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For Chinese New Year I took my kids to Chuck E. Cheese to celebrate the year of the Ox with some bad pizza and loud arcade games. I knew it probably wasn’t the smartest move, but my kids wanted to go, and a good parent always does what their kids want to do (ref: Veruca Salts).
The county jail must have furloughed prisoners with kids that weekend and they all went to Chuck E. Cheese. The dads had tattoos running down their entire bodies. Starting with a sweet-ass neck tat that trickled down their shoulder, briefly hidden by the shoulder strap of their wife-beater Ts to their arms, and concluding on their calves like a continous scroll of black print reminiscent of the orginal butcher paper manuscript of “On The Road.”
The moms, dressed like teenage skate rats, bought-off their ticket-hording, coughing kids with shiny gold Chuckie tokens while they texted on their cell phones and sloppily ate salad.
It was so crowded that we actually had to wait for a table, and when we finally got one it was next to this “Bob The Builder” ride that every crying toddler with a runny-nose wanted to ride. It played the “Bob The Builder” theme song over and over, until I started thinking “can I break it? Yes, I can!”
When our $15 hunk of flattened dough arrived, my kids each ate one piece and quickly wanted to return to the games to touch more bacteria on the joysticks.
The teenage employee in the rat suit walked by greeting children which scared the hell out of my youngest son who jumped up into my lap knocking my Coke over.
Happy Chinese New Year!
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