And ye shall know it by its true name:
Chuck E. Cheese.
This story did not surprise me: Moms Brawl at Chuck E. Cheese
No, what surprises me is that it doesn't happen every day in those hell-holes known as Chuck E. Cheese.
I mean, what kind of stupid herd following SUCKERS are we moms? That we take large groups of small children into a swirling cacophony of blaring discordant sounds of what is supposed to be music, constantly wailing bells and sirens from video games, amplified voices distorted into unrecognizable syllables, screaming overstimulated children who are usually terrified of the dancing mechanical animals, and adults on the verge of nervous breakdowns screaming at children.
We then put into our mouths and bodies the slimiest pools of grease and flour and tomato paste and call it "pizza". We wash it down with water and high fructose corn syrup mixed with chemical colors and flavors. Then follow it up with lard and even more HFCS mixed with flour and call it "birthday cake".
Then we deal with diarrhea and vomiting and behavior issues from strung out, chemically altered children all night.
And we call it fun. We say we must do it for the children. Because the children enjoy it so.
I'll tell you a secret. When my child got birthday invitations to that place, if it wasn't from an immediate family member, I'd throw it away.
And if it were a family member, someone would get horribly, contagiously ill the day before the party.
Loki sez: I went there once. It was horrible. I still have nightmares!