To the casual observer on the train in the morning, I’m just a twenty-something man in a shirt and chinos holding an odd looking GameBoy thingy. Little do they know that, from where I’m sitting, there’s carnage on screen. Bj’s blasting Nazis with two machine guns and casually philosophizing about life. Fifteen minutes later the odious Frau Engel has taken center stage wielding an axe. I feel movement to my left as an inquiring passenger glances over to see what I’m doing, and to no doubt wonder what the heck is going on.
There’s something giddy about being in adult company in a respectable domain and letting it rain lead. I also