He plugs a box to view color.
Flicks the thumbstick to hover.
Stops occasionally at a certain option.
Presses “A” to set motion.
Then appears Graphics galore
Lures and entices him more…
He chooses Difficult for hardcore,
Where enemies are as mighty as Thor.
To prepare his mind.
He braces himself
For a grueling grind.
Sound effects fill the air
Blood, violence and gore…
Presses harder… faster…
Moves more without care.
I stand back and watch.
I believe I should be furious
But I let him beat The Temptress,
The game’s villainous empress.
He’s hooked like a fish to bait.
He can’t move; he can’t stop.
He can’t let go; he dares not…
Unaware that the hour is late.
He is utterly savage!
That is, on game screen.
I wouldn’t be bothered, though.
He’s innocent of sin.
He plays these games to his heart’s content.
I let him be; he has my consent.
For at least he comes home to be with me,
Thankful that I still have his loyalty.
I’d rather let him play like a teenager
Than see him playing with Mistress Danger.
As long as he has a game to play,
I know that with me, he chooses to stay.
For as long as the heroine carries my name
I let him finish the game.
Perhaps I’ll pick up the other controller
And play alongside his character.