At first, I think he’s just muttering those hyphenated curses that he reserves for the times I beat him in Wario Ware.  But he’s not.

Instead of throwing a temper-tantrum, flicking me off, or telling me my Mom is a “whore-bitch-AIDS-cunt,” Timmy McFedderin remains quiet, save for a few grunts and strange whispers, after every Wii Sports Resort game we play. I thought he had calmed down a whole bunch because of the new medication he’s on, but after one of those rare flukes when I lost a tennis match to him, he let out a sigh of relief, bowed his head, and clearly said: “Thank you, Jesus Christ, for letting me win.”

I mean, I get it. Some uber-religious athletes will thank God for helping them compete to the best of their abilities, but I don’t even think the McFedderins belongs to a Church. I’ve slept over enough times to know his Mom is never around on Saturday night, but staggers into the house Sunday morning and takes a really long nap for most of the afternoon. That’s when I own Timmy in Swordplay until he cries (“Who’s your Daddy? I am!”).

Come to think of it, I have only met Mr. McFedderin once. He was on his way to pick up some cigarettes.

He doesn’t go to church! So it’s like his prayers are part of some made-up Manson Family cult. If that cult’s only membership requirement is to be embarrassingly bad at Power Sliding.

But this is missing the point. Let’s be clear. Timmy McFedderin is a cheater. It’s totally illegal to pray that your friends lose to you in a video game, especially when your friend is discernibly better than you at every game you own from Tetris to Mario Party.

Of all the weird shit he’s said to me, mostly about how he was gonna strangle me with a belt if I “don’t-wipe-that-stupid-smirk-off-my-faggot-lips,” these prayers take the cake. He once told me after beating Scribblenauts in two days that the reason he won was because God was on his side, and no one else’s.

I told him that my mom was expecting me for dinner and ran away, even though it was only three in the afternoon.

Once, I thought he was doing pilates or some other Wii Fit game he’s terrible at, but it turned out he was saying a quick Hail Mary before I walked in the room. He tried to play it off like he was cleaning a disc with his shirt, but I could hear him say something about how he deserved to win way more than I did because “Patrick is a terrible person who uses drugs and tries to finger innocent girls while they’re sleeping.” The only drug I must have taken was the one that makes me so much better than him at table tennis that he needs to turn to the supernatural for support!

Here’s the truth: I don’t even like the Wii. I don’t own one. But my family is Catholic and I think God is a little too busy making sure good families stick together and stopping Chinese people from aborting girl-babies to worry about some spaz who’s not even good at the one activity that he spends most of his time doing! Any time he beats me in Bowling, he crosses himself! And now I feel like I have to win as much as possible, so I can stop him from believing that God would actually listen to him!

Timmy is naturally inclined to suck at video games. It’s probably because God hates him for wasting so much of His time!

Timmy’s controller finally broke when he dowsed it in Holy Water that he stole from St. Angela’s parish. ‘My buttons are sticking, that’s why you won!’ he said, after I beat him for the 70-bagillioneth time.

The only time Timmy gave up his awkward praying was when his brother told us we could use his laptop to look at some porn.

Additional reporting from Hardcasual’s own Daniel Wilbur.