Ready to ride that roller coaster once more.
And those Buttons,
Half cocked, from frantic mashing, bashing.
And you hear it again:
Boom!
Shwing!
Kakakakakak!
Boosh!
Onomonopias,
They flow into one another.
MOTHERFUCKER!
There was no way in the deepest pits of hell
That you were struck down by another
GODDAMN
Fireball.
