Gonna' git mah gat, gonna' bust a cap rat-a-tat-ta-a-aat

It's late, and the place is almost empty. My contact steps in through the front door, seemingly a simple patron looking for some entertainment. He slips me the 9mm auto over the counter as casually as a handful of singles, along with a clip and a whole bucket of what amounts to ammunition these days. It's an old piece but the action is clean and sharp, zee intrinsic veight ah sign uv reliability. I load it up and drop it in a cargo pocket that seem like they were made for just such an object.

Watch out punks, I'm now officially strapped.

And all for the price of three hours of game time on my machines.

If packing imitation heat has taught me anything in the last day, it's that I should never, ever, under any circumstances own a real firearm.

The temptation to brandish and fire it wantonly and without sanity or remorse into crowds of ignorant customers, broken computers and discarded soda cans is just too great. Every second I imagine the instant entertainment and gratification the look of confusion, superficial pain and sheer terror would bring me. It's almost too much for this simple arcade manager to bare.

But I remain strong. I've gone almost 24 hours in ownership of the mock-weapon and I've only shot two people, both of whom I knew, so I think that makes it OK. Also I shot myself once to make up for one of them, and gutted my big toe by wrenching the giant metal back door across it whilst running from the other, who also happened to be Mr. Ringer.

Mr. 1up, my hapless boss was the recipient of the other shot, fired at touching distance into his thigh with no warning. It's ok though, you can all rest easy knowing Mr. 1up is a complete bastard and deserved it.

While it might seem to some that guns and arcades that rigorously tout mind-shatteringly violent and realistic videogames don't mix, it's become apparent to me how easily the two could co-exist in mutual benefit. I imagine a sort of consumers paradise, where I run the glorious mix between the arcade as it is now, and a seedy pawn shop, walls studded with every conceivable modern assault rifle and various other ballistic weapons.

I know, I know, it sounds bad at first, but just think. In the horrible, dystopic, Orwellian future we face, we would need just such an establishment, one that could both train and arm the young and still free-thinking populace, thus enabling them to overthrow the increasingly tyrannical government!

Radical? Maybe.

Crazy? Totally.

Jail-time-worthy-for-just-suggesting-it? Probably.