The Kids Are Alright / by LD

Sometimes I feel like a force of nature that can't be controlled or contained. "She's like the wind" might be apropos except that I'm more like a category 5 hurricane, and you just try and calm those winds. Can't be done. And you might lose a limb in the process of trying to harness all that energy. And while it may seem like this post will be a few paragraphs of introspective self-realization, what I really have in store for you is a tale, The Legend of What Happened Here Tonight: How Laurel Almost Killed A Man With Her Bare Hands.

Paul and Elijah came over for dinner this evening and Paul made the delightful decision (or was it mistake...) to bring his Wii with him. After a few rounds of soccer, bowling, and tennis, we decided to give boxing a try. Now, I trust that those of you who have played a Wii (which would be approximately everyone, give or take 5) understand that certain games are a trifle more physically demanding than others. Golf takes little more than a flick of the wrist, while tennis will quite literally give you tennis elbow if you're not careful. Boxing, on the other hand, is a whole new level of physicality. Players are demanded to box, to block, to sideswipe, and to uppercut. Aside from brain damage and bloody gums, it's as close to the real thing as you could get without actually smacking someone in the jaw.

Now before I go any further, I should explain something about myself. When it comes to what I consider "real life" situations - career, friendships, etc. - I'm not particularly competitive. In fact, I'm more likely to blaze another trail altogether than race alongside someone else vying for the same prize. It's just not my style to win, win, win every single pursuit I go after. However. When it comes to games, or "not real life" situations, wherein the stakes aren't very high, I become an animal. Literally. I've got the blood of my competitors dripping from my fangs and I will rip the head off of anything that comes into my path of destruction. A force of nature, like I said. Completely unpredictable and completely uncontainable.

Back to the boxing ring. We were all stuck on a level we couldn't surpass. Paul tried, I tried, Ashley tried, Paul tried again. It was impossible. There was a dark haired man with a mole wearing glasses - glass-es. GLASSES! - who could not be thwarted, no matter how much we dodged or how many punches we threw. It was beyond aggravating, and by my fifth round with the rascally fellow, I was out for blood. "I'm gonna KILL YOU!" I hollered at the TV, throwing my best punches. I had vengeance on the breath and eyes full of contempt. "I. Am going. TO KILL YOU!" I bellowed, arms flailing.

He refused to be knocked out. I was losing my patience.

And then the cops showed up.

Yes, the police. A duo of cropped-haired dudes whose muscles were busting out of their department-issue polos. "Your neighbors called us over," they announced with a look of utter bamboozlement on their faces. "They said there was some kind of domestic dispute..."

I turned, mid-suckerpunch, my Wii controllers still poised for the shot, sweat beading on my forehead. "We're playing Wii." Still frozen mid-punch. Still blocking the shots. Eyes wide open.

"From outside it looks like you're throwing punches..." They explained.

" the Wii..."

"...And you were yelling that you were going to kill someone?"

"Yes, I still feel that way," I motioned toward the TV.

Both men looked around the room, bewildered.

"It's just the Wii..." I again motioned toward the TV.

The first man cocked his head to one side. "Maybe keep the front door closed, then."

"Thank you for caring," I said (amazingly, in all sincerity).

And then they left. And that, kids, is the story of how Ms. Dailey nearly killed a man with her bare hands.