Uncle Racquet Fool.

I wrapped up Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time ((The final battle with the evil vizier took me only a single attempt. The acrobatic sequence prior to that battle, however, had me uttering words of which most mothers would never approve. I had to walk away from the game more than once for fear that I’d hurl the controller through the television, such was my frustration.)) Friday night and Crimson Skies: High Road to Revenge ((I must have attempted the game-ending mission thirty times Saturday morning. Only the fact that I edged ever closer to success prevented me from tearing the Xbox loose from its moorings and rendering it to an untidy pile of shattered electronics and plastic beneath the wheels of the MVoD.)) Saturday morning. Next on my Xbox hit list: Splinter Cell.

Following my aerial triumph, I turned my sights on the lawn. I’m pleased to report that I handled the mowing, weeding, and rogue tree extraction tasks without having to revert to a saved state once. I filled four lawn bags with clippings and weeds, and a couple of the larger trees (is it fair to call them “saplings” once the trunk exceeds 1″ in diameter?) wound up in my little backyard brush pile. I should dispose of that pile one of these days.

After 3-4 hours of yardwork, I was eleven different kinds of pooped. I watched Frankenfish on the Sci-Fi Channel, ((Something unusual occurs in Frankenfish; something I don’t believe I’ve ever seen in a horror movie: every last white person dies. It was incredible. The cast of potential appetizers for the genetically-altered Chinese snakehead fish was broken down as such: three Asian-Americans (including the fetching China Chow, who was once ranked by Stuff magazine as among the 101 Hottest Babes on the Planet), four African-Americans, one Latino and no less than six Caucasians. When the credits roll, it’s very clear that the fish just don’t like (the taste of) black people; the only two people capable of drawing breath are African-American. Even when they do eat African-American, they only eat half the body! Most everyone else gets gobbled up whole (with the exception of one decapitation and one…puréeing) )) Laura made meatloaf, and after dinner we did a little housecleaning while she assembled my “Honey Do” list for Sunday morning.

After housecleaning (and leftover meatloaf, yum!) on Sunday, we hosted my brother, Dave (AKA Thagg), and his family for dinner. Laura made chili, I grilled hot dogs on our Foreman knock-off, and there were a variety of desserts, including pumpkin pie, lemon cake and ice cream sandwiches. Dave, the boys and I went out into the yard after dinner for some frisbee, football, badminton and Racquet Fu (a martial art of my own devising). I hurt now. Particularly the backs of my thighs. It hurts to stand. It hurts more to walk.

Later, we played a little Burnout 3: Takedown and Freaky Flyers on the Xbox before the Toledo Johnsons headed home. Laura crashed on the couch while Sam Fisher infiltrated the Defense Ministry at T’Bilisi.

3 thoughts on “Uncle Racquet Fool.”

  1. Once again, Uncle Kris proved why he is a such big hit with the broodlings. Not only did we all get a charge from the master of ‘Raquet-Fu’, but his mastery of the the X-Box proved quite captivating, even though ‘Freaky Flyers’ was duly noted as being sooo 2004.

    Any pain you are experiencing is a small price to pay for the adoration of your nephews.

  2. Well, I’m certainly glad the boys enjoyed themselves. Now that a couple of days have passed, I’m no longer feeling quite so sore; just a vague, lingering deep-muscle ache. No big whoop.

  3. Enjoyed themselves is putting it lightly. They had a ball.

    You may want to introduce your Raquet Fu skills to the neighborhood kids. Wouldn’t want you out of shape when junior is ready. The broodlings have volunteered to assist you in maintaining the fine edge of your craft.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.