WARHAMMER


When I met my new roommate, Mitchell, I thought he was normal. He worked in security. During the week that he moved in, he was very quiet, he kept to himself, and he was always respectful. He had a girlfriend, and the week after moving in he was often gone. I thought, “Great, he has a life.”

Then came Warhammer.

One Saturday morning I woke up late. I went through my usual wake-up routine. One: check the bed for a woman. Nope—yet again. Two: open eyes and, staring at the ceiling, feel depressed. Three: decide it’s pointless to think about it, smile, and move on.

I walked downstairs to the kitchen to make breakfast. The stairs are creaky, but I’m a light walker and I never make a sound. I could be a ninja if I wanted to. Seriously.

Mitchell was already up, sitting at the dining table. I snuck up behind him and said hi. He jumped and dropped a sausage.

“Hey, Space Boy, I didn’t hear you come down the stairs. What are you, a ghost?”

I gave him a serious look. “No. I'm a ninja. Obviously.”

“Oh, I’ve been wanting to show you something! Remember what I was talking about a couple weeks ago?”

“Oh yeah—” A couple weeks ago, was he mad? I didn’t have the faintest clue.

“Come on!” Grudgingly, I followed him back upstairs.

In his room he pulled a chair up to his desk. He swung a work lamp with a 5-inch magnifying lens over the desk and turned it on. The halogen light pierced the already bright room like a Jedi light saber. I squeezed my eyes shut and looked away.

“No, go ahead. You’ll want to use it!”

I sat in the chair. He opened his closet and pulled out a large shoebox. Its lid was fastened down with twine. Sitting on his bed, he untied the knot and removed the lid carefully, as if whatever was inside might jump out. Intrigued, I adjusted myself to get a better look.

Mitchell took a deep breath and, cupping it in his hands, he removed a small wrapped object. Then he removed another, and another. He lined them up on the bed. Inside the box were dozens more, neatly stacked. The tissue paper that protected the objects was not crumbled, but methodically folded. And, like an archeologist unwrapping a mummy, Mitchell began to slowly peal back the paper from one of the mysterious objects.

What could it be, I wondered. China? Rare jade? An ancient fossil? Jewelry? Scenes from movies like Jumanji, Indiana Jones, and Tomb Raider filled my head. I was starting to think that it was going to be an interesting day, that my new roommate was going to be an interesting guy. Maybe even a ninja, like me.

He took a deep breath and held it in. “This,” he said, still holding his breath as if savoring a particularly good drag of jeeba, “…is Warhammer!”

He held up a 2-inch pig wearing armor.


“Oh...” I blinked, mouth slightly open.

“It’s my first conversion!”

“Wow. Congratulations.”

“Thanks! Well, check it out! Check it out under the lens!”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to break it….”

“Nah! I use the best plastic epoxy. Here, hold him. Feel his weight! He’s a field commander!”

“Gosh, is he really a field commander? Impressive…yeah, he sure feels like a commander. Listen, I’m really hungry.”

But Mitchell had me take a better look at Warhammer. And under the magnifying glass, I discovered what I already knew: Warhammer was simply a plastic pig-man figurine sporting armor and a battleaxe. Some of “him” was painted, but he wasn’t complete. Yet.

“I have a whole army of them.” He gestured to the shoebox. “I don’t like to paint them all the same, like other people do. People forget that each one is an individual and has individual personalities and abilities.”

“Psss—Of course. Those silly other people. Got any more sausage downstairs?”

Mitchell explained everything—Warhammer's race and religion, the history of his kind, the 2 major epochs of his world, the ensuing struggle for domination and glory. I endured a step-by-step description of Warhammer’s more notable battle talents, acted out, of course, by Mitchell. I even flipped through a 730-page catalogue dedicated entirely to Warhammer figurines. Not even my ninja powers could get be out of there. I was going to lose my mind.

A scene from a reportedly fierce Warhammer battle.


Downs - Copyright © 2005