Summer 1986, Karate Kid II was out. My first cinematic adventure could have been watching Ralph Macchio kicking blokes in the head and destroying ice with his bare hands. Instead, I was left with a crippling sadness and the sense that nothing would ever be the same again. Mummmy picked Bambi.
I still remember the comforting whiff of fresh popcorn and the startlingly deafening 'Ba Ba Bas' of that Pearl & Dean ad. Soon, as I shovelled sweeties in my gob, charming, bright-eyed fluffy creatures, bounded through sun-kissed, flower-lined glens. And then...
A thunderous gunshot. Whoa.
"Mother...Where are you?"
Cue much disconsolate wailing.
"How about an ice-lolly?" came mum's desperate, placating offer.
No mummy. There will be no ice-lollies today. From now on, there is only darkness, psychological trauma and the harrowing inevitability of oblivion.
Expecting harmless, blissful Summer fun, I was now saddled with a haunting sense of my own fragile mortality and the knowledge that the ones we love can so easily be snatched away.
Years later, I finally saw Karate Kid II on VHS. It was a bit naff. But at least no-one died.
Cheers, Mum.
"...For man with no forgiveness in heart, life worth punishment than death." - Mr Miyagi.
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