We biked to the 14th Street pawn shop, arriving an hour before opening. It was the only place left in town with an NBA Jam arcade. His Bulls (dumb choice with no MJ, but he swore Scottie was legit) vs. my Seattle Supersonics. As I expected, the Reign Man dominated—swatting away his weak runners, throwing down thunderous dunks to secure my victory. Chris paid up the $5. I pointed at a switchblade marked $10, asked the manager if he’d go down. His phlegmy laugh followed as we hurried out confused after he said, “No, but maybe your buddy will.”
Curtis Ippolito is a writer living in San Diego, California. Follow him @curtis9980 on Twitter.