It’s Saturday morning! Your favorite part of the week!
You wake up bright and early. Earlier than everyone else in the house, that’s for sure.
The skies are cloudy and there isn’t a peep in the whole neighborhood. You wish it would stay like this forever. Just picture it! An endless Saturday morning, where the only thing to do is nothing at all.
PS: Do you seriously still sleep with a Glo Worm? Your secret is safe with me.
Since everyone else is still snoring, you make yourself breakfast. You’re not a good cook, but you don’t know that.
Countless movies have made you cherish the “bacon and eggs face.” Yours seems pretty upset about something. Maybe he thinks it’s Sunday.
It takes you all of five minutes to completely trash the living room. Hey, that’s what Saturday mornings are for.
You become an indoor whirlwind, frantically hopping from one hobby to the next.
Toys! Video games! Crayons! Doritos!
(That last one because you burned the bacon, and the eggs were practically raw.)
Okay, so why did you name your hamster Lucifer? There’s no such thing as an evil hamster. Even the most vicious hamsters are still totally adorbs. You gotta stop reading cosmic Marvel epics right before naming small animals.
You let Lucifer get a little exercise. You’ve heard horror stories about what happens to hamsters when they don’t get enough of it. Legs flake out like they’ve got living rigor mortis.
Then, of course, are the Saturday morning cartoons. They’re the reason for the season. The very framework that allows Saturday mornings to take shape!
You watch Garfield and Friends. You hope it’s the episode with the singing ants, but it so isn’t. On the plus side, Binky makes an appearance. You give the episode a solid B+.
…but you don’t pay very close attention to the television anyway, because you’re too absorbed in the World of Crayola. Saturday morning is truly the best time to mess with crayons.
You color all of the things that matter to you, like robots and ghosts, and swirly little yellow things that may represent some sort of fancy dinner roll. Only you know for sure, but you’re not telling.
Crayons and blasphemous hamsters are great, but after a while, it always comes back to the video games.
You have a Super Nintendo, also known as the SNES. You were never really sure how to say that aloud. Is it S-N-E-S, or simply snes, like a regular word? You must’ve heard it spoken like ten trillion times by now. How could you possibly not know this?
You throw in the ol’ Street Fighter II cartridge. For some reason, the normal game has been overwritten with a much “tidier” version, distributed by the Classic Games Arcade. This time, you start as Ryu and battle Sagat. God knows what happens after that, because there’s just no fucking way to beat him.
Your Sagat-related frustrations are quieted by a knock on the door. It’s a little early for company, so maybe it’s a robber or something. Ever the optimist, you look for a bat to weaponize. Then you remember that you play no sports and thus own no bats.
You take a white crayon instead. You’ve never used it, so it’s still pretty sharp.
Silly you. It’s just your buddy, Dinosaur Dracula! I guess the usual “vampire sun rules” don’t apply to him?
“Hey YOUR NAME HERE,” Dino Drac roars. “Wanna go to the movies?”
Of course you do!