A man races to beat the clock as he wakes up trapped in the horrors of a virtual reality. As he plots his daring escape to return home he finds himself suddenly barricaded. Standing between him and his return are roadblocks that line a multi-level race course. He makes a breakthrough in his journey when he unintentionally shifts one of the obstacles into small groups, and suddenly the passage appears to clear faster. Knowing his survival depended on reaching the end of the road, he works quicker to plow through in order to avoid what could only be impending death.
Ladies and gentlemen, this is the epic story of how millions of global citizens have become addicted to Candy Crush. My father is one of them.
Having not yet had the privy of enjoying the unique obsession and delusion afforded by this game, I have slowly come to realize that unless I give into the grips of this newfound craze, I simply will not be able to relate to those who do.
Me: Dad, I’m going to go walk the dog now. What are you doing?
My dad: I’m playing Sugar Crunch.
Me: (Blink, blink.) What?
My dad: Bye, see you later.
Now, I’m not a parent myself – nor am I anywhere close to becoming one – but I have been told by various sources that parenthood is one of the most fulfilling life achievements one can attain and that children are the most important part of one’s life. Granted, these sources include the following –
- Grown ups with kids.
- My friends with kids.
- The Duggars.
So imagine my frustration one day when I frantically contacted my dad with an urgent issue and received zero communication from the man who is generally very responsive between the hours of 8a-10p. Apparently my problem was urgent enough for me to have been flustered at his lack of an answer, but not enough to remember what it was about.
Luckily, he finally responded to my text messages.
My dad: Hi Sandy, this is Mom using your dad’s phone.
Me: Hello, Mom.
My dad’s phone: Dad says he will call you back later. He is busy playing Candy Crush right now.