Well, he probably wasn’t a man. In fact, I would bet anything he was just a greasy, prepubescent teen sitting there in his room, holding his Dorito-stained XBox 360 controller and gazing at his thirteen inch television through smudged glasses. I can imagine his mouth hanging ajar as I repeatedly stab, shoot and blow him up with C4. I was, afterall, on his team. He was a blue guy and I was a blue guy. For those of you who don’t know, blue guys kill red guys in war–not other blue guys.

But here I was, chasing this guy all over the place while the rest of our squad headed into battle against the red guys. Why would I do such a terrible thing, you wonder? We’ll, I’ll tell ya. This blue guy stabbed me first. I had just taken a seat on the Howitzer cannon. Normally, this weapon doesn’t appeal to me and the only reason why I sat down was becasue it was empty. Just sitting there all shiny and ready to dish out some punishment to the red guys. Peering into the sights, I suddenly saw the entire battelfield from far above. There were dozens of little red dots scurrying around. Some of the red dots got into tanks and became small red rectangles. But I could see them. And I was about to unleash the hounds of hell upon their red little bodies when I was stabbed in the back by my own teamate.

That was when I snapped. This has happened to me before–lot’s of times. When you play online with strangers, there will always be at least one goober who spends the whole game farting into the microphone or team killing because he wants to fly the helicopter or shoot the big Howitzer. But that was okay because I was used to it. The reason I snapped was because I didn’t want to shoot the Howitzer, anyway. It was just there and I sat down.

So I spent the remainder of the game chasing this guy around. Shooting and stabbing, stabbing and shooting. When I ran out of bullets I tossed him a few grenades. Each time I killed him I lost 10 points, but I didn’t care. I was crazy. I had snapped and crossed the line, my friends. When the blood stopped flowing and I found myself booted from the server, I realized I was smiling. Not so much smiling as grinning. I had done a bad thing and it felt good. I had killed the blue guy–a lot of innocent blue guys, in fact. Yet when it was all done, I felt better. So if you’re reading this blue-guy-with-the-knife, just remember I will be out there. The next time you team kill somone because they took your tank or helicopter, I will be there to exact revenge on their behalf.

Yours Truly,

Blue Guy Who Was Playing A Medic