The winter is coming. That means bad news on Game of Thrones, but in my world, it means I don’t have to mow anymore and I can park in the garage. In cleaning it out, I found a box o’ memories left over from moving out of my condo. The find was not what I expected.
Within, I found a Dukes of Hazzard sleeping bag from the early 80’s and a Batmobile phone. Dollars danced in my head, until I went on eBay and found that the sleeping was selling for $5 with free shipping and the phone was pretty beat up. Damnit.
I found awful pictures of bad bowl cuts and short shorts, old report cards, my Ozzfest ’97 concert guide, and several notebooks. Upon closer inspection, I realized the pages contained note after note about dwarves, charisma rating, boots of speed and other Dungeons and Dragons adventures. I had blocked it out, but ninth grade was an orgy of D&D madness. I had battled goblins and any potential for female relations with a fervor and purpose. I remembered my devastation when my parents found my Dungeonmaster’s Guide and pitched these tools of Satan into the trash. With no more hobby, I took up drinking. Well, that backfired! If I have a son, I’m forcing him to play D&D. I was a real piece of garbage in high school.