A thin strand of string cheese dangles from my mouth. "Think of it this way. If you get him this gift, it will let him play the game as if he has sat there for about 200 hours. It takes the boring part out and lets him jump right into the fray. Normally I'd say earn it yourself, but he's busy with school and loves to play. I think it's a great thing for him."

Picking a supplier should be easy enough, though dear old Mom makes it complicated. With an open notebook and pen, she scrolls down the eBay listings taking down names and convincing herself every digital gold dealer is cracking a whip in a sweatshop crammed with oppressed Easterners. After three hours and several "Gold Farming" searches on Google, guild wars gold a young man listing himself as a college student trying to help pay for groceries wins her trust. She places her faith in his good-natured made-in-America demeanor and "Turquoise Star" seller rating. Dad comes into the computer room, double checks that the right card is charged, gazes out the window at the rusting basketball hoop, sips his can of Coca-Cola and tells me he wants me to go in place of Bill for the exchange.

Mom agrees. She thinks the deal may go sour and offers to drive the get-away dragon. Dad advises I carry a cleverly concealed magic wand. The deal goes down while Bill is still in school.