Why I deserve a Nintendo Wii

A couple of weeks ago, my sister emailed me to inform me of a radio contest in her area. They were taking submissions from listeners about why they deserve a Nintendo Wii, and awarding two winners a day for a week.

I didn't win (by the time I got to writing my entry, it was already Thursday night), but here it is:

Unlike many others, whose motivation for a Nintendo Wii stems merely from a selfish desire for a technological plaything, my need for a Wii stems from a deeply personal tale of tragedy, heroism, and a promise I made that I will never forget.

I was carrying out my annual tradition of volunteering to provide presents in the guise of Santa Claus to Saint Mary Agnes' Oprhanage for the Lonesome and Forgotten, when I met the most extraordinary youg man. Little Timmy had been placed in the orphanage at the tender age of 5, when he had been maimed in the car accident that killed his parents.

Tragically, they had been involved in a head-on collision with his only remaining grandparents as they were both driving home to celebrate Christmas, when they hit a patch of ice an the road. Ironically, the family forture had been transferred to bearer bonds the day of the accident, and burned along with the wreckage, leaving Little Timmy not only missing an arm and a leg, but destitute as well.

As Little Timmy, now 7, came and sat on my lap, I could not help but tear up at the sight of him. Little Timmy had not had the medical coverage to provide him with a prosthetic arm and leg, and had to bear an iron hook in place of his hand and a wooden peg leg. Still, I soldiered on, and asked Little Timmy what he wanted. "Santa," he asked, "will you bring my family back to me?". My voice cracked as I told him "I'm afraid I can't do that right now, they're with God now, so they can watch over you from heaven".

"I understand, Santa", Little Timmy said, and I marvelled at his strength. "Do you think I could get a Nintendo Wii instead? Everyone says they're so much fun, and Mommy and Daddy can watch me play from heaven." The orphanage only had a small 6 inch, black and white screen TV, but Little Timmy's eyes shone bright with the promise of things to come. "Santa will see what he can do," I replied, adding with a confidential wink "you know, Santa wouldn't mind having one of those himself."

We both chuckled to ourselves over our little joke, when we were interrupted by the sound of breaking glass. Four figures rushed inside the room. The orphanage had been invaded by an Al-Qaeda sleeper cell. Apparently, they had devised their most heinous plan yet, to hold those most unfortunate Americans - our orphans - as hostages while they negotiated the release of convicted terrorists in Guantanamo Bay.

Setting Little Timmy down, I told him, "Let Santa handle this menace." Swinging my sack of toys around my head, I hurled it at the nearest terrorist knocking him out cold. I heard the sickening crunch of shattered toys as I took out the second with a roundhouse to the face, bitterly musing that there would be no toys this year. The remaining terrorists aimed their guns at me and opened fire, but I arched backward out the line of fire, like in the Matrix, and in one swift move, slung the heavy belt buckle that was part of my Santa outfit in a wide arc, knocking out the remaining two terrorists. Then, I saw movement out of the corner of my eye, and noticed one more hitherto unnoticed terrorist leap from the window into the street. I burst out of the window to chase him down, only to stop dead in my tacks, mouth agape.

It was none other than Osama bin Laden himself. He smiled evilly as he levelled a pistol straight at my heart. "Farewell, you decadent American swine", he leered. I winced, and shut my eyes, as I heard the shot fire. But I didn't feel anything. Slowly, I opened my eyes. Little Timmy staggered before me and fell to the ground in a crumpled heap. The sound of sirens rang out, and Osama dropped his gun and fled. I knelt down to pick up the fallen angel who had rescued me.

He was looking bad. He wasn't going to make it. Black blood seeped out of a wound in his stomach. Tears began to fall from my eyes. It began to rain softly.

"Santa," Timmy began, as he gripped my fingers tightly, "is that God crying?" "Yes," I replied, "God is crying, along with your parents. They're happy that you're coming home." "I never did get to see the Wii," he sighed regretfully. "Santa," ... His voice was fading ... "will you play it for me? I want to watch you play from heaven." "It's a promise," I replied. Little Timmy smiled at me warmly. His eyes closed. I felt his little hand squeeze my fingers once more, and then they went limp.

He was gone.

The rain began to pour.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!", I cried. "WHY, GOD, WHY?!?!! TAKE ME INSTEAD!!!!!"

But sadly, my prayers fell on deaf ears.

To this day, I have tried to fulfill my promise to Timmy as he died in my arms. The success of the Wii has made it impossible for me to find one, and until then, Timmy's soul will never rest. At the last store I tried, they said they had sold their entire remaining stock to fulfill a radio promotion.

Please, send me a Nintendo Wii. Do it so Little Timmy, who died bravely fighting the War on Terror, can finally rest.