I don’t even know when I wrote this, but I’m stuffy sick and this is all you’re getting tonite.

So, on one of the nicest Fall days of the season, and the only day of the week that the whole family is together, we packed up the girls and took them to Chuck E. Cheese’s. Come think of it, it was one of the nicest Fall days of the season right up until we packed up and took the girls to Chuck E. Cheese’s. No, really. There was sun was out, pushing back the clouds, sending waves of warm down upon the still damp grass and leaves and promising excellent leaf-piling opportunities by mid afternoon. Chipmunks abandoned their usually scurrying for a more choreographed skitter. I would not have been surprised one bit if the trees suddenly began swaying in perfect rhythm and singing a high pitched autumny tune, old school Disney style. Then The Day learned of our plans to recreate indoors and it was all, “Well, FINE. THEN” and pulled the shades, hit the lights and went out drinking.

The establishment was one we’d haunted once in the past, so the experience wasn’t entirely alien. The first thing you encounter upon entering is the door greeter, whose job it is to talk across the lobby with their girlfriend/boyfriend and completely ignore you, because the staff at Chuck E. Cheese’s realizes how insulting it is to you as a customer to have service thrust upon you, and that you are much more at ease sheepishly requesting it.

The entire entry area is lit by a black light that black illuminates an area the size of a small dance floor, like the wedding you attended at the local American Legion hall. Just no chicken dance. It makes you want to don a floppy knit cap, string on the glowing neon necklaces and bracelets and rave. Children and parents get their hands stamped with UV ink at the door so that they can be matched up when they leave, guaranteeing that adults only leave with their own children. Strangely, no proof is required that the kids are actually yours before your hands are stamped. So, remember, pilfer your children before checking in, not after.

Once inside we met up with some extended family and sat down to wait for the arrival of the mediocre, overpriced pizza. After having been the lucky recipient of free pizza from Pizza Hut only the night before though, I was, admittedly, of the mind that spending anything for pizza was just plain foolish. Free pizza will always come to those who wait. Especially those who are made to wait when someone grabs their pick-up pizza and takes it on an unauthorized delivery run. In the meantime, I was sent to purchase overpriced drinks for the immediate family. After having purchased whole two-liters of Sam’s Cola from Wal-Mart for 50 cents each just 5 days earlier, I was, wisely, of the mind that balking at the price of sodas to my wife was just plain pointless.

See? I didn’t even finish it. I will now honor that legacy by not even finishing this sen


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