pres.umptuo.us

Alien 1: The Claw is our master.

Alien 2: It decides who goes and who stays.

I’m addicted to the Claw machine. Well, the ones that let you win, at least. A lot of them are scams — fixed so that it’s near impossible to win. The claw comes down over the prize, closes shut, but then as it rises the blue elephant I had my eyes on slips right between the holes. Some of the claws don’t seem to have enough strength in their grip, while some are just way too large for the tiny prizes in the machine, and others won’t go all the way down into the sea of toys waiting to be won.

But when a good machine is found, and the prizes are easily won, that’s when all the fun begins. Ultimately winning at the claw machine isn’t about getting the prizes you want; it’s just about winning. Ugly Monkey doll not so cute? It doesn’t matter. Already have the Gray Praying Bear? Now he’ll have company. It’s like the joy of sticking it to the man, proclaming, “Hah! I can win at your claw machine, you evil claw machine designers!”

And then we come upon the Giant Claw Machine™ at Dave and Buster’s. At 9.8 credits per play, one would scoff and simply say, “Impossible!” It looks like a scam for sure; they wouldn’t give away those huge stuffed animals. Even the way the claw behaves…lowering all the way down to where the claw tends to topple over with its metal fingers pointing sideways, not even remotely looking like it’ll grab anything but air. But then, with a little bit of skill and a lot of luck, it snags something. The claw comes back up with the prize precariously dangling and drags it across as everyone watches, holding their breath that it won’t drop on its way to the prize chute, even though in most cases it will.

My obsession with the Claw reached a new low yesterday as I sat in front of the Giant Claw Machine™ with my friends around me, celebrating an early birthday with a glass of cheap wine, a tiny glass of Newcastle, a glass of Asahi, a Mind Eraser, and a shot of Cowbell in me.

After pizza at Avanti’s, we arrived at DNB’s where I continued swiping my card after each failed attempt to win a big blue dogbear, with someone coming up to me every once in a while and saying, “Eric, that’s a lot of money. How many credits have you played?” and I would groggily brush them aside and say, “Get away from my machine! That’s my dog! You don’t…you don’t even know who I am! You don’t know me!” as I took another sip from the $2 wine, careful to keep my pinky up.

But I got that damn bear. And that bear had a big tear in its leg, so my faithful cousin Jennie used her charm, and when I say charm I mean boobs, to flirt with the guys working there and got me a big stuffed cow instead. We got to keep the dog as well, but the stuffing was all over the place and we gave it to two drunk girls in the car next to us in the parking lot. They said they’d stitch it up. It’ll remember me though, as the guy who freed him from the machine.

Alien: I have been chosen. Farewell, my friends. I go to a better place.

Big thanks to everyone who made it out yesterday, I really appreciate it : Mike and his fiancée Debbie, Irfan, Richard, Tommy, Jane, Nathan, Jennie, Celene, Jerms, Pat, Linh, Julie, Wendy, Tim, and Gilbert. Here’s to turning 23.