The other night I am sitting in a Chuck E. Cheese with my nephew and family. And in comes the family from hell.
The overweight and unkempt mother, who looks suspiciously like Jabba the Hut, gets two steps into the restaurant before her six kids run screaming and punching… and quickly scatter into different areas of the restaurant. Mom orders her pizza and, of course, grabs a table right in the middle of everyone.
One of the younger boys, who must be a graduate of the Donald Trump Charm School, proceeds to steal game tickets from his siblings… and then from strangers.
Within seconds there are four kids crying, at least six kids screaming, and one adult (that’d be me) steaming.
The kid then runs over to someone’s table and sticks his finger in the side of their birthday cake and licks it off.
I get up and walk over to the mother who is oblivious to all of this. “Excuse me ma’am, but your cute little barbarian is stealing tickets from other kids and just put his finger into another family’s birthday cake.”
She replies, “He’s only four! That’s what kids do at his age!”
Meanwhile, before I have a chance to do something that would land me in jail, Mr. Cheese himself (a guy in a costume) goes over to Damieon and tries to settle him down by dancing in front of him.
The kid gets scared and punches Chuck in the stomach… actually, a bit lower than the stomach. Chuck falls over and is laying in the fetal position on the ground. Then two kids jump on him thinking he is playing. Then four more.
After a few seconds of 80-proof chaos, a manager goes running over and tries to regain order. He pulls the kids off Chuck and helps him to his feet. By now, Mr. Cheese is noticeably woozy and takes a seat at one of the nearby tables.
The kid who started it all runs back over to hide by his mother. The manager spots her and she spots him. Before he can confront her she dashes off to the bathroom and hides out in there.
My nephew, meanwhile, has a handful of tickets he won from some of the arcade games. We make our way over to the redemption center where he claims a plastic lizard and a spy ring that must have cost ol’ Chuck all of $0.08. It cost me almost $20.
The lady is still in the bathroom as we are about to leave.
On the way out I notice some of the merchandise I could purchase to remember our evening together.
The shirt in the image at the very top of this post is pretty nice and surprisingly inexpensive. But I don’t know about you, if I saw a 4-year-old wearing the shirt below, I’d strongly suggest that his parents toss out his Bob Marley music and get him into rehab.
How many drugs
Could a drugged Chuck chuck
If a drugged Chuck
Could chuck drugs?