Nonna Next Door: Call Of Duty

I come home from a hard day of watching YouTube videos and I decided to float off into the bliss that is Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2. The best game in the world if you didn’t know. Don’t get me started on Battlefield – that is another story.

So I’m playing right?

Headshot, fuck yeah.

Five kill streak- fuck yeah.

And as I’m about to lay into the chum camping on the opposing building of the map High Rise –  with my Blue Tiger Intervention –  thermal sight, Nonna busts in sweeping the hardwood floors with this little blue fluff mop that kicks around the house.

“Nonna,” I say. “Oh excuse-a me,” she says innocently. She is just being her cute little self.

I’m trying to get her out of the way of the television so I can get my Harrier, then a Chopper Gunner, then a Nuke at 25 kills.

Her hair is dark brown now, she had it died. Maybe she is trying to swindle a new man into her life. One thing is for sure Nonna, you ain’t fooling anyone with that hair.

With her dollar store slippers and all – she sweeps around the house meticulously –  pitter-pattering around Buddy who is wrapped up like a baby next to the fridge. I can see Buddy with his sad little eyes through the baby gate we use to keep him trapped in the kitchen. All he wants is love, Nonna provides that love by swaddling him up like baby Jesus.

She makes her way back into the room where I’m trying my best to capture C.

“You see the newspaper? You see the Pope?” she asks me. “Yes Nonna I do.”

I read the newspaper like a religion. However Nonna is referring to the copy of Macleans laying on the glass table in front of me, scattered with new issues of Travis and other great literature read in the Burton residence.

This is an old issue, as the new one just came out – but the cover is of a photo of the Pope with his back facing the photographer.

She leans in, points at the paper with her index finger, raising the magazine it into my view.

“The Vaticano cover up,” she says to me. She is looking right at me, one foot away from me, trying to obstruct my view of my eight kill streak. I’m always entertained by the way she pronounces english words to make them sound mort Italian. The “o” on Vatican just came out of nowhere.

“Oh I read,” I say to her trying to concentrate but still being polite.

“Some-a-priest, they traitor – not even God can save.” Her hands raise to the sky when she says the word God. Nonna is now speaking to God, connecting with God, feeling his pressence while I mercilessly work on my sniper skills.

She gives up after that. I know what she is trying to do. This is all a part of her silly urge to control everything around her. Call Of Duty is a really good game though – really good.

“If you no like or if you no care, whatever you like.” She walks away and proceeds to push the fluffy mop around the house.

The last thing she said to me – well it’s difficult to understand of what she means. Is she being rude? Or is she being silly old Nonna? Probably a combination of the two. She probably prays for me every night. Me and my Intervention sniper rifle.

One thing is for sure, with that full frock of died brown hair –  the old guys at the Mall better watch out –  Nonna is on the scene.

-Michael Burton

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