If Life Was Like a Game

If only life was like a video game. A virtual reality of our own. Free of troubles, free of consequences or punishments. You can be whatever you want.

Wanna shoot aliens like a Colonial Marine from space? Sure! Get rich fast? No problem! Just beat up someone in a random match and get their loot. Or just steal it. And if life ever gets difficult, the good old up, down, left, right, B, A and start got you covered. That’s a cheat code BTW for the newbies out there. But, yeah, what kid wouldn’t want things easy?

Real life can be a boring routine where nothing happens, maybe only when it happens to someone else. Sure, every once in a while some famous old fart dies in the news and things get a little amusing, but half the time I don’t even know who they are anyway. Or watching grownups fighting on TV. Like, half the time I can’t understand or care about the government and stuff, but the guy in charge this time up in the big house is a hoot to watch. The memes just write themselves.

But aside from that, the long seasons in between a couple good movie releases get a little dull. So life being a game? Yeah, I’d never have a reason to go back inside. The world would be my own simulator. But really, that’s what everyone would want. Me? Oh no no. I’d want it for a different reason.

You know how sometimes in games you got the little guy take a bullet or two or jump off a building but just get up and brush it off, because "technically" your health bar is still half full? Or the skinny dude beating up the other big, tall dude in fighting games? Yeah, I wanna be that guy. In fact, I kinda am that guy, but without the video game part of it.

So, here's the deal: big bully Michel (It's actually a guy, he's just French and has one of those gender-bending names) wants to pick up a fight with me at school because apparently, he heard a rumor going around of me saying stuff about him and his inhaler, that it's how he practices sucking "other" stuff. But obviously, it's not true. My friends can testify for me, cuz, well honestly, I've been spending most of my lunchtime being tutored by Mrs. Tabitha in math, which even though I hate it, it still proves that I didn’t have the time to go gossiping during school. Anyway, Michel probably doesn’t even care and just wants to use this as an excuse. Everyone knows he doesn’t like me, and he’ll probably jump on the opportunity to have his fist smashing my face.

He told me coated in a weird Frenchie accent, “I better not see you on Monday, or I’ll beat your fagoot ass in front of everyone.” It wasn’t until later I realized that by fagoot he meant faggot, but part of me likes to think fagoot is some French way of saying “pretty.”

So was I scared? Oh yeah, but Michel and I have had our, what they call “quarrels” before. I kinda knew what I was getting myself to, so it was only a matter of time this guy wanted to fight me. He’s not even that much bigger than me, or even look as beefy as those others school bullies you see in cartoons. But I was still kinda scared of the pain you know? I’ve never actually been in a fight before, so this was going to be a whole new experience.

I talked to my dad about it, and well, rather than doing the logical thing of calling the school or the other kid's parents, he gave the good old advice of “If you’re gonna fight, don’t go down like a wuss, try to smack some licks on him too.” Yup, prime parenting right there. You see, this is how kids like me end up becoming bullies and grow to become that shady guy you see in dark alleys smelling discount preschool glue cuz it makes them feel good about themselves. Well, what he lacks in good advice he makes up in other things, like allowance and fishing trips in the summer. I still love my old man.

So when my father’s advice fell short I tried asking my friend James about what to do, while we were playing a round of Mortal Combat on Saturday at my place. While we clicked the controllers furiously trying to do pull off some combos he said “Well dude, I think you’re screwed. Like, if you wuss out and don’t show up everyone at school will think you’re a coward. And being friends with a coward isn’t good for my rep.”

Reacting in frustration I pressed the buttons harder. "What rep? You're only known in school as that obese kid that ate 50 eggs from the cafeteria without vomiting after copying that old movie, Cool Hand Luke we watched during film arts class.”

“Yup, and I wanna keep it that way.” He replied I couldn’t tell if he was serious about it cuz we were too glued to the TV screen, but given how teenagers like us love to grasp at any sort of attention, this probably meant the world to him.

“Aww shit! Come on! You have me trapped in the corner!” I protested slamming my controller on the floor as I saw him juggling my character’s lifeless body in the air against the edge of the screen. It’s a cheap trick in fighting games where you give your opponent zero chance to move by spamming attacks over and over in a tight space. Luckily it was just Round One, so Scorpion here got up and brushed aside his digital blood off with the puddles of it on the floor.

With an amused stare, I said, "See, why can't we do stuff like that? Just get up and keep fighting when we should be dead after all the stab wounds.”

"Because then the game would be too short, dummy.”

“Okay yeah, but you’re beating me up with someone that doesn’t look like they could lift a hammer. Wouldn’t it be cool if I could do that?”

“Well cuz, all the characters have to be as strong as each other or it wouldn’t be fair. You think you could take Michel with that advantage?”

Not surprisingly, he figured out what I was projecting here. “Yeah I think I could, it’s all about the skill.”

“Well, he’s not that much bigger than you. I guess you could probably take him if you played your cards right,” he added.

And I thought, sure, maybe I can’t survive bullet wounds or cracking bones the same way in a game, but just like a game, it was still a fair fight. In hindsight, I guess I was feeling a little scared to realize this.

So eventually, Monday came, and he was waiting for me. It was during lunch time, he stood in the middle of the yard glaring, screaming my name as soon as he saw me, like some sort of psycho.

It didn’t take long for the other kids to take notice and circle around us to witness like a crowd about to watch a pair of chimpanzees go at it at the zoo, all the while James just stood behind me trying to prep me up.

“Okay, listen,” James said to me. “He’s some idiot that thinks he’s tuff shit because he’s some Frog foreigner. But he’s just like any of us unless they teach self-defense as part of the curriculum back in France. Then you're screwed for good."

“Geez, thanks,” I scoffed.

Without any warning, the fight kinda just started. We really just got into it assuming it just did. It's not like we had a referee or something. My first instinct was to tackle him and push him on the floor, but the dude was heavier than he looked.

Fortunately, it made him stumble a bit backward, giving me a chance to land a couple of hits on his face.

In between all the wailing and screaming from the crowd I could hear James shouting like a makeshift cheerleader saying “Stun him!! That’s right! Get him while he’s off guard! Just like you did with me in the game!”

While it did look like I was fighting in a game, it sure didn't feel like it when I got smacked back right on my face. It really hurt, I tried to shrug it off, but I couldn't keep a straight face afterward. While he kept cussing some weird French words at me Michel then started throwing his fists while all I could do was shield my face from them. I didn’t even know what they meant, he could’ve insulted my mom or something, but all I cared about was getting out of this alive.

“Use the same attack you use on me all the time!” James shouted, and it immediately clicked to me what he meant. I kneed Michel in the gut, hard, and he stumbled back.

"Quick! Push him into a corner!" I heard someone shout, so instinctually I did slapping him on his back while he bent clutching his stomach in pain.

I thought I was winning. I thought I had him right where I wanted. That is, until she punched me back in the gut too. Not too hard, but hard enough to send me on the floor.

Laying on my back now with an angry French bully leering on top of me, I was pretty much out of options. This seemed like a good time for Round Two, but I couldn't just get up and brush it off like my character in the game because clearly, this wasn't one.

Finally, once the gasping of the crowd stopped I heard one of my classmates distinctively shouting something along the lines of, "The French dude won.”

James, however, wasn't having that, as he pushed through the crowd and exclaimed, "hit him in his weak spot! These guys always have one!"

Now, I'm not sure if it was my adrenaline kicking in, but I got one of those weird quick-thinking moments as before I even knew it, right as Michel was about to lean in for one last punch, I lifted and angled my foot and kicked him right in the crotch. It all happened so fast, that at one moment I saw his fist coming, and in the next, he fell back on the floor in pain.

Who won? Well, I’m not sure about the details, cuz afterward through the screaming and cheering of the crowd, some teachers came in and lifted us away.

I just remember being taken to the school infirmary, where they patched up some of the scratches and bruises and gave me some ice for the punches. I didn’t look too bad, but I felt like hell after getting the air pushed out of me. After getting lectured by Ms. Tabitha about how violence doesn’t solve anything, they left me sitting there waiting while they called my parents.

James came in afterward with a smug smile on his face showing off what I think was pride.

“Dude you look messed up. I can’t believe you took on Michel like that,” he added.

Clutching my aching stomach there were deep inhales when I spoke, “Yeah, well. I knew I probably couldn’t make it out alive, but I couldn’t go down without smacking some on him too.”

So, life may not be exactly like a video game, but it’s sure helpful as hell to live it like one.