Cheater

It's late in the evening at the Bumstead residence as Blondie and Dagwood lay in bed, reading before bedtime as they always do.  Her mind obviously elsewhere, Blondie sighs as she sets her book down, staring at the ceiling with an irritated expression on her face.  Looking over his reading glasses, Dagwood queries his wife...

Dagwood: What's on your mind, dear?

Blondie: Honey, do you think I'm out of touch...you know, with the kids?

Dagwood: By 'out of touch' do mean they think we're a coupla old geezers because we prefer to...  Oh, I dunno, read actual paper-bound books instead of staring at a screen for hours on end -or- talk to other human beings face to face rather than have entire conversations in emojis?  Then yes, you're out of touch with the kids.

Blondie: Smart aleck.  Cookie's easy...we're woman.  Cute boys, clothes shopping, makeup...I can always find some common ground with her.  But Alexander...it's like talking to an alien from another planet.  When he doesn't have his phone glued to the tip of his nose as his thumbs do a mile a minute, he's yelling at some 'noob' on his computer screen to 'quit camping'...whatever the heck that means?

Dagwood: Maybe that's just it...you need to find some common ground with him.  Going on a bike ride?  Outta the question...you'll never get him out of the house.  So, I dunno, sit down and do something he's familiar with...play some Fortnite or GTA with him.

Blondie: Fort-what?  Uhhhhh, I'm going to assume those are video games?  Honey, the last video game I played required me to put a quarter into it.

Dagwood: Wow.  You really are out of touch.

Blondie: Thanks you, dear.  Who's side are you on anyway?

The following evening finds Blondie sitting in the living room watching TV, dressed in little but a tattered old bathrobe and a pair of fuzzy slippers.  Having just gotten out of the shower and waiting for her hair to dry, her eyelids get heavier and heavier as some sitcom about a group of misfit trying to run an Irish pub in Philadelphia drones on and on.  Dagwood, having called her hours ago, languishes away at work trying to catch up on a construction account for Mr Dithers, and won't be home until the wee hours of the morning.  Likewise, Cookie went out to meet up with a couple of her girlfriends, and won't be home any time soon either.

Half-asleep and nodding off, Blondie jerks herself awake, suddenly startled by the sound of someone yelling.  Rolling her eyes in relief, she watches as Danny DeVito pulls a gun on yet another unsuspecting character.  Grabbing the remote, she turns off the television, but the shouting continues, echoing down the hallway from Alexander's room.  Just as she gets up to go tell him to be quiet she remembers what Dagwood said the night before.  Maybe this is an opportunity to bond with the boy.

Walking down the hallway, Blondie stops at Alexander's bedroom door and listens for a moment before knocking on his door.  All she can hear is the familiar sound of fingers tapping on a game controller.  After knocking on his door several times and getting no response, Blondie turns the doorknob and steps inside.  Alexander, game controller in hand and wearing a headset, sits on the edge of his bed in a pair of boxer shorts and a t-shirt, completely oblivious to Blondie's presence.

Alexander: Jesus, scub!  You need an aim-bot or somethin'?  Just run-n-gun!  Fuckin' noob.

Blondie, slightly taken aback by all of the unfamiliar jargon and lingo, smiles at Alexander's apparent 'take charge' manner.  Unaware that she's standing right next to him, Alexander continues playing as Blondie reaches down and taps him on the shoulder.

Alexander: (startled, nearly dropping his controller) Holy fuckin' shit!  Jesus, mom!

Blondie: You wanna try not using that kinda language in front of your mother?

Alexander: S-sorry, mom. (talking into his headset) Yeah, eff you guys.  I gotta go.

Blondie: So, uhhhh, whatcha playin' in here?  Looks...interesting.

Alexander: Uhhhh, GTA...  Why?  

Blondie: Oh, you know, just wanted to see what you were up to...  Maybe play a few rounds.

Alexander: Play a few rounds...of video games....with me?  You, uhhh...  You feelin' okay, mom?

Blondie: What?  A mother can't take an interest in her son's hobbies?

Alexander: Yeeeeah, I guess.  You just don't seem like the gamer type.

Blondie: Oh, I'll have you know, I rocked at Miss Pac-Man...and Dragon's Lair.  Gimme a crash course and find out.

Alexander, eyeing his mother with amused suspicion, hands her a controller as she sits down on the bed next to him.

Alexander: Pfft...old school.  Right on.  Well, I guess we can skip the tutorial and go straight into freemode since you're...you know...such a legend.

Several hours, three dozen deaths, a like number of homicides, and an uncountable number of traffic accidents later, Blondie is no better than when she started.  Alexander, using the typical 'get gud' method of gaming mentorship, hasn't gone easy on her.  Frustrated with her lack of success, Blondie lashes out.

Blondie: Oh, c'mon!  I had you dead to rights!  That mugger just came outta nowhere!  Friggin' asshole!  And does your guy really have to slow-clap every time I die?

Alexander: (grinning, mocking her) Language, mother.  Look, you're the one who wanted the crash course.  Own or be owned.

Blondie: Alright, so it's like that, huh?  Fine!

No sooner has Blonide's character respawned then she stands up, pulls the knot out of her bathrobe, slips it off her shoulders, and lets it fall to the floor.  Bug-eyed, mouth agape, Alexander stares on as Blondie, naked except for a pair of pink, fuzzy slippers, promptly sits down across his lap.  Oblivious to the game, Alexander's controller slips out of his hand, landing on the floor with a 'thunk'.  At the same time, Blondie's character pulls out a melee weapon and cracks Alexander's character over the head...then takes ten thousand dollars in cash that is laying on the ground next to it's body.

Setting her controller down, Blondie climbs off his lap, and collects her robe.

Alexander: H-hh-hey!  Th-that's cheating!

Grinning slyly as she closes her robe, Blondie leans towards him and kisses Alexander on the cheek.

Blondie: Own or be owned, son.

Original Art by Roger Bacon

Commissioned and Colors by Phillipthe2