Also, I didn’t actually lose the video. I just wouldn’t give it back, because the movie was that fucking good.
The late fee was so damn big by this point I couldn’t even show my face in Blockbuster. I was straight-up banned, man. But I could see the gigantic cardboard sign they’d posted right by the counter—for the very first, one-time-only…
Blockbuster Video Game Championship.
And guess what? This tournament, with elite competitors coming in from all over America, was taking place at Marine World, in California.
California! Just like in The Wizard.
My eleven-year-old jaw, already so damn angular it could cut glass, just dropped. This was what I had been waiting for. I was gonna ditch this two-SNES town and go on my very own epic journey across the nation to prove myself at the biggest, most Blockbusting video game tournament of all time. Just like Fred Savage in the Apocalypse Now of video-game-road-trip movies.
I mean, so what if I already lived in California? So what if my house was only a fifteen-minute walk from Marine World and the only thing my stupid little town was known for was that it offered really convenient parking for Marine World? You think I let that bullshit stop me?
It was meant to be. I was gonna hit the sidewalk and make my name.
I sat my parents down for a little talk. I was pacing in front of them in my tactical jacket and wraparound specs, and I was like, “Mama, Papa, Dr Disrespect isn’t like the other little eleven-year-olds out there in He-Man pajamas still afraid of the boogeyman and the top bunk.”
“But you love He-Man!” Mama protested.
“Dr Disrespect is his own man,” I said, gazing into the middle distance. “And I’m gonna hitchhike by myself across the country, and at night I’m gonna sleep in burlap sacks on the side of the road, and during the day I’m gonna play video games for food and cold, hard cash, and I’m gonna compete in the Blockbuster Video Game Championship in Marine World, and I don’t care what you say!”
Then my parents looked at each other kind of funny and they were like, “Um, honey, we’d be happy to just drive you to your tournament in our Dodge Caravan. It’ll only take five minutes. Remember we were just there last weekend for the Bubbles the Killer Whale Show?”
And I was like, “OF COURSE I KNOW IT’S ONLY FIVE MINUTES AWAY! BUT I’M DR DISRESPECT AND I’M GONNA TRAVEL THE WORLD AND BE A NATIONAL MEGASTAR LIKE FRED SAVAGE IN THE WIZARD AND YOU CAN’T STOP ME!”
And they were like, “That Fred Savage seems so nice. We loved him in Karate Kid.”
And I was like, “That is Ralph Macchio! But I get it, easy mistake.”
And they were like, “Okay, you can do this, but we’re following you in the car.”
So I hit the road like the warrior I was, with nothing but my switchblade comb, my overdue copy of The Wizard, and a turkey sandwich my mom fixed. Oh, and also my He-Man pajamas, because they really are the baddest PJs ever made and I’ll fight anyone who says different.
The journey was a hard one, my friends, I won’t lie.
Except for my parents, there were no cars around to hitch a ride from. So I walked and walked and walked, my champion’s heart pounding, the sweat pouring down my chiseled prepubescent body from the tippity-top of my head to the tips of my toes.
And that was after just four blocks. Shit!
“Are you sure you don’t want to get in, uh, Doctor?” my mom called from the Dodge Caravan with its plush comfy seats and frosty-cool air-conditioning on full blast.
“Yeah, I’m sure! I will not ride to my destiny in America’s safest minivan!”
“Okay, dear, but you really should’ve taken a left two blocks back.”
“I did that ON PURPOSE!”
And I did do it on purpose—I swear! Because honestly it was like less than a fifteen-minute walk from my house to Marine World, and if I wanted a true odyssey of hurdles and challenges, I needed to go at least four miles, give or take three miles.
But after all that walking, all that epic journeying, I was starving. Hell, I was a growing boy at five foot five, with abs so hard you could use them to wash your Underoos. I checked my pack and remembered I’d already eaten my turkey sandwich three blocks ago, while still in my driveway.
“Are you hungry?” my mom shouted from the Dodge Caravan. “I packed a Lunchable for you!”
“No! This is part of the struggle!” Damn, that Lunchable looked delicious.
Then I looked and saw ahead, like it was fated to be, a seedy, grungy old saloon full of hard boys and biscuit-boxers. I could go inside and challenge some shark to a video game and win enough for dinner, easy peasy.
I pushed open the grimy saloon doors and strode up to the dirty old dude at the counter.
“Hey, I’m looking for some action,” I said under my breath. “Competitive game of Mario Kart, Double Dragon, Ninja Gaiden, pick your poison. Fifteen bucks a match. I’ll even give ’em a handicap.”
He looked at me. “You realize this is a Denny’s, right?”
I glared at him through my wraparound shades. “Fine. One game of Donkey Kong for a Moons Over My Hammy.”
“Sheesh, kid,” he said. “We don’t even have video games here. But if you’re hungry, I’ll give you something to eat.” He frowned. “Wait a second, aren’t you Paul and Diane’s kid from down the street?”
“THE NAME IS DR DISRESPECT AND I’M A HUNGRY WARRIOR TRAVELING THE COUNTRYSIDE ON MY WAY TO NATIONAL VIDEO GAME GLORY LIKE FRED SAVAGE IN THE WIZARD!”
And he was like, “That Fred Savage seems so nice. I loved him in Teen Wolf.”
And I was like, “That is Michael J.
