The Child Soldier and the Rusty Machete

I’m sorry I gave your son a rusty machete.

Yes, I am aware that he is only 12 years old. To be fair, I have been playing a lot of video games lately.

Yes, I am in my 40s, though I’m not sure why that’s relevant. I tried real life and it was too hard, so I went back to virtual reality. Why does it feel like you are judging me?

There is nothing wrong with my brain! Just let me explain, Mrs. Jackson. Oh, excuse me. I apologize. It’s Miss Jackson. No, I won’t forget it… yes, ma’am.

Oh… my excuse? Well, you see, in the old days I had the gray brick Game Boy with the monochrome green screen. I used to love playing Tetris on it. It was the early ’90s, and we didn’t have smartphones with games on them yet. But something strange would happen every time I turned off the game.

I could still hear the music.

It played in my head for the rest of the day. It consumed my waking and sleeping thoughts. At night, I would even dream of differently shaped blocks falling neatly into place. I longed for a clean four lines disappearing all at once, clearing the entire screen and giving me a massive bonus score.

You could say, looking back, that I was obsessed.

The ASMR of the music and the clean, floating blocks being guided into perfect lines is so satisfying. It can be downright hypnotic.

My mom hated me playing video games. She said it trained children to be child soldiers. I guess it could be considered a soft-core version of mind control. I’m not saying I’d go full Winter Soldier every time I heard the ice cream truck, but it’s not a stretch to think I could.

Although, by nature, I’m not a violent person.

Still, I didn’t put too much thought into it. She was a boomer… like an actual baby boomer. She was afraid of everything new that she didn’t understand. She never graduated high school and married my dad at 17, so I don’t think she understood what it was like to be a “normal” kid.

My dad is the one who let me have the Game Boy. Well, I had to share it with my older brother. He convinced my dad to get it for us. He’s the oldest and my dad’s favorite. I don’t know why. He’s all artsy and broody and dark and depressed.

Whereas I’m funny and delightful.

Anyway, we got a Game Boy out of his moods, so I’m not too mad about it. We had to trade off playing, though. I thought maybe if I could just play a little longer… or just get that perfect “Tetris”—yes, that’s also the name of the game, it’s named after its biggest flex—then maybe the music in my brain would stop.

Either way, he was bigger than me, so I had to give it up when my time was up.

I played more games in the years to come, but they didn’t seem to affect me as much, at least not that I can recall. I mostly played simple, innocent role-playing adventure games like Pokémon. I could switch it off, and while I’d still think about it and read strategy guides and walkthroughs, I knew enough by then to keep the soundtrack muted.

No sounds in my head means no mind control, right?

Made sense to me at the time. That was like two and a half decades ago, though, so I couldn’t say for sure if gaming had any long-term effect on me.

Since my divorce—and all the abuse that led up to it—I needed an escape. Life got heavy. Every day became a challenge to my nervous system. I felt myself breaking, and I needed a distraction.

My daughter—you might have seen her in the yard occasionally—she’s a little older than your son. She discovered this game I used to play when I was younger. So I downloaded it and started playing it on my Nintendo Switch.

Yeah, it’s pretty fun. Takes strategy, problem-solving. You collect ingredients, make potions, go on quests. You can also recruit NPCs to follow you and help.

NPC stands for Non-Playable Character. It’s basically computer AI programmed to follow you around and repeat the same three annoying lines forever. They’re just helpful enough to keep, but annoying enough that if they die in battle—or you have to sacrifice them for better loot—you don’t really miss them.

Yes, there are weapons and combat in the game. No, I don’t play it for that. It’s just part of the storyline. Like I said, I’m not a violent person. I play for the strategy and puzzle-solving.

No, I don’t think the violence affects me. I’m a full-grown adult. Why would you even ask that? Can I finish my explanation, please?

So, as I was saying, Miss Jackson, I was outside—and I guess it had been a few days since I’d left my room. I noticed it’s spring now. I could tell by all the fresh wildflowers.

But something strange happened.

I looked at the bright colors of the freshly sprouted flora against the green grass, and I had a thought:

Maybe I should harvest these for potions.

Now, I immediately realized how stupid that thought was. I pushed it out of my mind.

Then I saw your son. He was playing football by himself in the street. And suddenly… I had a brilliant idea.

Why would I carry all that extra weight when I could simply recruit your son to join me on my quest and carry the ingredients?

He looked bored. It took very little convincing. All I had to offer was the rusty machete from my tool shed, and he was fully on board.

I never expected him to use it.

If violent video games affect anyone, ma’am, it’s your boy. You can’t pin that on me.

Yes, I know he perished immediately.

That is not my fault. I told you, I’m not a violent person. I panic. I ran away immediately. He knew what he was signing up for.

Anyway… again, I’m sorry I gave your son the rusty machete. I truly thought he was more mature and responsible than that.

Honestly, I feel like that’s more on you than me.

Wait.

Why are you calling the police?

😳😳😳😳😳

Writer’s note: For the record there is no aspect of this story that is Ai with the exception of using it for the story’s image and editing my punctuation. I suck at using the proper punctuation and Ai acts as my editor.

Every word of this came from my own demented mind and is based on the attached standup comedy set that I wrote last week and perform. I’ve turned it into a full fledged short story for this challenge.