To The Stranger Who Hogged the Dance Dance Revolution Machine,

How do you sleep at night? How were you able to freely dance to “Everytime We Touch” for the twelfth time in a row, when there were five people waiting for their turn behind you? Sure, we all secretly rooted for you to fail, but these desires were never uttered above a whisper, and I felt guilty for even having those desires; my fantasy of you failing was never even a real possibility due to your Michael Jackson level of dancing ability, but my guilt was real. Your ability to simultaneously dance and dodge eye contact from me no matter where I stood rivals only Stalin’s lack of remorse.

Most of society and I were under the impression that two Dance Dance Revolution screens were meant for two players, but somehow you spread your arms and legs so wide that it was not feasible to play the other machine. I had barely inserted one token when your hand smacked me in the shoulder. Throughout the night, I was amazed as innocent people would attempt to play the other machine only to be smacked or kicked by you every single instance. However, you consistently were blissfully unaware or intentionally ignored your victims.

After you verbally agreed to give me the next turn, how did you manage to play four more games and hit “continue” like an empathy-lacking sociopath? To be honest, I was bewildered, but also somewhat impressed at this unprecedented lack of caring for other people. How did you ask me to watch your gallon jug of water without a second thought or an inkling of remorse? Normally, a person would feel at least a little bad about turning a fun dancing arcade game into their own personal gym on a busy Saturday night, but here you are defying societal norms.

I didn’t believe a human being could be capable of accidentally or maybe intentionally splattering me with sweat and never apologizing for it. When you noticed your sweat on my face, you recommended that I move. Somehow, I found myself apologizing for standing in the way of your projectiling sweat. How were you capable of asking me to hold your sweat-drenched towel and furthermore, why did I agree? You ran out of tokens and like no human ever before, found the audacity to ask to borrow mine.

What godly powers enabled you to ask me to hold your spot, cut me off mid-sentence, and then return with more tokens to play another game without remorse? After I waited an hour and a half, the arcade closed. Then, you looked me in the eye for the first time that night, said “better luck next time” with a wink, and walked away with your water bottle and gym towel.

Tell me sir: how do you sleep at night?

As a society, we need to build a special, maximum security cell for an inconsiderate monster such as yourself. Personally, I think even Guantanamo Bay is too good for you; you would hog all the showers. If we can just relocate you to an island with no inhabitants but yourself, I think all of society would greatly benefit.

Written With This Thing Called Empathy,
A Chuck E. Cheese Patron