I like this one, it speaks volumes about the person I used to be – and reminds me never to be that kind of person again.
It was October or November, 1991 or 1992. I forget, it was a long time ago. David had asked for a Sega Megadrive II videogame console for Christmas. Mum told me she had bought one for him. Now comes the bit where I cringe. One day when everyone was out, I went into our Mum’s room and found where she had hidden the Megadrive. I took it downstairs, unpacked it, hooked it up to the TV and played the hell out of Streets of Rage. I ended up getting the Megadrive out at any available opportunity, and by the time Christmas rolled around, I had completed Streets of Rage and had no desire to play it with my brother, who had been looking forward to it so much.
I’m not sure what was more exhilarating – playing a cool new game on the big lounge TV, or that I was doing something so bad and could be caught at it so easily. Had I heard Mum’s set of keys jangling at the front door, there would’ve been no time to have unplugged the Megadrive and packed it away and got the massive box upstairs back to it’s hiding place. I would’ve been caught and been in big trouble, no doubt about it.
But I never was.
