Hi, it’s me, the Tamagotchi you bought in middle school. Weird huh? Running into each other like this? You, rummaging through an old closet at your parent’s house, me being here for the past fourteen years…in the dark. No, I don’t bear you any ill will. Ha, I guess it’s my fault for thinking since you turned on my power button and were given simple instructions that would keep me alive, you would do so. That you wouldn’t get your first girlfriend, and with the hope of getting some over-the-shirt action, leave me to wither away alone with no programmed food, water, or love. It was good of you to bury me under that sweater your aunt made so you wouldn’t have to hear my “I’m about to fucking die of malnutrition” alarm. That must have made forgetting me a peaceful process for you. While for me it was like living in an endless darkness of poorly knit betrayal.
I learned firsthand how thorough the Tamagotchi design team was when
considering my many possible reactions to neglect over a sustained
period of time. For it wasn’t too long after you left that my health
status dropped from “Moderate,” to “Scurvy.” Then over the next five
years my emotion indicator went from stern-face, to frowny-face, and
finally, “Reduplicative Paramnesia-face.” The latter being a nuanced
emotion that led me to believe I existed in two or more places at the
same time. I obviously tried to commit suicide, but some politically
correct asshole designed my functions to stop just before “sweet release
of death” and just after “multiple organ failure.” Therefore, I was
forced to endure.
I ate a mouse ok? A fucking real-live mouse! Don’t ask me how I caught
it, but it did involve gaining and then immediately shattering the
mouse’s trust. Using that same technique I also dated a Barbie that your
sister left in here...I have needs ok!? I’m a Tamagotchi not a
goddamned saint! This closet is a crazy place. Are you a religious man?
Huh? Are you!? I’ve seen things in here that would make the devil ask
if he could sleep in his parent’s bed that night. And I’ve done things,
things that can’t be undone. If you think I’m lying ask yourself this,
where’s the Barbie now? And why does it look like a deleted scene from Jacob’s Ladder in here?
So yeah, I guess I hit kind of a low point after you left. But if you
think I want you to press my “food” button you better pump the goddamn
breaks. I’m totally self- sufficient now and no longer require your
“love,” also the mouse nibbled off those buttons before I could get to
him. And as far as the closet is concerned, don’t even think about
cleaning up those old Highlights magazines. I’m rereading my favorite Goofus and Gallants, I’ve been starting to think Goofus was artistically ahead of his time, something that Barbie and I argued about...often.
I think we’ve got all we can out of this chance meeting. At this point
it might be best if you put your aunt’s “sweater” back over me and we
just went on living the way we were. Never daring to imagine what life
would’ve been like if you hadn’t left me, never dreaming of sunlight,
never imagining not contracting sepsis. I’m a Tamagotchi. I was designed
for two things, to bring children at least one to three months of
enjoyment, and to carry on in the face of adversity. All that matters is
that I looked into the dark abyss of the closet and proclaimed, “I will
not go quietly into this night!” And I won’t… mainly due to the fact
that I keep inexplicably beeping.