The small town had entered a rare stretch of peace.
Normally, around this ti of day, a bunch of bored thugs would be picking fights over anything and everything. Even the local sheriff didn't have much of a solution—unless he caught them in the act, all he could do was issue warnings or throw them in a holding cell for a day.
But lately... sothing strange had happened.
The thugs hadn't vanished—they were still around—but none of them had been fighting. Instead, they'd all been heading to the sa bar, bright and early, and staying there till late.
If anyone curious (and brave enough) went to check out the bar, they'd discover a shocking sight: these notoriously short-tempered troublemakers were all quietly gathered around a single television, eyes glued to the screen.
Video gas were a completely new thing to most of the town's residents.
Especially in a place with so few entertainnt options to begin with, video gas felt uniquely magical.
...
...
Recently, the young bartender hadn't just shown them football gas—he'd also introduced them to so popular racing gas and shooting gas.
To these guys, the idea that such a small box could hold so many interesting things was practically sorcery.
But what they did know was that this magic box brought them joy—every single day.
"Hey, when's my console getting here? I've finally saved up the money."
After disappearing for a couple of days, Carson showed up at the bar looking dirty and worn out.
"Carson! What the hell happened to you?! You're filthy!"
His crew, gathered around the bar's one Suri console, looked up in surprise and started heckling as soon as they saw him walk in.
This wasn't the Carson they were used to—he normally cared a lot about his appearance. Today, though, he looked like a ss.
"I've been working down at the docks. Made over two hundred euros. Enough talk."
As he spoke, Carson pulled a few crumpled, dusty bills out of his pocket and handed them to the stunned young bartender.
The bartender honestly hadn't expected Carson to actually go out and earn the money.
"Well, don't just stand there, son. Take it," the bar owner—his father—nudged him forward.
Only then did the young bartender snap out of it and accept the money. His father grinned and said to Carson, "No worries, my boy checked on it for you yesterday. The console should arrive tonight with our beer delivery. By tomorrow, you'll be playing your own gas at ho."
"Wow! Carson, you actually saved up to buy that console? You're a legend!"
The other guys in the crew ran up and half-tackled him in a friendly way, not caring at all how dirty he was.
After all, they'd been in worse shape after brawls—this was nothing.
They joked around like brothers, one guy clapping Carson on the back and saying, "Hey, when your console shows up, don't hog it all to yourself, yeah? Let us play too!"
But Carson barely heard them. His eyes were fixed on the young bartender.
"Tonight, right? I'll be here waiting."
He'd only gotten a few chances to play the FIFA ga on the bar's console, but those monts had completely hooked him. From the second he picked up the controller, he knew he had to own his own.
Ask him now if he still wanted to fight people? He'd probably say, What's the point? Gas are way more fun.
Even football matches—unless they were really big ones—didn't matter to him as much anymore.
Simply put: he'd found a new passion. And it was enough to replace all his previous boredom.
Late that night, after most custors had gone ho, Carson was still sitting patiently at the bar.
"Dad, I honestly didn't expect these thugs to have this much patience. And I really didn't think Carson would actually pay back for the console," the young bartender said in surprise.
He'd originally brought out his old ga console just to give these guys a place to vent their energy—never thinking it'd beco such a huge hit.
His father replied, "Sure, they like to raise hell—but at least they understand that if you want sothing, you gotta pay for it. That's better than being a criminal."
Then he added with a sigh, "Most of these guys grew up in ssed-up hos. Dysfunctional families, rough childhoods... That's what made them the way they are. So try not to judge them too harshly."
"I get it, Dad."
And right then, he really did.
He realized Carson might actually be the kind of person worth calling a friend.
They both loved video gas—and Carson was clearly passionate about it. Why else would he wait here all night for a console?
Ga lovers understood each other. That bond ant sothing.
Just then, the sound of a truck horn honked twice outside.
Carson shot to his feet like a spring had gone off under him, turning eagerly toward the young bartender for confirmation.
"It's here. The console just arrived," the bartender confird, and Carson's face lit up with pure joy.
His very own ga console.
"Hey kid! Here's the console you asked for. These things are crazy hard to get right now—way harder than that PN one I got you before. I even had to pay a bit extra, but hey, don't worry about that. We're friends, right?" the bald truck driver called as he stepped out, carrying a GS1 console and a few neatly wrapped ga discs.
He noticed Carson trailing close behind and asked, "Huh? Who's this guy?"
"My friend. Thanks, old man. I owe you a beer," the bartender said.
"Ha! Looking forward to it," the truck driver laughed.
The bartender handed him the money, then carefully picked up the console and gas and brought them back into the bar—leaving the rest of the unloading to the staff and driver.
He was dying to see how this new football ga from GaStar Entertainnt would stack up.
Carson followed right behind, his whole body trembling with excitent. His console had arrived. It was really happening.
"Uh, hey... if you had to pay more, I can find a way to cover that. Just tell how much extra—" Carson offered, suddenly shy.
He figured the driver had only waived the extra cost because of the bartender, and he didn't want to take advantage.
But the bartender waved him off. "Forget that for now. Let's see what this ga is all about!"
He couldn't wait either.
Without hesitation, he yanked out the Suri PN console's cables and tossed the whole thing aside like it was junk. Then, with care and reverence, he lifted the brand-new GS1 console from its box and gently connected it to the TV.
The difference in treatnt between the two consoles? Absolutely night and day.
Reviews
All reviews (0)