I grew up in Goodna, a derelict outer suburb of Brisbane. This is a place where people are anti-semetic, even though there ARE NO FUCKING SEMITES, Australias Jewish population is tiny, and Brisbanes numbers in the high hundreds. So that gives you an idea of the level of ignorant hate I was surrounded by, these people hated a minority, so minor, that it couldn't fill a stadium. That, that is true red-neckery.

I hated these people from the word go, mostly cause I could outwit the adults who lurched about waitng to get drunk again. I never wanted to be them, I hate them, and to this day I get people asking, "Where are you from"?, cause I don't sound like them.

So I was surprised when I discovered I hated an asian, which, given the "White Australia Policy" and the thoughts that spawned it, scared me as a well thought out 11 year old.

Then I realized it was okay because this kid was an 8 year old devil sent to fuck with me and here's why...

His parents owned the local Vietnamese corner store, where I would go to get milk and strange energy drinks, it also had Super Street Fighter 2 Turbo, for a DOLLAR FOR 3 CREDITS!!!

I thought my dreams had come true, but that little bastard ruined them at every turn.

Every time I showed up to play, he'd challenge me, now Turbo is a fucking hard game by itself, go on, download the rom, set it to easiest and tell me otherwise, but this kid made the computer look like it had learned compassion.

Everything I did got punished. I jumped, he leaped straight up and cancelled me with the perfect attack. I ducked and he either threw me or overheaded me into a combo. I turtled, in a desperate attempt to survive and he picked my defence appart like so much fairy floss.
He was an SNK boss incarnate, I couldn't touch him, I began to rate victory by whether or not he got a perfect.

I began to stake the place out to see if he was around, and just when I thought it was safe, He'd approach, and fuck my shit right up. He didn't even ask if it was cool to challenge (the DEADLY SIN of 2s fighters), he'd just toss his coin in and rape me.

Maybe he didn't have the English skills to ask, but if that's the case then what he was doing to me was akin to me wandering into his house and showing off my grasp of English, "Look at me, I am speaking fluent English. How is the weather? Australias dualist electoral landscape results in a dictatorship of mindless halfwits", and other common phrases. But for whatever reason, he kept at it. And after a while I realized...

I was learning, each time I got to him a little, he was like a grizzled martial arts master, not explaining what he does through words, but through action. He was tempering me, against the greatest foe a 2d fighter can have, a young Vietnamese or South Korean kid.

I hated him for ages, as he spoiled a fun game, but now I realize, he made me the badass I am today.

Thank you Master.