Recent reviews by J.J. Flamingo

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Hello, little man. Boy, I sure heard a bunch about you. See, I was a good friend of your dad's. We were in that Hanoi pit of hell together over five years. Hopefully, you'll never have to experience this yourself, but when two men are in a situation like me and your dad were for as long as we were, you take on certain responsibilities of the other. If it'd been me who'd - not made it, Major Coolidge'd be talking right now to my son Jim. But the way it turned out, I'm talking to you. Butch. I got somethin' for ya. This copy of Bad Rats I got here was first purchased by your great-grandfather during the first World War. It was bought during a summer sale in Knoxville, Tennessee,. Made by the first company to ever make Bad Rats. Up 'til then, people just watched real cats and mice. It was bought by Private Doughboy Erine Coolidge on the day he set sail for Paris. This was your great-grandfather's copy of Bad Rats and he played it everyday he was in that war, and when he'd done his duty, he went home to your great-grandmother, uninstalled the copy, put it on a flash drive, and on that flash drive it stayed until your granddad, Dane Coolidge, was called upon by his country to go overseas and fight the Germans once again. This time they called it World War II.

Your great-grandfather gifted this game to your granddad for good luck. Unfortunately, Dane's luck wasn't as good as his old man's. Dane was a Marine and he was killed -- along with all the other Marines at the battle of Wake Island. Your granddad was facing death. He knew it. None of those boys had any illusions about ever leavin' that island alive, so three days before the Japanese took the island, your granddad asked a gunner on an Air Force transport, name of Winocki - a man he had never met before in his life - to gift to his infant son who he'd never seen in the flesh, his copy of bad rats. Three days later, your granddad was dead, but Winocki kept his word. After the war was over, he paid a visit to your grandmother, gifting to your infant father his dad's copy of Bad Rats. This copy. (He pulled up the copy of Bad Rats on Steam - and paused) This copy of Bad Rats was on your daddy's hard drive when he was shot down over Hanoi. He was captured, put in a Vietnamese prison camp. He knew that if the ♥♥♥♥♥ ever saw the game, it'd be confiscated and taken away. The way your Dad looked at it, this game was your birthright. He'd be damned if any slope's gonna start a file on his boy's birthright, so he hid it in one place he knew he could hide something - his ass. Five long years he wore this game up his ass. Then, he died of dysentery. He gifted me the copy. I hid this uncomfortable poorly coded game up my ass two years. Then, after seven years, I was sent home to my family. Now, little man, I gift this copy of Bad Rats to you.