As a child, I grew up wishing I had an older brother so that I could get away with my roguish acts more easily. Instead, I was blessed being the youngest and only boy of three. This did not hinder me from being a wild mischievous boy, who picked on his sisters any available chance. Even though I was always indecisive about the decisions I made, I always had a clear plan of attack on how I would madden my sisters next.
"Travis, telephone. It's Dooooominic," my mom yelled.
"Huh," I was suddenly broken off from my deep concentration of popping fleas. There must be a whole city of fleas on my cat Puff Puff. I felt like one of those monkeys at the zoo, shifting through hair looking for lice. Instead of eating my game, I would squeeze my prey between my thumb nails until I heard a pop and saw a little speck of blood.
"Okay, I'm coming," I yelled back to my mom. As I got up, Puff Puff jumped off my bed and ran off.
"What are you doing?"
"Oh, I was hunting, but I'm about to play some Nintendo." Ah, the good old Nintendo. There it sat, in the living room waiting to be turned on. I had many games to choose from, but I knew which one I had to play, Zelda. Time literally flew when I played Zelda. Hours seemed like minutes, and the only way I figured it was time to stop was when my fingers were in too much pain from pushing the buttons or when my mom repeatedly nagged at me to turn it off.
"Travis, do you wanna play?"
"Ummm, what do you wanna do?"
"I dunno, what do you wanna do?
"We could umm."