I Can’t Stop Looking at Pictures of Crash Bandicoot

By AJ Leal

I can’t stop looking at pictures of the classic, furry, video game icon, Crash Bandicoot.

That’s it. There’s no joke to it. I’m not kidding; I can’t stop myself from googling his quirky name when I have some downtime. I’d save the pictures, but that totally removes from the thrill of the chase, and my boss keeps telling me that it makes the people who use the computer after me “uncomfortable”.

You know I own (owned?) a bandicoot. I named him Crash haha. I spray-painted him orange every single day because for whatever reason nature really messed up by not following the example set forth by Naughty Dog and making them that iconic orange. He started to smell.

I should have mentioned this earlier, but if you have any pictures of Crash Bandicoot, I would greatly appreciate them. I’m not giving you my address because haters have sent me pictures of Vivica Fox instead. I didn’t ask for any stupid pictures of Vivica Fox; I asked for pictures of Crash Bandicoot.

That being said, I know what you’re thinking. You can fuck off.

I’m not sending you any pictures of Crash Bandicoot. They should be for my eyes only. I, of course, view the BEST pictures. I can’t right now, seeing as I’m not in my home. They tell me this place is my new home but it’s much too white. Bright. White. Lights.

My only home is with you, Crash- wait a minute. It’s been awhile since I’ve seen Mr. Bandicoot haha. Will I stay here forever? What if that means I can never see Crash ever AGAIN? I mean…Mr. Bandicoot haha.

You know, if you look at dried blood under a certain light, it seems orange. I just need a splash of orange.

IT ISN’T WRONG TO LOOK AT what is definitely the defining face of the video game industry in the late 1990’s. Look at that lovable snout. Obviously, you can’t look because I’m not showing you any pictures. Nice try, though. You almost got me there. I can’t see those pictures either, though. I’ve almost forgotten-NO. I can’t forget. Fuck you.

This isn’t about you. I don’t care if you want these pictures, no wait, I do care. I just want to talk about me for a second though. I came here to discuss the delicious throbs of euphoria shooting through my very arteries when I see pictures of my furry friend. Hahaha it’s so silly that he’s wearing jeans. Animals don’t need jeans hahaha. Don’t even get me STARTED on those sneakers! Please don’t talk to me about his captivating green eyes, charming in their juvenile, rebellious nature. FUCK, I miss him.

I’LL NEVER SEE CRASH AGAIN WHAT THE FUCK AM I-get a hold of yourself, lad, you’ve sacrificed more for less.

I wish I could piss. I haven’t been able to piss ever since the last time I saw him. What if he’s waiting for me? What if he can’t get to me because I’m in here? I can only know if I Google him but I CAN’T!

I CAN’T GOOGLE PICTURES OF CRASH BANDICOOT!

I tried escaping by swallowing a bobby pin and now it’s just stuck in the back of my throat. If it rips my vocal cords, I can spit blood in the vague shape of that perfect, zany smile. Maybe? I wish it was good enough.

Maybe I’ll just have to play their game and tell them I’ll stop. Maybe I’ll accept those ridiculous pictures of Vivica Fox from my family with a carved smile on the wooden façade that would be my face.

I DON’T CARE IF IT’S BEEN THREE HUNDRED AND FORTY THREE DAYS SINCE I’VE SEEN YOU FUCKING CRETINS, YOU DON’T NEED ME CRASH NEEDS ME. CRASH-…he’s waiting for me.

I KNOW he’s out there waiting for me. Maybe…you won’t need to wait any longer, Crash.

I’m coming. I promise.