Ad-Rock screams into my ears, penetrating my muscles, compelling me to play the notes with precision. Kunal's on the drums, locked in a trance that makes his hands a blur. The energy radiating from the giant speaker next to me threatens to knock me off my feet.
Nick was the Diablo to my Cain. Only the red skin, horns, and lordship over the underworld were missing. In their place was a skinny, hatchet-faced kid who was bigger and stronger than me and as mean as the Lord of Terror himself.
After years of tumultuous marriage, Mom and Dad are finally splitting up. Mom has been apartment hunting and Dad’s all packed up. On top of that, they caught me smoking weed this morning and are furious about it.
“Where the money at?” The ringleader walks around the back of the couch, letting the barrel of the gun drag across the tops of the cushions and brush against our shoulders. The cold steel scares the shit out of me.
I plop down on the carpet as the familiar Star Wars opening crawl takes over the TV screen, filling me in on events that occurred a long, long time ago. 4000 years before Episode I. Whoa. That was unexpected. That must be the “old” in Old Republic.
Football Manager has become my reality. I’ll easily spend seven or eight hours playing some days. I haven’t told many people I play Football Manager because, well, I'm a woman.