Why, when I was young all we had as games were bits of string and a worn out rubber band. Sometimes the cat would lose its fur and then we could have a bonus round. And, if we were very lucky, Dad would come home drunk, light trashcans on fire and throw them at us. And mom, when she'd get coked up, would take out the shotgun and randomly shoot at us.
I'm not complaining, mind you, just letting you know that I've been training my whole life for this opportunity! I'm ready to win, coach!