One summer day when I was eleven, Mom, Dad, and I had plans to go to the zoo. For the previous three weeks, however, I had been pilfering quarters from Dad’s change bowl and burying them in Mom’s flower bed next to the front porch (perhaps this was overly cautious). That morning, I’d decided to dig up my treasure and head to the Electric Animal and Screen Door— a video arcade located on the meager downtown strip in Delaware. It was filled with twenty-somethings gambling on games of Joust, Q* bert, and Frogger, their lighted cigarettes balancing on the edge, burning brown lines into the plastic casings.

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