Shining like a grail, sharp taloned and enticing, the Grab A Crappy Stuffed Animal With A Metal Claw Using Only Two Directional Buttons Game called to me like the dirty whore that it is. Now, I’m a competitive bitch (just ask my kids when they’re done crying after our last Uno match) and if there’s one thing I know, it’s that I may spend every last dirty brass Chuck E. Cheese coin in my pocket to defeat this Claw Machine Motherfucker… but rest assured, I WILL defeat it.
I approached this behemoth rip off of a device and began mapping out a strategy. As you know, obtaining ANYTHING from this game is knowing that although you may want the nicest piece of shit imprisoned in this glass case, you must be aware that it will most likely be wedged in too tightly or situated just beyond the Claw’s reach and so, you must opt for what is actually ATTAINABLE. In this case, a frazzled looking yellow bird thing.
Don’t look so sad there frazzled yellow bird thing, I’m gonna break you outta this joint. You deserve to be loved by a sticky child for a couple of days before being abandoned for a Barbie… you deserve being ripped apart cheap seam by cheap seam by the dog. Let’s do this…
Something like this….
Just slightly off to the side, the slender metal finger dips down only to grab the stifled, encased AIR. To be expected, I’m getting the feel for this particular Bitchass Grabber… That was a warm up, a trial run… a minor flesh wound.
Here birdie, birdie, birdie, you will be mine and I shall name you George…
FUCK! Premature button pressing. I’m waaay off and the talon grabs the wispy orange hair of one a Troll doll whose skin looks inappropriately vaginal. I must be letting the nerves get to me… Still lots of jingle in my pocket though, I got this…
FUCK YOU! I HAD THAT YELLOW BASTARD IN MY CLUTCHES!! You dirty sonofabitch… I see how you wanna play this. At least I got that bird a bit more unwedged so my third effort wasn’t totally in vain….
Soooo close!! Well played Claw Grabber.. well played, but we’ll see who get’s the last laugh…
Now I’m starting to feel like a old crow at a slot machine. I’m bec
oming addicted. I can’t stop. I WON’T stop. This WILL happen… I just need more patience grasshopper…. concentrate Daniel Son.
Coin twenty…. LAST COIN.
My hands are sweating, there is no more jingle in my pocket there is, however, a line of jabbering children behind me waiting to have a go at this Black Magic Machine of Trickery…
“SHHHHH!!!!!” I think to myself. “Don’t these snot noses know I NEED SILENCE right now???? FUUUUUUUU…”
It’s MAKE OR BREAK and although I feel as if the shiny plastic eyes of the frazzled yellow bird thing are almost taunting me by now, I MUST persevere. I don’t even give a fuck at this point what that damn bird wants. Maybe he likes it in that glass box amongst all the other sad and dusty toys. Maybe he’s content and warm in there snuggled next to the Vagina Troll… Or MAYBE, he’s the mastermind behind everything!!! Maybe his whole plan was to give the appearance of being “ATTAINABLE” but is actually in cahoots with the shiny talon, conspiring as a team to take all my brassy, fake money coins…
Maybe I’m losing my fucking mind thinking that this dumb doll conceived in China has any thoughts at all!! No matter, last coin. Fuck it.
I’m about to slide the coin into the slot and my child walks up to me.
“Where have you BEEN this whole time???” she says.
“Oh you know… just walking around…. you know…..”
“Uhhh, ok… anyway, look what I got with the tickets!!”
She dangles a plastic Fly Eye keychain in my face and a splatter painted snap bracelet.
“Cool..” I say, clearly distracted and drawn away towards the yellow devil in the box.
“You should go for that yellow bird thing.”
“I KNOW THIS, GODAM … uh.. I mean, you think so??” I try to keep my cool.
“Totally, it’s like, so easy.”
I refrain from flipping the fuck out and gently slide the coin in to the machine.
Baaaaack…. a little more… okaaayyy
Leeeeftt… leeft okaaay, looks perfect, looks square on. That fucking bird is coming home with me….. DOWN CLAW!
The claw opens, it drops down directly on the birds head, it closes around it’s neck, it begins to rise taking the elusive yellow bastard with it…
“YES…” I think… “YESYESYESYESSSSSS!!!!!”
And then, the weight of the ensuing booty I’m about to plunder is all too much. The claw cannot hold it. The bird slides, the claw clutches, the bird is now dangling precariously by its beak/bill/whateverthefuckthatis and then, one inch shy from the exit hole….. it drops.
“NOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!” I yell, “NOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!” again.
My eyebrows are more knitted than an Irish sweater, my teeth are clenched, lips curled back like a rabid fucking dog.
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!” I hit the machine with my fist as mothers usher their children away from me. My daughter looks at me. Confused, scared.
Yep, just like that.
I have been defeated.
My daughter pats my back softly, her eyes are filled with a lot of pity but also a twinge of satisfaction.
“Chin up Mom, you just need more practice!”
And now I realize, here at Chuck E. Cheese, that Karma is like a shiny metal claw, ready to bite you in the ass but never strong enough to save you from the box of dusty old crap you’ve imprisoned yourself in.