A Quest for Lasers

Hello. My name is Doug, and I like to shoot people. It is all about the thrill of hiding in the dark and blasting away at people as they come around the corner. The sound of their voice as they realize they’ve been shot is a joy like no other. When you add the sound of their vest beeping, it is hilarious. I’m talking about laser tag. I may write about serial killers, but I’m not one in real life no matter what my browser history looks like. Laser tag takes care of the voices in my head that want me to shoot people.

I’m just kidding about the voices. They don’t tell me to kill people in the real world. The characters in my books, sure. But they never talk about real people in case any law enforcement officers are reading this.

I know what you’re thinking. “He’s in his 40s and still likes to play laser tag with kids younger than his kids? What’s wrong with him?” Allow me to explain with a true story. My oldest son, when he was about nine, turned to me and asked, “Dad, why do I act older than you do?” The question had been asked before by many others but it was usually phrased differently: “Why don’t you grow up?” When your nine-year-old asks why you act younger than he does, it can only mean one thing: You’ve got it right! I replied, “Because I know the secret of having fun and not growing up.” He shook his head in confusion. He’s now twenty-four and has become more childlike since he discovered beer.

But back to the whole shooting people thing. I enjoy the thrill of the hunt, the hide-and-seek with lasers, the maniacal laughter emanating from deep within my soul. It seems maniacal laughter is not appropriate in most other venues or that’s what the pastor keeps telling me after church. The people in the cereal aisle at Publix also look at you funny when you laugh like Count Chocula. Go figure.

There are some things that are simply fun without any pomp and circumstance. Laser tag is so much fun it’s almost two of them. Although when I am ranked number one in the group, I do admit to some pompousness at that circumstance. Who cares that I just shot dozens of kids who only wanted to have fun? What difference does it make that I was a merciless sniper shooting hapless victims?

On an unrelated topic, I have a new idea for the villain in my next novel. It’s about a man who confuses reality with fantasy while playing laser tag.

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