kommaderie

[kommaderie]

The Great Outdoors

I hate the sun. I hate how its light saturates all the colors of the grass and buildings, how its heat induces sweat and stuffiness, and how its warmth welcomes the presence of gnats and flies. I instead yearn for the peaceful serenity of winter, where all the colors are muted under the mass of white, how the sky is a neutral gray, and how all the bugs are cowering in the filthy holes they belong to. But time is not on my side. Summer rears its ugly, sweltering head, and my house, my only refuge, has been infested with spiders and flies. However, that is the least of my worries. My family, deluded with their false ideas of “family time”, deem this weather acceptable for a picnic and have decided that all of us must partake in it. 

I cannot accept this. Do they not understand my struggle? Do they not understand my plight? I am a gamer, the most oppressed minority in all of human history. I can only survive indoors, where there are no people to bother me, where my keyboard shines with all the lights of a Pride Parade, and where I can consume Doritos and Cheetos and inject Mountain Dew directly into my bloodstream to boost my gaming experience. Yet time and time again they have shown themselves to not have a shred of compassion for those rejected by society. They knowingly support egregious statements such as “John, stop playing video games, it’s 1 o’ clock in the morning” and “John, please stop playing video games, you’re failing in half of your classes”, enabling society to force me into heinous regiments such as showering and doing my laundry. But no longer, for today, it is my turn to reject society, and return the wounds they inflicted upon me!

Though my ambitions are grand, I must start simple. Thus, the first step I shall take to create a utopia is to eradicate the very concept of summer from the minds of the populace! This shall be an easy feat, as the Ancient Flurries of Reykjavik II owe me a favor for all the ice cream vendors  I’ve sacrificed to them. By calling upon their power, I shall unleash eternal winter upon the entire country, blessing the land with fresh snow and the banishment of bugs. Ecosystems may die. Infrastructure may collapse. But who will dare to stop me? Who has the power to stop the ancient, unstoppable force of the Ancient Flurries?

My parents.

They hastily burst through the door without knocking. They gazed in horror at my overturned bed, desks, and bookshelves, the magical diagrams drawn in the blood of refrigerator designers scrawled across the floor and wall. They glanced at the ancient beings, and glared at me.

“John? What is this?”

“Nothing! Go away!”

“Do you really think this kind of behavior is acceptable! Look at the mess you’ve made!”

“It’s nothing important! Leave me alone!” 

“You are staying in your room until you can clean up your mess!”

“You think this is bad? My sister makes slime videos!”

“You will stay in your room and clean your mess!”

“She makes slime! She unironically likes slime!”

Unfortunately, my facts and logic fell upon deaf ears. I was now imprisoned in my room. My gamer PC, monitors, headphones, chair, and keyboard were all confiscated and burned. My lifetime stash of Doritos, Cheetos, and Mountain Dew were all given to my sister, who sold them all for followers on TikTok. My room now reeks of blood, and the Ancient Flurries no longer speak with me. Yet again, I am shown how society chains down gamers like me into subhuman positions, with no hope for a better future, where we can play video games and avoid being productive members of society.