Perhaps you’ve seen the hot video game sweeping the nation, Clash of Clans. With my latest epiphany, we’ve expanded the killing beyond the smartphone screen and into the everyday world. Now your family can kill other families – in real life!
I have never played Clash of Clans, but from what I’ve seen, it has all the earmarks of a great video game: Violence, death, and people who look like Hulk Hogan having a bad hair day. My son plays it endlessly, using his open trigonometry book to prop up his smartphone.
The other day, my friend Stu suggested we engage in a mutual Clash of Clans, but move it beyond the video realm.
“Why not pit my family against yours?” he said. “A real life Clash of Clans?”
Now Stu is a good friend and a bright fellow, but when it comes to evaluating a clan’s potential for killing, he is way out of his league. Stu has a wife and a small child. His wife seems nice, his boy is full of energy, and Stu is proficient at sitting around. That’s about it for their talents.
My clan, however, is stacked. My wife is a 5’ 2” former gymnast whose addiction to core-strengthening exercises have given her the power to bend steel. My son, as I mentioned, is a proficient gamer with a burgeoning talent for disemboweling. Finally, my daughter possesses many of my smart-ass abilities. She and I will just make fun of everyone and destroy their self-esteem.
The secret weapon is our wiener dog whose untamable bladder and passion for soiling expensive flooring will ultimately distract Stu and his clan.
I have no desire to kill innocent people, but if this is what it takes to get the kids off the couch, I’m all for it. My wife agreed, viewing this as another way to burn off some calories since she missed this morning’s workout. We loaded up the van and headed out to kick Stu’s clan’s arses.
Stu’s Clan Packs a Punch
I guess in all fairness I should have told Stu I was taking his clan idea seriously. But this is war – or should I say – clash. And the kid gloves come off when you clash.
“What’s up?” Stu said, looking surprised when he strolled out to greet my family.
“Raid the Town Hall!” I responded.
“Oh, I get it, Clash of Clans!” Stu laughed. He wasn’t laughing when the wiener dog defecated on his front lawn. The distraction gave my son a clear shot at Stu’s arm, which the boy cleanly lopped off with his sword.
His wife came outside, all weepy and blubbering about Stu’s blood-spurting wound. We quickly made short work of her.
The element is surprise is highly valued in wartime, especially in Clash of Clans, and I could see that Stu and his clan didn’t see this coming. Or so I thought. I was about to ask where the boy was, when an arrow split my sternum in two.
“What the – “ I said as follow-up mortar shells dusted my wife and children. From an upstairs window, Stu’s kid had mounted a brilliant counter-offensive. He’d mowed down everyone in my clan except the wiener dog, who by now was high-tailing (or low-tailing it, as the case may be) home.
With my dying breath, I felt a strange sense of peace knowing that video gaming was assuring the human race would live on. Sure, it had led to unprovoked violence and death, but it also had Stu’s kid on his toes and prepared for imminent attack. He was at the ready for this modern-day threat.
The moral of the story is that life’s a clash. Make sure your clan is ready for it.
Photo by Supercell