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Aaron Waite Aaron Waite
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The King and I

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A saga of moving

 

When I worked at Gamestop, I had a few lucky coworkers who managed to snag tickets to PAX East. If you're not familiar with PAX (or the Penny Arcade Expo, to give it its full name), it's basically a celebration of all things gaming and geekery. Now, being the poor sap (both figuratively and literally) that I was, I couldn't make it that year, but my comrades promised to bring me back a bit of the convention.

I honestly didn't really think much of it until my buddy Ryan came back with a small box and big smile on his bebearded face, handing it to me like an invitation to Hogwarts. I opened it up to find a fantastic little figurine of the King from Castle Crashers. Being a huge, huge Behemoth fan, this was a perfect gift. He immediately took his rightful place at the top of my desk at home, watching over his desk kingdom like the benevolent, if not insane, monarch he was.

I moved that year. Finally had a place of my own, a castle with several kings, including my figurine. He sat on my desk, a status symbol of my independent geekery. My first excursion into the real world, I finally understood the reality of being a hungry retail employee, worrying about rent, and realizing that people you trust aren't always the people they seem. Innocence lost, I had to come crawling back home. Unpacking in my parent's home in the throes of defeat, I was digging out a tote when I found the King once again. Letting a smile cross my face, I set him back on his rightful place on my desk, his toothy grin reminding me that not all was lost.
Fast forward a year or so, and I once again found myself in the process of moving, my entire life fitting into several totes and a single computer tower/monitor combo. The King sat on my desk, once again embodying that warrior-poet exuberance that comes with finding your own place. Flush with victory and experience, I knew that I wouldn't fall into the same fallacies that warranted my last retreat to the safety of my parent's attic.

Except for the fact that I lost my job. It was my own bloody fault, but I found myself once again at my parents', this time in the basement. I didn't even bother unpacking at this point; I lived out of the same totes that once housed my independence.
However, the King still found his way to the top of the pile. Allowing myself a small smile once again, I set him high on a shelf as a reminder that this too would pass.

Got married. This time, however, the King stayed in the boxes. Through three more moves, gaining a job, and then watching the economy tear it away, he sat, waiting to retake his throne.

Just moved again, this time into my grandmother's old place. My wife offered me the garage in which to build my man cave. I gathered my earthly possessions (which consisted of my faithful laptop Wheatley, my old monitor Deunan, and my as-of-yet unnamed PS3) and placed them on a couple of old desks that couldn't sell in our myriad yard sales.

Something was missing, and I couldn't put my finger on it.

Grabbing the last of the totes from my in-laws' basement, I saw His Majesty, laying as proud as ever on top of the heap of junk he had risen to the apex of. I placed him on my newly christened 'battlestation,' and here he stays once more to rule over the geeky end of my life. Maybe this time, we'll actually end up in the same place for more than a year, but even if we don't, I know that we'll find another place to call home soon enough.

Aaron Waite recently started playing 'Dark Souls' again, so that explains the enraged screaming and weeping you've been hearing lately.

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