Only Super Soldiers Need Apply

Look, here's the deal: I know that you won't believe me, but I'll tell you anyway.

Tonight (that's Friday for those of you beyond the steely clutches of our maniacal peninsula) I took a nap, because this 9-5 grind is killing me, albeit pleasantly, and while slumbering, I missed a telephone call from a friend. This call would have, conceivably, alerted me to the opportunity of enjoying a delightful evening amidst comrades, all greased up with booze and lasciviousness. That's fine, and I missed it. Sleep is a dainty whore like that.

I woke up -no shit- and had little to do, which isn't necessarily a bad thing, mind you, it's just that I had all this energy to expend, like something underground was gonna come up and carry me (you dig it, you foxy fuck), and the gym I normally go to closes rather early. I wanted to do something besides drink, something healthy (or, shall we say, productive), so I ate a white fudge-covered Oreo cookie, smoked two cigarettes, took a shower, and grabbed my Nintendo DS. Don't judge me too harshly, as you've been there, and you know how it goes.

I hadn't played Contra 4 in a week, and I was concerned that my skills had become less than tip top. Cutting right to the heart of the matter, and I don't know if it was due to that glorious, currently digesting Oreo, but I was playing the game of my life. I can't stress this concept enough; and after I had blown through the fifth stage without a single loss of life, I felt like Jack Burton sans the Asian sidekick.*

Stage six? Get the fuck out of here. Stage seven? Well, I had never slapped you around before, but I was able to acquire the upgraded Hunter gun, so the Crawling Crustacean was no big deal. Stage eight? First time, fucked you up. Ah, stage nine? Okay, I'll admit that you ate up my continues, namely all of them. Stage nine is pretty hard, seriously, and for that one reader: come prepared son, and equip yourself with a box of tissues for the deluge that is sure to come.

Yeah, stage nine kicked my balls several times, but you know what (and this is the unbelievable part, so again), you know what? The last life of my last continue, the last possible chance I had to win, I toppled Black Viper.** Toast, as in make me some, in the kitchen, with an apron on (but nothing else, you fat bitch).

Yeah, I know you're unimpressed, and that's okay. I never majored in journalism, and dropped a Personal Essay class like a bad habit, so I'm unable to fool you into thinking that mundane experiences are riveting. But I've finished Contra 4.

___________________________________

Bill Rizer

* Which is a bit odd, considering the locale.

** I should also mention that the only weapon I had was the stock rifle, also known as the P. Shooter.