A Wind Blows Over Chuck E. Cheese

This place has really gone to shit

and the people with it, 

The carpet is stained with vomit

and trace amounts of snot,

All the ticket machines stop and sputter

till death do us part,

The games are boring lackluster

filler machines that the best arcades donate

because whoever chooses to buy them is 

mentally retarded or dealing with post-traumatic

stress and can't handle the decision,

The parents who bring their kids to the arcade 

give them one token

Just one,

And I who no doubt came prepared with a bucket

of the shiny crap riddled tender will be offered up to slaughter,

They come out of the shadows and put their lonley token in

to the same machine my son's playing,

The same machine that I was trying to hide that it was in fact...

multiplayer,

The kid puts his only golden chance of fun in 

and in a heart beat dies,

He looks at me,

He looks at all the tokens I have,

All the tokens I have amassed

and he has the gall to say,

"Why geeeee mister, You got a lot of tokens"

Don't you dare,

I am not your benefactor,

I am not the one who squirted you out,

You ain't about these tokens,

I am not your father

 

 

I've had the food if that's what we are to

label it, 

It's basically a circular peice of cardboard with cheese 

and meats

and vegetables god forbid, 

that's the option or if you're truely a 

gambling man then the salad bar is also open

 

When I was a child this place seemed down right magical,

I believed I could be the coolest kid on the block

if I could just capture an ounce of this place,

That damn mouse costumed man who I'm sure

was whichever employee drew the short straw that day,

He was holding a sign that said,"Dance for tickets"

Little kids all stood around him dancing as he threw tickets,

I was the only one standing in shock,

It's a strip show!

Here

Your children are dancing around this mouse man

like he's a friggin pole and he's tossing tickets at them!

Currencey of the establishment!

He's turning our children into whores and you're all

grabbing your god damn camera phones and filming it

so you can send it to aunt Margaret or Poppa Joe cause

it's sooooo funny!

 

It makes me sick

 

The vomit on the carpet?

I'm starting to feel as if it's from guys like me,

Guys who have started out here and then grew up

to see the circus degrade

collapse even,

The animatronic part of the room is a barren wasteland,

A last remnant of the early 90's clashing with modernism,

Only birthday parties are faced with the horror that is, The Show!

They belt out the "Hits"

The monkey on the piano smiles forever

and the bird dancing has been doing the same two step since

I was shitting in my pants at the older kids who picked on me,

These are the most formative years of their lives and were

presenting them with this,

We,

You,

I,

Should be ashamed

and drunk,

Let us be drunk

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