I had gone with Chris to the game centre within the Student’s Centre in the University to while away the time, and have fun  on some of the game consoles present there. Considering that we had written a class test two days earlier which had sapped all our efforts and energy, the lecturer had given us Wednesday free of class so we felt that we deserved some quality play time which we could spend doing the things we usually won’t get the time to do. In the Gaming Centre were table tennis tables, a bowling alley, plenty billiard boards and a few computer-based games, each requiring an amount of dollars to play.

But in the end, we did not end up having that much time to spare after all since he had to go to another class later in the evening, but for the little time we had, we touched and played everything except bowling which I’d never considered an intelligent form of recreation. When we played pool, I defeated him on all three games, and when we played ping-pong, I defeated him on the only one game we played. But when we got on the computer car racing game, he whooped my butt real nice every one of the three times we played. It was during one of those instances of complete hypnotism  and game-cum-dopamin-induced excitement with the speed tracks of the computer game that Chris looked at me and remarked: “You’re becoming American”.  And the reason for such a remark was that I had used the words “shit”, “(mother)fucking” and “son-of-a-bitch” one time too many during the intensive race, while lamenting how slow my computer-appointed Chevrolet seemed to be moving.

There is no punch-line to end this one.

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