Don’t Bring Magic to a Knife Fight

Quite a few people have remarked that they enjoy reading my blog because I’m able to find humor in even the most serious of situations. To quote a comment specifically, someone wrote, “You can spin almost anything into a funny and that’s not an easy feat.”

Well, yesterday’s events are going to put that theory to the test.

Upon waking on Saturday morning, I told my family that I was to have no interruptions throughout the entire day because I had a serious backlog of design work to do. And, just as they have every other time I’ve demanded privacy, they completely disregarded my request and made me their gopher, chauffeur, and errand boy.

In the hours that followed my “pretend I’m invisible” declaration, I found myself hauling Dory to the dog groomer, accompanying my family to lunch, making a “fast” trip to the grocery store, and being called down to the police station after an adult pulled a knife on our son threatening to cut him.

Yeah.

Exactly.

NOT the kind of call you want to receive.

But, in hindsight, Dory was starting to look a little shaggy, and the groomer only had a spot open up because someone else had canceled. We had to take it.

Dory’s always so fluffy, proud, and fragrant when she gets home. If I were a dog and I was looking for a deaf, blind, senile girl to settle down with, Dory would be it. She looked pretty sharp.

Much like the knife that was pulled on Andrew that same afternoon.

I had just finished setting up my work station when we got a phone call saying that Andrew had been in a confrontation involving a knife. This in itself was shocking because Andrew is slightly less meek than a mute fawn and half as intimidating.

He’s never been in trouble, he’s never been aggressive, and he’s never been a bully.

But what he HAS been…is a wise ass.

And this time, it almost got him shanked.

This didn’t take place in a back alley or on the floor at some seedy nightclub. It happened at the local Magic shop. Not the kind with handkerchiefs, top hats, and rabbits, but rather the kind with dorks, overpriced unpronounceable playing cards, and the thick stench of B.O. as players sit and fester in their seats.

For those unaware, Magic is a card-based game that pits wizard wannabe’s against other wizard wannabe’s.

The concept of the game is simple: Spend all of your disposable income on booster packs to create a competitive deck of cards that contain made-up powers and fantasies. Once you’ve acquired enough cards to secure a lifetime of involuntary celibacy and permanent residency in your parents’ basement, sit across the table from likeminded nerds and play a glorified version of War complete with spells, creatures, and mythical weapons.

When you’re out of mana or life points or whatever it is that’s used to keep score, you lose. To be honest, I haven’t a clue how it all works. I’ve just gleaned a few buzzwords after overhearing a few conversations. I actually make it a point to refrain from learning more about the game in the interest of sexual preservation.

I couldn’t imagine what kind of confrontation Andrew had gotten into because Magic isn’t like boxing or cagefighting where the sport is known to bring out rage-based aggression. In this game, the risk of injury depends entirely on how sharp the edge of a card might be.

When I arrived at the shop, I was summoned to the back where a police officer was taking a statement from the store owner. The perpetrator was no longer present as he had grabbed his cards and left following the incident. An incident I still wasn’t privy to. All I knew was that a guy in his mid-20′s had pulled a knife on Andrew. But I had no idea what led up to it.

The shop owner explained that Andrew was being a wiseguy and that the guy he was irritating was a known hothead still reeling from a recent loss. Annoyed, the guy told Andrew to shut up. When Andrew didn’t relent, the guy threatened to cut him. When Andrew still didn’t relent, the guy pulled a knife from his pocket, engaged the blade, and extended his arm towards Andrew. He then closed the blade, gathered his deck of virginity insurance, and left.

Andrew, like most 16-year olds, overflows with common sense, so of course he saw no reason to report the incident. He just went back to playing. It’s only after two of his friends mentioned the confrontation to the store owner that myself and the police were called to the scene.

One witness, in predictable fashion, was wearing a Sheldon t-shirt from Big Bang Theory. The other had a “Magic the Gathering” fanny pack. You’d think by looking at the crew scattered about the card shop that it’d be the safest place on earth. A place where you could sit unmolested unless you were a first edition Spider Man comic book.

Initially, I was worried and concerned for Andrew’s safety, but my concern soon shifted to bewilderment and embarrassment as I listened to him share what is now possibly the strangest police report ever filed in our town.

Officer: “We need to paint a story of what happened. Tell me where you were and what you were doing when this occured.”

Andrew: “I was at the Magic shop playing in a tournament. Knife guy and I were dueling each other and he started to eat a bag of potato chips.”

Officer: “Did you see a weapon at that time?”

Andrew: “No, we were just playing. I didn’t say anything mean or offensive while we were playing.”

Officer: “What did you say that got him riled up?”

Andrew: “I said, in a goofy voice, ‘Mmm potato chips…can I lick your fingers?’”

Me: “Wait. What? You asked the dude if you could lick his fingers?”

Andrew: “Yeah, but in a goofy voice.”

Me: “Ah. Of course. Carry on.”

Officer (talking quietly as he typed): “…asked the suspect if I could lick his fingers…”

Andrew: “Um, can you make sure you include that I said it in a goofy voice?”

Officer: “I’ll write that it was in a joking manner. Then what happened.”

Andrew: “When we were finished with our battle, I went over to watch a friend’s game. Knife guy was watching from the other side of the table. He looked at me and I said, “My offer still stands.”

Me (shaking my head): “You are SUCH an idiot. And you wonder why he got irritated with you?”

Andrew: “But I said it in a goofy voice…like this: (channeling his inner asthmatic Yoda)…”My offer still stands.”

Me (head in hands): “No way the D.A. keeps a straight face while reading this.”

Officer (again mumbling as he types): “…I said ‘My offer still stands’…”

Andrew: “Make sure it says goofy voice, please.”

Officer: “How did it get to the point where he pulled a knife?”

Andrew: “He told me to shut up and to stop talking to him. I asked, “Are you sure?” and he said to never talk to him again. So I said, “What if we have to play each other?” And he said, “Don’t talk to me any more or I’ll cut you.”

Officer: “Did you stop talking to him?”

Andrew: “No.”

Me: “Of course not. What sense would that make?”

Officer: “What did you say to him after he threatened to cut you?”

Andrew: “I said, ‘I doubt it.’”

Me: “Are you dumb? Why didn’t you just stop talking? This isn’t a buddy of yours, it’s some guy you don’t know. A 25-year old guy with known anger issues who plays Magic the Gathering with a bunch of teenagers. On the list of instability warning signs, I believe this falls right below “Has an invisible friend.”

(turning to officer)

“He has to be breaking a bunch of common sense statutes, right? Please tell me stupid is a crime.”

Officer: “I wish it were. You have NO idea. Andrew, is this when he brandished the weapon?”

Andrew: “Yes. After I said “I doubt it” he took a big switchblade out of his pocket, opened the blade, and pointed it at me.”

Officer: “How far away were you from the suspect?”

Andrew: “About 3-4 feet.”

Officer: “Did you feel threatened?”

Andrew: “Only when I saw the knife.”

Officer: “Did he say anything to you?”

Andrew: “I don’t remember. I just know he left soon after. Will I be charged with contempt if I don’t remember everything?”

Me: “The only thing you’re in contempt of is logic. In fact, you murdered it.”

As Andrew wrapped up the report, another officer was busy trying to locate “knife guy.” Starting only with his first name, last initial, and the color of his SUV, they were ultimately able to determine his full name, car make and model, license plate, and the location of the basement he was probably living in.

The guy has no prior record, which was somewhat comforting, but we still opted to press charges because of the nature of the incident. While threatening to cut someone is bad enough, actually pointing a blade at someone is a whole ‘nother story. Even if the officers, myself, and the impending jury believes he asked for it.

The officers explained that they’ll be making an arrest and charging “knife guy” with a number of offenses. He’ll also be banned from the shop and served with an order of protection stating that he must stay away from Andrew as well. Because these protective orders are only as effective as the mental state of the respondent, I can’t say I feel completely secure. But hey, he’s not after me.

I thanked the officers for their time and diligence, apologized for my Finger Lickin’ Hoodlum, and escorted Andrew to the parking lot.

Me: “What the hell were you thinking? How could what you were doing possibly end well? When this moron threatened to cut you, why didn’t you just shut up?”

Andrew: “He seemed nice. Liam asked him a question earlier and the guy didn’t get mad.”

Me: “Well, there’s a big difference between “How are you?” and “Can I lick your fingers?”

Andrew: “I usually only talk like that with my friends. I didn’t think he was serious.”

Me: “And THAT, my friend, is how people get killed. You need to realize that some people are nuts. And you’ll never know when you’re saying the wrong thing to the wrong person. Look, your focus needs to be on self-preservation, and being a wise-ass to strangers isn’t the way to do it. You never know how unstable someone is until it’s too late.”

36 hours have now passed and we’re not nearly as jittery over the situation as we were when it first happened. Right now, I’m more irritated by the stupid things he said and the fact that he didn’t report the incident afterward. He should have been the one to make the call, not the shop owner.

I’m not clairvoyant. It’s not a Magic card I possess. So the only way I can protect him is if I’m clued in when someone threatens to shank him over potato chip dust.

Is it to much to ask that I be able to go through life with the confidence knowing that if a stranger were to tell one of my children to shut up or they’ll get cut up, that they’d err on the side of caution and SHUT…THE HELL…UP? Or is the teenage brain so clogged with Clearisil fumes that the common sense neurons fail to fire? Am I being unreasonable?

In light of what happened, it’ll be a while before I let Andrew go back to the Magic shop. I want to see how the legal process plays out and confirm with the shop owner that he meant it when he said this idiot would be eternally banned from the establishment.

Even then, before Andrew is allowed to set one foot in that shop, he’s going to have to exhibit at least a hint of common sense.

And judging by his history? He’s gonna be one dusty wizard by the time that happens.

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