January 20, 2010

For Christmas one year, my parents gave my brother and I 50 dollars to purchase whatever we wanted. At the time, fifty was an ungodly amount of cheddar. We went to Toys R' Us and shopped.

I was, at the time, obsessed with Jurassic Park, both the movie and the shrapnel from its explosion, so to speak. I had the pencils, the binders, the clothes, and the toys. I chose, as my megapresent, the Jurassic Park compound. I was terribly happy with my decision, sniggering at my brother's decision to diversify his investment over multiple interests. We arrived home to play with our booty, and I was elated to recreate and rerecreate my favorite scenes from the movie. Sniggering and smug I played.

A week or so later, when the compound had been destroyed (it had preset walls that collapsed, fences that fell over, etc...) and rebuilt only to be destroyed again, it lost its luster completely.

Sniggering turned to envy, as my brother hadn't even delved into the breadth that represented his purchase. Unbelievable.

I imagine I kept the damn thing so as to stay resigned in my decision, and was likely disappointed about the price it fetched at a 2919 larkwood garage sale. Speaking of which, maybe sometime I'll tell you about Kookalamanza and his haggling of my Jaguar remote control car. For now, signing off.