#BEDM Day 18: Tell Me A Story
Tell a story from your childhood.
I was quite young. It was nearly Christmas. I had asked for a Super Nintendo Super Scope for my SNES and I was more excited about it than I can possibly describe. Far too excited, in fact. One day, when my parents were occupied elsewhere in the house doing whatever it is that the parents of an 11-year old do, I oh-so-stealthily sneaked into their bedroom and to the wardrobe, where my presents had been stored (I had reconnoitred the location in a previous mission). Diving straight for the Scope I gleefully, and without thinking it through at ALL, actually opened the box so I could get the scope out and look at it.
So far so good. Having gleefully handled the thing I decide it’s time to put it away lest I be discovered (ooh I’m a cool customer, me). But then: disaster strikes! I can’t for the life of me get the fucking thing back in the box! I get more and more panicky and the bits aren’t sitting in the polystyrene holder properly and the outer box won’t sit properly and everything has gone to bollocks. Hyperventilating, I just chuck everything in, stuff it back in the box, bury it so far back in the wardrobe that Aslan is wondering which cack-handed twat has been having a go at it and then run out of my parents room in dread with my fate hanging an indeterminate distance over my head.
You can imagine what followed. This, ladies and gentlemen, is both an embryonic appearance of my gadget-lust and an object lesson in my pathologically shit impulse control, both of which are still driving forces inside me today.