CHAPTER THREE: Book Work

I played Ms. Pac-Man at my local laundry mat.  Since my somebody might steal my clothes if I don't keep an eye on my dryer, I can't really play it with my total, full brain attention.  This is the definition of a third person camera system. It's way, up far above this electric arena that I'm gobbling dots in.  It does't move, nor should it.  That would be nauseating.  More than the overwhelming odor of bleach and body odor in this place.  I'm not good at it and I think somebody just swiped a sock, so I gotta wrap this up.  If I had to change the camera position, I'd put it on Ms. Pac-Man's head.  Then it would be like "Wolfenstein", the most violent game ever invented.  And the camera would be able to shoot bullets.  Bullets of lava.