During my childhood, my father and my older brother frequently watched spaghetti westerns and played video games that involved abundances of swordfighting and magic-casting. As a 7-year-old boy with the attention span of a squirrel on PCP, I found the spaghetti westerns to be completely boring and uninteresting. I thought the shootouts were kind of okay, but I hated sitting through two hours of boring drama just to witness a gunfight that only lasted for ten minutes.
I did, however, take a great interest in my father and my brother's video games. My brain became so intensively wrapped around video games that I would pretend to play video games instead of fucking around with toys like a normal 7-year-old. I would often disregard the consequences of staying up past my bedtime and escape from the prison of my bed, meandering into the living room to observe my father and/or my brother playing video games.edit.
I did, however, take a great interest in my father and my brother's video games. My brain became so intensively wrapped around video games that I would pretend to play video games instead of fucking around with toys like a normal 7-year-old. I would often disregard the consequences of staying up past my bedtime and escape from the prison of my bed, meandering into the living room to observe my father and/or my brother playing video games.edit.
One night, I walked into the living room and my father caught a glimpse of me in his peripheral vision. He offered to let me sit next to him and watch, which was unusual considering his normal response was to order me back to my room. I snuggled up next to him and watched in awe as he explored a vast, magical world, fighting weird monsters and saving the universe with his trusty sword and shield. My father thought he was being kind by letting me watch his game, but little did he know that my ravenous mind was consuming every fucking detail of this fantastical universe.
My father wanted to talk to me about the difference between real-life and make-believe, and so he did:
My father wanted to talk to me about the difference between real-life and make-believe, and so he did:
Even though I had heard my father's words regarding the make-believe nature of the video game he was playing, I maintained a small glimmer of hope that he might be wrong. I became completely fixated on the the possibility that fantasy and magic could actually exist. I fervently trained by body and mind in preparation for a dragon's attack on earth, at which point I would inexplicably develop magical abilities that would allow me to save everything in existence from imminent death. I would be a valiant mercenary, and I would somehow save the world from the clutches of evil.
Over the course of a week, my toy collection evolved from a box of menial transformers and cars to an elaborate armory of plastic weaponry and defensive items. I had helmets, shields, breastplates, katanas, axes, bows, staves, shortswords, longswords, and greatswords. I possessed all of the equipment that I would need to save the world. For the entirety of a month, I spent nearly all of my time either hacking away at invisible bad-guys in our backyard, trying to throw fireballs at my cat, or staring very intently at the sky in hopes that my sheer willpower would be able conjure up some sort of magical storm.
Over the course of a week, my toy collection evolved from a box of menial transformers and cars to an elaborate armory of plastic weaponry and defensive items. I had helmets, shields, breastplates, katanas, axes, bows, staves, shortswords, longswords, and greatswords. I possessed all of the equipment that I would need to save the world. For the entirety of a month, I spent nearly all of my time either hacking away at invisible bad-guys in our backyard, trying to throw fireballs at my cat, or staring very intently at the sky in hopes that my sheer willpower would be able conjure up some sort of magical storm.

One morning while I was eating breakfast, my mother and I began to have a conversation about missionaries. You see, my grandmother was a missionary and my family had numerous missionary friends, so my mother felt it was necessary to explain missionaries to me. She told me that missionaries traveled the world in order to spread the Gospel to unbelievers. I was raised in the stereotypical Bible Belt Christian home, replete with strict rules and total indoctrination, so this type of conversation was frequent. However, this particular conversation struck a chord with me, and it wasn't because I was moved or touched by my mother's message. My 7-year-old brain was struggling to separate 'mercenaries' from 'missionaries', so for reasons beyond my understanding, I assumed they were the same occupation.
My overactive imagination had been relentlessly searching for concrete evidence that mercenaries actually existed, and I had finally found my proof. I automatically assumed that a missionary was the real-life version of a mercenary. My grandmother was a missionary, and therefore, she was a mercenary. I remember thinking "ye gods, my ancestors are mercenaries!"
I immediately bolted to my room, equipped myself with the proper sword and shield, and then darted back into the dining room. I lifted my sword to the sky and, with absolute conviction, I shouted the following words:
I immediately bolted to my room, equipped myself with the proper sword and shield, and then darted back into the dining room. I lifted my sword to the sky and, with absolute conviction, I shouted the following words:
My mother commanded me to get off of the table, but I was still at the height of my glory as I climbed back into my chair. I had found my true calling. I would follow in the footsteps of my ancestors and spread the good news of Jesus whilst cutting down any foes who dared to stand in my path. I, the swordfighting missionary, would save the world from imminent invasions of dragons and goblins. I would slay my enemies in the name of God and, in turn, He would grant me his heavenly and holy powers so that I could become the most powerful missionary in the world.
by Beard Bro
by Beard Bro
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