Now I may not be a fancy city slicker that can lay a few bombs down with relative ease like downing a snappy mint julep on a hot summer's eve. I may not have the reflexes of a spry Alabama panther upon a dusty trail in search of its daily vittles. And I may not be able to dodge explosions like a Hollywood movie star drenched with Vaseline sweat and the rich blood spatter of stunt doublemen! But I'll tell you what I can do: I can plug in my sun-drenched cartridge of Mega Bomberman for the Sega Genesis, sit back in my oak rocking chair, and reminisce with no one in particular about better days.

Now I think it's time I speak of a different land out there, one not covered with toasted brown cornfields. I speak of a land far, far in the sky. No, I'm not telling a tall tale, no sir, for beyond the crisp blue skies that sparkle in every boy and girl's eyes is indeed another world, another planet, dare I be so bold! The folks there call it "Bomber Planet", and it's home to some of the nicest down-to-earth characters you could ever meet! And I know, they don't come from Earth, but indeed, if they were here, they'd be down to it! For this I am sure, as sure as I am that a lemonade on a summer's day is pure delight! But all wasn't well up yonder! Though evil is as scarce as hen's teeth, it did arrive in the form of mechanical varmints under the rule of the unfriendly Bagular, turning the entire planet cattywampus! May they choke on their hush puppies tonight, yes indeed.

But there was a young lad with the bread basket to stand up to those no-good boot-licking scoundrels! His name was "Bomberman", with mighty spheres for hands, though this did not bring him down. And with a hearty supply of bombs in pack, he ventured into the many now severed regions of his heartland, be they volcanic as the peak of Mount St. Helens, icy as the serene glaciers of the Arctic frontlines, or even haunted as the castle occupied by a ferocious vampire of the night. Ah, my sincerest apologies! I didn't mean to frighten the young'uns with such scary talk. And he faced against the more formidable of formidables before escaping the horrors of these worlds, towering cog-crunching beasts with bright, glimmering eyes. But Bomberman persevered despite the pressure, only finding that dastardly Bagular to be of any trouble.

He certainly didn't take on this glorious opportunity alone, or without assistance! No, though skill was the main force of reason and survival during his strenuous adventures, this "Bomberman" got to pick up a few extra bits of purdy, purdy power-ups to keep him afloat like a majestic log rustling its way down the mighty Mississippi River. Could be extra bombs, could be improving his firepower, could even be the ability to lay a whole bunch of bombs in a row like cockle shells! I don't know, I'm not an expert on such tizzying things! I'm merely a man seeking justice, the truth, and a cool breeze across my brow. Stranger yet, this young fellow can also hop aboard a kangaroo-like creature called a Looie, a first for this "Bomberman". But aside from giving him an extra hit in life, he's no 'count! He's a good-for-nothing beast!

But I digress.

Whether riding in a cart or fighting a giant crab, Bomberman is ready for action. And delicious crab meat.

In my leisure time, I like to nestle snuggly in my rocking chair and overlook the plains, miring about when I was face to face with the great General Custer. No, not the famous one, just a fellow who calls himself that and operates a fried chicken shack down by the bayou, by and by, of course. But he was great, he was. Anyhow, while I ponder the imponderables of my youth, the folks of Planet Bomber often jiggle their hoecakes by facin' off in grandiose fashion in a massive duel to the death! We use pistols where I come from for our duels, but they use bombs! They brawl in their arenas, just as they had done for many years. Up to four Bombermen can scuffle at once, but only one can walk away the victor. It's not really much of a duel with four people, but to each his own, I say. And they seem to sprawl back to life like the katydids of the spring, still smiling in the sunshine as though they'd never have lost their short lives. It must be some wild party game, for they certainly enjoy it. May not be just to blow each other up, but that's the way they play. Who am I but a jaded countryman to say what's right or wrong on Planet Bomber?

In my time, people took things slowly. There was never any rush to get things done. Seems to me that the folks on Planet Bomber feel the same way sometimes. That might explain why, when there are too many critters roaming about, he stutters to an awful crawl. Might have something to do with slowing down to admire the colourful surroundings. 'Course, it does give him more time with his many thoughts, but it really keeps his journey moving slow. Can't wait forever to take down a bad guy, as my grandpapa used to say before he'd down a quart of castor oil and head down the road. In all seriousness, folks, sometimes this Bomberman just shuffled a bit too slowly. He really needed to pick up the pace. The midday junebugs were outrunning him, for Heaven's sake! I imagine they might've been a titch distracted by the jazzy music that wafted through the air like a strum of a coonskin banjo on a midsummer's eve. They have music on Planet Bomber, so I hear, and it is indeed uplifting enough to make you slap your pappy.

But again, I digress.

Snowmen that are resistant to explosion heat? That's it, game over! Life complete!

So to conclude my case... ummm... well, this is plenty awkward. I'm afraid I've forgotten the case I was pleading. Well, as the tailor of fine novelty white suits says, "You need to pay for this." What I'm trying to say is that while Bomberman's adventure was indeed novel, I'm sure he's had much better gaieties considering how out of kilter his trip truly was in saving his fine, fine people. Now I need to leave you fine folks and grab a root. Maybe some delicious okra and a baked possum pie.