Ta-Da!

Recently, my Xbox 360, Sir Scrimshaw gave up a year-long battle with red ring. So it goes. No amount of towels or thread counts could resurrect him this time. All of Linens N' Things employees and all of their stockmen couldn't put my 360 back together again. I requested EVAC from the good people at 1-800-4MYXBOX, but with an expired warranty and no current red ring problem, ordering a cardboard coffin would cost $100. If only there was an affordable alternative. So, I gave him a proper burial and then decided to get a newer 360 that wasn't as pre-disposed to manufacturing flaws as the late Scrimshaw was. I think I should also mention that I put off reading his last rites for about three months. I simply lived with his rotting corpse and was only motivated to find a solution recently when a certain something started approaching over the distant horizon.

I bought a used Arcade system from GameStop for $170. After "Jumping In©" and finding the perfect scars and facial hair for my avatar, who sort of resembles a Rapturian version of Count Count, I was back to shooting swastikas and having restraining orders issued against me. That was until the next day. . . I tried to open the disc tray. I tried again. " The third time's a charm, right?" "WROoOoOoNG," the infernal beast's inner trinketry whispered, or at least the cooling fans made a noise that sounded similar to that. God dammit... So it goes again.

Constipated 360 in-tow, I headed off to GameStop and explained to the manager that in less than 12 hours after buying it, the disc tray was jammed. I suggested an exorcism, a choo-choo train of oil, etc. We settled on plugging it in and doing a physical. The manager employed the same strategy that I had previously and went about pressing the eject button repeatedly. The tray made lethargic attempts to go forward and backward, but didn't get far before stopping completely. This fruitless poking and prodding went on for another minute in complete silence. Finally, the tray went all of the way into the console and also made a full journey back. The laconic manager kept poking without any emotion, watching the tray poke out of the machine and go back in, possibly fantasizing about playing whac-a-tray.

All of a sudden, right when the tray was making another trip out of the innards of the 360, it had a copy of Halo 3 sitting in it. The manager and I both looked at each other in disbelief, making sure the other had also born witness to this magic trick. Once this was confirmed we both lost it. While he told his employees exactly what he just saw, I stood there looking at the console wondering how that was possible. Maybe it wasn't an Arcade system. It could have been a prototype of a new SKU that accidentally got released, the Xbox 360 Shark. What other stolen treasures lay inside it's metallic stomach? Maybe the previous owner had it modded with an improbability drive. Maybe it was separated from its young, mistook me for its baby and gave me an offering of regurgitated gamefood. Then the cold, hard reality set in that I was one in a long history of owners who owned this evil machine, which had a healthy appetite for gobbling up physical media.

I thought about returning it, but after thinking about him being the David Blaine of GameStop that night, I reconsidered. . . plus it came with a one year warranty. . . plus I used it as an excuse to get a new copy of Fallout 3 to replace my original one, which was damaged in an unrelated case. Sure I got angry, sure I scolded him, however, I couldn't stay mad at him after that. I suppose it was comparable to your cute, boxy, bone white puppy vomiting or shitting out a porcelain Precious Moments figurine that fell from the china cabinet. He could even have a bright future in the Console Carnival industry. If Microsoft customer support has taught me anything it's that there's money to be made off of even the most defective litter of God's children.