Once in a while Skeeter will make weird noises. No, he doesn't have Tourette's and, no, I am not talking about the noises from that thing under his shirt (though, Lord knows, that makes it only little opera of sounds and squeaks). No, I am talking about something that is a throw-back to the days when we weren't talking. He would make a strange noise and I would cock my head—as dogs are wont to do—and he would go hysterical with laughter and keep making all sorts of other weird noises until I did it again. It was tedious. But yesterday, he was looking right at me and made a noise—out of the blue!—that scared me so bad I jumped in the air and nearly shit myself. As he was laughing his useless arse off and I was trying to catch my breath I shrieked, "What the fuck was that!?!"
Still chuckling he said, "That, my friend, is a noise that strikes terror into the hearts of every noob WoWhead! It's a murloc!"
"Again...What the fuck was that!?!"
And with that I opened a door that should have stayed shut forever. I actually invited him to talk about his obsession, the video game "World of Warcraft."
To translate what he had already said: a WoWhead is someone who plays World of Warcraft. (WoW...get it?) A noob is someone new to the game—a newbie—and, apparently, a murloc is a monster you fight in the early stages of the game; one who comes running at you and makes a sound like, "Mrblgrblmrblgrb!" At the beginning of the game, the murloc almost always kills you and the sound he makes is, apparently, a sound that haunts the hardcore player well into the night.
Oh!—dear reader—it gets worse! Skeeter actually insisted on showing me how the game is played. I said, "Hold your horses, nerd-butt! Life's too short."
"Come oooooooooooon—" yes, he did say it like that "—nobody ever wants to see!"
"Oh fuck," I moaned, hopping onto the the ottoman beside his computer. "You owe me big. Ten cookies—"
"—three—"
"—seven—"
"—four—"
"—done!" I said, rather proud of myself because I had never had more than two at one time. "And I want them up front," I added, figuring that if I was eating during his whole dreary demonstration it might be survivable. As I munched, he started.
He got into the game and showed me that he played several different characters, but the one he wanted to show me was a level 80, Dranei shaman who, in her first Forge of Souls run, yesterday, did the top dps and that was even after the healer died and she had to take over keeping the tank up.
It was at about this moment that I fell asleep. When I woke up I noticed two things: that the motherfucker had taken back all the cookies he gave me and that he was deep into his game, headphones on and all. I looked at his computer screen and it was full of crazy-ass action. There were explosions and hideous looking creatures running all over the place and some other, less-hideous creatures running all over the place. An epileptic, watching all this, would have seized in a second but I dozed off again.
Then...
"MRBLGRBLRBLGRBR!"
The cocksucking cuntface had found a fucking murloc in the game, taken out the head phones for the computer, cranked the volume up to max, and let me have it. While I was still panting in terror and checking my asshole to see if anything had actually come out Skeeter roared: "IT'LL BE A COLD MOTHER-FUCKING DAY IN THE BURNING STEPPES BEFORE YOU EVER SEE ANOTHER BRIBE-COOKIE FROM ME, YOU LITTLE SHIT!"
And, or course, later, all night, in the dark, in the cracks and whistles of the house: "mrblgrblmrblgrb...mrblgrblmrblgrb...mrblgrblmrblgrb...mrblgrblmrblgrb..."
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