July 20, 2005 at 12:38am By: Mr. Wilson Posted in 625 Elm Street

I found my Sega Genesis this weekend.

Several years ago I went through a retro video game phase. I pulled out the old Atari 2600, Nintendo Entertainment System, and Atari Lynx and gave them a whirl. A good time was had by all, with one little exception: I couldn’t find my Sega Genesis. It was gone, up and vanished like a fart in the wind. I was crushed. How could I live life without Sonic the Hedgehog?

Worst of all, I couldn’t think of any plausible explanation for its disappearance. Had I sold it? Certainly not. Had my mom sold it? She said she didn’t. Had it been stolen? Who the heck would sneak into my parents’ basement to steal a Sega Genesis? The only conclusion I could come up with was that I had loaned it to a friend and never reclaimed it. The idea made sense, I suppose. What didn’t make sense was that I had absolutely no memory of it happening.

Fast forward to Saturday night. The Missus and I were watching Million Dollar Baby (no relation to this man as far as I can tell) when I suddenly recalled a video game I had once owned. It was called Evander Holyfield’s Real Deal Boxing, and it was one of my favorite Genesis games. Apparently the boxing in Million Dollar Baby reminded me of my days spent playing EHRDB. Unsurprisingly, The Missus was not especially interested in hearing me recall my video gaming glory days.

Zip forward to Sunday evening. We were at my sister’s place celebrating my mom’s birthday. Out of the blue, my mom said “Oh, I found some of your old video games.” I froze. Could it be?

“Is it my Genesis?” I asked excitedly.

“I don’t know,” she replied. Let’s be honest, my mom doesn

‘t know a Genesis from an electric toothbrush. I don’t mean that to sound mean; she just didn’t have much interest in my video game activities when I was younger.

“Well, is it black?”

“I don’t know.” I was getting nowhere.

Zoom to last night. I dropped by my parents’ place and had my mom show me the box that she claimed held a priceless treasure. She pulled it off the shelf, lifted the lid, and… hot DAMN! It was my Genesis! And all my games! (Including EHRDB sitting right on top.) And even several of the original boxes and instruction manuals for a bunch of my NES games. I had searched that basement three times over the years (that I can remember) without finding my Genesis, and yet there it was.

I, of course, rushed home and hooked up the Genesis as quickly as I could. It took some work, but soon I heard the trademark “Saaaaaay - Gaaaah!” that signaled the opening credits to Sonic the Hedgehog. I nearly wet myself. After a quick Sonic fix I popped in EHRDB. I remembered that game like I had played it last week. I remembered all my strategies, I remembered the other boxers’ names—all of it. And just for fun I played straight through until I beat Holyfield himself by using a scrawny right-handed white boxer in red shorts named Mr. Wilson. I can’t wait to give the other games a whirl, but they’ll have to wait until I get back from Utah.

This episode also demonstrates God’s goofy sense of humor. I should write up my rationale one of these days, but the skinny is that I am convinced that 1) there is a God, and 2) God has a strange sense of humor. How does that relate here? Well, consider the facts. I haven’t thought about my Sega Genesis for a while, or EHRDB for even longer. Out of the blue EHRDB pops into my head while watching a movie that The Missus almost didn’t rent because we were being wishy-washy about whether or not to rent one on that particular evening. A mere 48 hours later I held in my hand that very video game, which sat neatly on top of the items in a box that I somehow had missed during three top-to-bottom searches of the storage room in my parents’ basement. Then I went home and played the game, beating it easily as though I had played it every day.

I’m telling you, God set me up. And He thinks it’s hillarious. He must. He does this stuff to people all the time. Think about it: You know how when you’re in a hurry you’re more likely to hit all the red lights? That’s God jerking you around. You know how you can not think about somebody for years, then one day you think about that person out of the blue, then shortly thereafter you see that person (or you find out that person is dead)? That’s God having fun with you. Deja vu? That’s God, too.

I won’t be the least bit surprised when I die if I find out that God walks around pulling practical jokes on angels all day. I don’t care, as long as he’s got a Genesis up there.

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