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Above: Seanbaby and Erik set out to rescue Kentia Hall.
Below: Same thing.
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Part 5 - Operation: Rescue E3
At first, E3 seems like a massive party with flashing lights and loud music. Then you realize that the music is coming from the background of a game about magic wizards, and the flashing lights are coming from atrophied dork legs kicking out electrical cords. This year, Erik and I decided to make a difference. And we were going to start in Kentia Hall. If you've been to Toys R' Us, Kentia Hall would be the aisle in the back that only has diapers and powdered breast milk. Most of the booths are broken and depressed asian people sitting at a desk full of power strips.
I don't know who keeps going over and telling the Koreans that America is some magical land where we all go on power strip/discount bookkeeping software shopping sprees, but good job-- they bought it. Once they get here, though, it doesn't take long for them to figure out we all took care of our power strip needs before we left for the video game convention. That's why we think their people renamed Kentia, "The Hall of Broken Dreams" or probably what they thought meant "Hall of Broken Dreams," but actually meant "Oh Funtime Butthole Festival."
Our first stop on Operation: Rescue E3 was Simple Jet Technology Company, Limited. Neither Erik or I are great business men, and are in fact two of the main reasons the Internet is bankrupt, but even dumbasses like us never had the dumbass idea to fly to a country where we can't even pronounce the name of the language and get rich by selling our entire stock of several Playstation memory cards. Unless, as I pointed out to Erik, they get rid of the law that doesn't let us tell people that the memory cards hold naked pictures of teen sluts and sell them for one million dollars each. "I agree," Erik pointed out to me.
Like a lot of the Kentia booths, Simple Jet Technology Company, Limited was displaying Gameboys. Keep in mind that no one in the basement hell of Kentia manufactured Gameboys or made games for Gameboys. They were just there to say, "Hi. We like our Gameboys, and here they are." From their counter, you can see they also enjoy their computer keyboards and a few remote controls they brought from home. Simple Jet Technology Company, Limited truly touched the shit out of the future.
Erik: "I see you guys have Gameboys."
Simple Jet T. C., L. Representative: "Gameboys. Yes. We like."
Sean: "Hey, when you, and I mean you specifically, not all asian people, flew over here on the plane, did they make you turn off your Gameboys?"
Simple Jet T. C., L. Representative: "Ha ha, sorry... no English."
Erik: "They made us turn ours off, and your mom's a cunt."
Sean: "Yeah, if it was a scam to get us to pick up Skymall and buy another nosehair trimmer, fine. But if it's really because our airplanes aren't Gameboy proof, things need to fucking change."
Simple Jet T. C., L. Representative: "Nosehair? I... sorry don't know."
Sean: "Maybe the airline geniuses could start buying steering wheels that can ignore Gameboy signals, like the people who make bikes seem to know about."
Erik: "Simple Cuntface Technology Company, Limited."
Sean: "Right. Or at least make sure your plane steering wheel doesn't go straight into the ground when it hears a Gameboy. Here, we made a chart."
(This chart shows our suggested changes to current airline Gameboy procedure. Erik added the picture of the zombies, so he could frown and shake his head at it. When no one seemed impressed, he pulled his glasses off his head as dramatically as he could and made his top hat pop off.)
(This chart shows the current airline Gameboy procedure. Notice how it's completely insane.)
Erik has seventeen years of pantomime training, and this was his time to shine. He started buzzing, and fluttered his hands so looked like angry little bee wings. The Simple Jet people quietly changed the sign on their booth from "We Enjoy Our Gameboys" to "Examine Amazing Bee Man. Eating prohibited." They still didn't seem cheered up enough, and I think they were starting to understand what it meant when Erik called them cunts. I quickly tried to mention cunt in a series of sentences about the mayor of Los Angeles so it seemed like it meant something tough and noble just before Erik started us off on an improvisational skit about airline electronic device policy.
Erik: "Why do terrorists spend so much time building ceramic guns and rectal grenades when one cellular call to Radio Shack is enough to destroy a plane?"
Sean: "Ha ha! Attention to me, capitalist pigs! This plane will now fly into the human sacrificing, pagan arms of Alah!"
Erik: "Sir, I'm the flight slut in charge of peanuts. It's against our policy to change course unless the crazy, such as you, is covered in dynamite."
Sean: "I see. Well, I have no dynamite, you stupid cow. I return to my seat and play a game about motorcycles... ON THIS GAMEBOY!!!"
Erik: "Ahhh, this is the Captain speaking. Ahh, today's flight has just received the Wing-Break-Off signal. Ahhh, If you're seated on what used to be called "the right side," you can see the rest of your passengers and most of our plane falling towards the famous Nevada Bunny Circus."
Hearts of Children Everywhere: "We... are breaking!"
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