But now, dear Inklingers, there's Pou.
I know you want to pronounce that like "pow," but don't. It's pronounced "poo," as in crap, feces, shit. And, it's colored and shaped like poo.
They call it an "alien pet." I call it crap.
We have android phones, so I will direct you to the google play store, where you can fully dive into Pou (and please remember to pronounce it "poo" in your head when you are reading this post today, because I will be adding in so many poo puns, it will start to stink).
Sounds like an acid trip from hell, doesn't it? I mean, even when I've been seriously drunk in the past, my poo never actually talked back to me.
My daughter was the first to come across this game and downloaded it to her phone. Then my son, having
acquired Hubby's old phone when he upgraded, downloaded Pou, too (it's not an active phone, no service, no number, he can only play games when he's connected to the wifi at the house).
My daughter named her Pou "Corny." Yeah, she has my sense of humor.
That's when the craziness started. My kids would be glued to their phones, giggling like crazy. When I'd ask what they are doing, I'd get the reply of:
"Playing with my Pou."
Which, yes, came to my ears as "poo," my brain not kicking in to realize it's the "Pou" poo, not the "poo" poo (did you get that?). So, I'd stop whatever I was doing for a second, confused as hell, until my brain popped up "Pou" instead of "poo."
My kids' electronic time each day was soon filled with playing with their Pous. My daughter would rush to get into the car after school, pull out her phone and find that her Pou was sick because she couldn't give it attention while at school during the day.
"Oh no, Mom, my Pou's sick."
Not because my kid's electronic alien pet was sick, but because my brain still registered "poo," not "Pou."
|Your Pou can even get married.|
My kids were playing with a digital pile of crap. WTF?
Hubby had his breaking point with the Pou, too. We went hiking this past weekend, and as we were driving through the park to get to the hiking trail, The Girl noticed she had no cell reception.
The Girl: Dad, I have no cell reception. I didn't get to update my Pou before we got out here. What if he gets sick?
Hubby: We're having a family day, outdoors. No cell phones.
The Girl: What? No cell phones?
Hubby: Yep. None. I'm tired of you playing on it so much, anyway. Give it to your mom.
(Kids hand over their phones to me.)
Hubby: I tell you what. If you really want, I can take a crap in a bowl for you and put it on your bedside table. You can talk to it, pet it, clean it, dress it, feed it all you want, if you really want to play with poo. If you don't want to play with poo, then I suggest you uninstall the game, because you sound ridiculous when you talk about having to play with your Pou.
I'm pleased to say that The Girl informed me this morning that she has uninstalled Pou. She said it got boring. I think her dad's words hit her hard and she realized she was too old to play shitty games.
The Ginger still has his Pou installed, but now that his sister has uninstalled it, I'm sure he'll follow suit.
Then we can go back to being a family who doesn't talk about poo, keeps poo behind locked bathroom doors, and flushes poo out of our lives.
Instead of a family who plays with Pou.
God help us all with whatever the video game and app companies come up with next. Maybe a vagina-shaped alien pet called "Hoo Ha" and a penis-shaped alien pet called "Ding Ding," so my kids can play with their Hoo Ha and Ding Ding all day.
I'm not even sure if that's better or worse than playing with Pou. It's all shit. All of it.
And it seriously stinks.