Wednesday, June 29, 2016


You can’t imagine the inherent challenges in the new video game, World of Wharf Rat. First, there’s Henry Winkler, who promises you great wealth, but ends up thieving your life savings as part of a Fonzie Scheme. You think back in time, as avatar wharf rat, to a love affair in a British territory, when your partner Left You at the Gibraltar, a figurative Brexit. Penniless (ahem) and loveless (ahem) and needing a tailor (a hem) you slumber on the docks with your best friend, Steve E. Dore, who also joins you in scrapping for meals. The two of you once found some pretty good Maxi Pad Thai, but you don’t limit yourselves to incontinental cuisine. “Mein krampf,” you think, “in mein rumpf, mein trampf stampf of mein Donald Drumpf.” Now you can send emails from the very gasser of your dyspeptic condition—sent from my iBS, reads the automated message.

Day by day in World of Wharf Rat you encounter such shallow, insincere people—you wish each would undergo a glib-otomy. You decide to emulate William Faulkner’s first published short story, and in your version, “Afros for Emily”, a bunch of bushy-haircut dudes reflect upon a southern spinster. Another story comes to mind, “Arose for Homily”, a morality tale about attending church. In your stories, the characters amass lavish lifestyles, and as a generous writer who properly endows your peeps with great wealth, you also oversee the transmission of prickly amorous diseases: these folks are living in The Clap of Luxury. Walking up and down the wharves, you discover a single literary agency—Bald Egalitarian & Assoc.—but its window (boarded) and its signage (toi let) resigns you to pondering your fate afresh. Henry Winkler avatar beckons, Steve E. Dore avatar beckons, Emily avatar of “Afros for Emily” beckons.

“El El,” says a Spanish-speaking avatar, referring to the above-ground subway gusting into place. You may guide the avatar wharf rat in whichever direction you please, pilgrim—El El, barquentines, foodstuffs, Fonzie Schemes, Brexit—but in reality, you’re guiding avatar every last one of us, and the next joystick maneuver matters.

also see: duck rescue


mark wallace said...

Is there a scene in the game where you have to STARE DOWN the wharf rat? Because that would be a hard one to win, it would.


Exactly. It's World of Wharf Rat -- it's the Wharf Rat's world after all. The stare down is the last level, and frankly, it's a formality. It ain't like there's as big gorilla come outta some ladder throwing barrels at your ass. You just stare down (as wharf rat) whatever laughing contest avatar they gives ya & it's usually a dunk, as they say. If they do send out the gorilla, even if he has a barrel over his head -- hang in there! Just STARE HIM DOWN! The barrel, should it hit you, won't be the end of the world!


borderline.barger said...

So I ended up digging out Europe '72 because of this post. You must be stopped Mr. Gutstein. I have done irreparable damage to myself.


hi borderline,

i suppose we could set up a kind of pie throwing thing, or d(r)unk tank, if these methods might stopper my insatiable need to contort the undeniable finery of our "tongue" [not deli, but a harangue in our langue.] you do however refer to the dead, who rod knows quite a bit about, having been to 100 shows and now owning the plastic cups. that sez, who is borderline barger? do you barge over borders? do you barge? do you listen to debarge? would you ever be a borderline debarger?

surely i jest and i do. i appreciate your message. thanks for taking time to read the post.