by Sarah Daltry
“I would argue, but right now, we’ll take all the help we can get,” Ally admits.
“You need to balance your offensive players with your defensive players, like you’ve been doing, but try to piggyback each other,” Balin continues. “You’ve got a paladin, soldier, druid, scholar, bard, and Halfling. Which is, admittedly, the shittiest gaming party ever created, but that goat is nearly at fifty percent, so let’s get him to dead.”
“Katie is going to have to go on the offensive,” George says. “She’s the only one other than Seynar and Ally who can actually attack or do damage.”
“I can throw quills like you read about,” Clovis says.
“So not at all?” Lanyon asks.
“So not at all,” Clovis admits.
“All right. Lanyon and Seynar, since you are both somewhat useless, you’re a team,” Balin directs. “Seynar, keep shooting, and Lanyon, try not to die.”
“Excellent,” Lanyon says. And then he’s melted by some kind of goat napalm.
“This plan is exceptional,” George says.
Balin sighs. “Okay, well, Seynar, you’re on your own. Which is mostly the same as playing with a Halfling anyway.”
“That hurts, man,” Lanyon says, but he is quickly distracted by Heather. Chad, on the other hand, has forgotten all about Anna, who is now half naked and back to throwing birds at pigs.
“Listen, Hymen Shatterer,” Ally says. “You’re on my team. Your job is to continue to craft potions to save my ass while I impale this bitch repeatedly. And, no, before you even ask, you may not impale my ass with anything.”
“Aw,” Clovis says, but he’s mostly quiet. It’s probably the first time an actual girl has spoken to him. I feel like Ally’s hymen, if still intact, is safe.
George turns to me. “So, I guess that leaves you and me,” he says.
I lean in really fast while Apocmandur boosts its shields and I kiss him. “Once more into the breach.”
George
“Shakespeare will make you our bitch, you unwieldy goat.” My battle cry lacks a certain balance, but I surge onward regardless. Ally and her paladin attack are effective and Apocmandur’s health bar slides downward; however, Clovis can’t keep up with the potions fast enough.
“Heal me you, eternal virgin,” Ally yells.
“I can’t. He hits too hard,” Clovis responds. Ally’s paladin is eviscerated with much fanfare. “Sorry. Well, it isn’t the first time a girl has finished before me. Booyah.”
“Finished what?” Ally asks. “Calling the cops? Blowing her rape whistle?”
“Nay,” Clovis responds. “The scholar may die, but he shall go down a hero. Horatio’s Embrace!” he shouts. It must be the name of the spell because he pronounces it wrong. Still, the Hymen Shatterer leaps at Apocmandur and explodes. The force of his sacrifice tears an inch-sized gash in the boss’s health bar.
“Well struck, Hymen Shatterer. The bard shall sing songs of you,” Seynar says.
“Yeah, but they will mostly be about how he’s a douche,” I reply.
“No respect, even for my sacrifice,” Clovis whines.
“Keep it together. It’s starting to look like Seven Samurai around here,” Katie says.
“It’s going to look like Reservoir Dogs if we don’t take care of this dude soon. My bardliness is low on everything.”
“Hey,” Lanyon says. “Anybody want a Snickers?”
“In all of our years as friends and with all of the goddamn Snickers you eat, I think this is the first time you’ve offered to share,” I tell him.
“What can I say? The love of a good woman has made me a better man.”
“You’ve known her for, like, one day,” Anna points out.
“Get back on my girlfriend’s brother and leave me alone,” Lanyon says.
“Girlfriend?” Heather asks.
“Of course. Listen, baby,” Lanyon yanks her toward him in an Ash Williams-like embrace. “I’ll blow on your DS anytime, honeybunch.”
Heather mock swoons. “Oh, Lanyon. You know how to work a dialogue wheel.”
They start going at it. It’s pretty gross, since he was just eating a Snickers.
Katie smacks me on the head. “Quit being a perv and focus. This thing is almost dead.”
“The soldier shall see us to victory,” Seynar shouts as he unleashes twin plasma blasts at the monster. “I have an idea. Remember when I tried to detonate my key that time and, sure, it killed us all, but it did a lot of damage?”
“Yes, but we don’t have the keys anymore. They’re in the door, remember?” Katie reminds him.
“Right, but what I mean to say is, we were starting to hurt the dude, because it couldn’t hit George while he was on its back.” He slips under a burst of goat spittle.
“But then we were able to respawn. Here, we can’t,” I say.
“True. But it might be nice to have someone it can’t hit,” Katie adds.
“Possibly, but if I can’t hit it, what good does it do us?” I ask.
“You can’t hit it anyway,” Seynar reminds me.
“Fine, but I can’t buff shit while riding a goat.”
“Okay. Keep thinking.” Seynar says.
“Keep shooting,” advises the dwarf. “It will kill you. Kill it first.”
“Bah. Dwarves and their overly simplified plans,” says Lanyon.
“Shut it, Pippin,” Balin says.
“Shave your beard, Gimli.” So speaketh the Halfling.
“I’m Balin, you dink.”
“Fine. Go die in a dank ass cave while I rid the universe of The One Ring and save us all.”
“You’re still a dink.”
“Why do you guys still have your mics on? You aren’t even playing,” Ally asks.
“Why do you?” says Trevor.
“And so the circle continues. Kill the monster,” Seynar shouts.
Apocmandur has a different idea, though. As Seynar surges forward and unleashes his arsenal, the goat lifts onto its back legs. “Hellfire Lobotomy” scrolls across the screen again.
“Balls in a blender. It’s the area attack. Run away! Run away!” I shout.
“Play the goddamn sheet music again,” Seynar screams as his soldier is incinerated in a swarming cyclone of crimson fury.
I click on it. It now reads, “Boom Shakalaka.” The animation spins again, this time canceling out the area attack. In a moment, the virtuoso lute solo concludes. Standing amid the chaos are me, Katie, a staggered Apocmandur, and a gleaming shotgun, floating just in front of me.
“Good timing,” says Katie.
My character reaches out and grabs the shotgun. The controller hums. I check the weapon.
“How are the stats on that thing?” Lanyon asks.
“Off the fucking charts.” I aim the beast of a shotgun at Apocmandur. “Let me introduce you. This is my boomstick.”
Katie
The shotgun is impressive, but Apocmandur readies another attack. It’s now or never. I stop healing and, as George tries to stay alive, I ready the only big offensive spell I can use. It’s a wind spell, since there are no other natural elements here, and wind spells are usually shit, but I’m hoping it can be enough to make up the difference. The health bar is dropping fast, but George’s health is also dangerously low.
My spell hits the goat and he falls to his knees. Well, whatever you call a goat’s knees. He falls to those. George continues shooting and I take out my bow and arrow and unleash. Apocmandur is almost dead, but then he rises back up, opens his goat mouth, and the words, “Breath of the Dying,” flash across the battleground.
“That’s bad, I bet,” George says as he reloads.
“Hey, Seynar. They named a spell after you,” Lanyon says.
“I almost hope we don’t win. I don’t want to go to Montreal with you fuckers anyway,” replies Seynar.
There’s no time to ready anything big, so George and I just keep shooting. Apocmandur releases his breath and George evaporates. As the
breath makes its way to me, I pull back on the bow, let go of the arrow, and in perhaps the greatest moment in my gaming history, get a critical hit and the goat falls. The breath hits me, but the animation of Apocmandur’s death plays before I am fully pixelated into nothingness.
“Holy fuck,” Chad yells. “We just won ten thousand fucking dollars!”
George grabs me and kisses me. This is the kiss I’ve been waiting for. It’s the kiss I didn’t expect to come anymore, since I thought he’d lost interest. Suddenly, Apocmandur, the rest of our gaming party, Montreal, and well, everything is lost to his lips on mine and he lowers me to his bedroom floor. I toss my headset to the side. His hand slides down to the hem of my shirt and he breaks the kiss to smile down at me.
“Well, hello,” he says.
I grab his head and bring him back to me, feeling him getting excited, and suddenly wishing this game only had two person co-op. Lanyon coughs, but we ignore it, until he coughs louder and we hear Trevor yell over the mic, which is now a couple feet away.
“Oh, no. That be straight up whacked. These bitches ain’t fo realz.”
“Sadly,” I hear Chad say, “I think these bitches are fo realz, as you so eloquently put it.”
George and I sit up and look at the screen. There, at the end of the animation, under a giant “Congratulations” along with all of our names – with George and mine glowing in gold – is a sentence that will live in infamy forever.
“Does that say-” George starts.
“Yup,” Ally confirms. “‘Congratulations. You are the 739th team to defeat Apocmandur. The developers at VisionBlox Canada thank you for your service.’”
“Um, Seynar,” I ask. “How did you leave out this little tidbit? In all of your research, you never thought to mention that the prize had been won long ago?”
“The game’s been out like two weeks,” Seynar says. “How the hell was I supposed to know?”
“This game fucking sucks,” says Lanyon and he takes a bite of Snickers.
“What do we do now?” Balin asks.
“Denny’s?” suggests Ally.
I look around the room. Everyone nods, but the nods are slow. They’re not the nods of the unwilling; they’re the nods of the exhausted. We’ve been up all night. Maybe a nap is in the cards.
“Denny’s,” I confirm. “But let’s sleep first. We’ll meet you guys at five. That’s like,” I look at my watch, “eleven hours from now.”
Everyone agrees and we turn off the system. George forces Anna and Chad onto the floor with Heather and Lanyon and helps me stand up. My ass is asleep from sitting and playing for so long. We climb into his bed and he kisses me, softer this time, but he’s still excited. I’m tired, but my interest is peaked. I lean into his shoulder and run my hand across his chest. I don’t want to have sex while there are another four people in the room, but I also want him to know that I’m not opposed to it ever happening. He kisses my forehead and we lie in his bed, our hands clasped, just happy to be close to each other.
In the hallway, a door slams and loud footsteps echo down the hall. A few minutes later, there is the sound of a flushing toilet.
“Oh, shit,” says George. “I gotta go buy bread.”
George
“The world holds many challenges for the brave of heart. They run the gamut from defeating nigh-unkillable goat monsters to passing mathematical statistics to one of the more arduous and soul testing challenges – getting up at the bristling burst of dawn to sojourn, nay, to quest to fulfill the role of the prodigal son.”
“Lanyon,” I tell him, “we’re just going to buy bread.”
“Yes,” he nods from the backseat of Crimson Lightning, “but we go into the very belly of the beast to procure said wheaty substance.”
“Walmart?” Katie asks.
“Aye,” Lanyon adds with a hint of pirate voice and deep tragedy, “Walmart.”
“I’ve never been to Walmart this early in the morning,” Heather says from beside Lanyon. We left Chad and Anna back at my house. They could very well have gone somewhere else, since Chad has a car, but they did not. I’m a little wary of what we’ll find upon returning. “In fact,” Heather continues, “I don’t think I’ve ever been anywhere this early in the morning.”
We pull into the parking lot. “Prepare to say goodbye to your innocence, baby cakes,” Lanyon says.
I skid to a stop in the snow-encrusted space and glance up at the repugnant façade. “I have never seen a more wretched hive of scum and villainy.”
“And low prices,” Katie adds.
“Yes. And low prices.” I agree.
“The four adventurers leave the comfort of Crimson Lightning and face down their fears, the very fears that lace the inner caverns of their souls. Heroes all, they chew on the slimy cheeseburger of courage and step into the fluorescent lighting of retail hell.”
“Lanyon, can you stop narrating everything, please?” Katie asks.
“I think it’s cute.” Heather pats Lanyon’s shoulder.
“Pretty much everything about me is cute really,” he adds.
“Remember when I accidently saw your ass crack at Tommy’s pool? That wasn’t so cute,” I point out.
“Opinions are like my ass crack. Controversial but engaging.” He leads us through the automatic doors.
“This place is huge.” Katie shakes her head. “Where the hell do they keep the bread?”
“Aisle 42.” Once more, Lanyon leads the charge.
We cut through the labyrinthine aisles, dodging the rare but terrifying customers who stalk the depths. I look around at the group of us. I have to admit that, for the most part, we all look like shit as well. Katie is still cute, though, despite her disheveled hair and wrinkled clothes. I have a sudden urge to get this damn bread fast and then get back to my bed so she can join me in it.
“Why are you staring at me?” she asks.
Balls. Behind her is a stuffed lobster. “It’s not you. I’m staring at that lobster.”
She turns and I continue on.
“Within moments of escaping the dragon with the crooked legs, the mighty warriors discover the object of their hunt. There, upon the glistening shelves of what could quite possibly be plywood, are rows and rows of the most sacred of all sandwichian holders. The Bread.”
“Seriously, the narrating is a real problem,” Katie says.
“Why?” Lanyon wonders.
“It lacks a certain gusto. We just killed the boss of all bosses and you’re talking about buying bread.”
“The adventure is in your heart, not always in the action,” I tell her. She turns, her eyes flashing like sizzling embers in the store lighting, and kisses me.
“Due in no small part to the exquisite ecstasy of finding the bread, the second prettiest girl in the group and the hideous half man engage in pre-coital activities.”
“I like the stealthy compliment,” Heather says and kisses Lanyon.
We’re all going at it a bit too frisky for a bread aisle when I’m tapped on the shoulder. I look up and see some decrepit skull face staring back at me. Its hair runs off the sides of its black eyes like curling spider legs.
“You guys got a light?” asks the ghoul.
“I don’t think you’re supposed to smoke in here,” I say.
It looks up, a bit surprised to see a roof. “Right you are. Good day to you now.”
“The succubus’ riddle solved, it wanders off into the wastes to leave the four horny warriors to their sexy time.”
“How does that not ruin the mood for you?” Katie asks Heather.
She shrugs. “Don’t know, don’t care. Now, let’s buy this fucking bread so George’s crazy dad can make more sandwiches.”
“You are wise beyond your years,” Lanyon says to Heather.
“And you, sir,” I tell him, “are a lecherous hen molester.”
“You are as useless as a condom machine at the Vatican,” Lanyon responds.
“Good one,” Katie admit
s.
“Bah. He stole it from a TV show. He’s no match for me. In a battle of wits, he is unarmed and I am the king.”
“King, huh? I didn’t vote for you,” Lanyon says.
“I became king when the Lady of the Lake gave unto me the sword Excalibur and made me King of all Britons.”
“Listen, strange women lyin’ in ponds, distributin’ swords, is no basis for a system of government. Supreme executive power derives from a mandate from the masses, not from some farcical aquatic ceremony.”
“What the hell is happening?” Heather asks.
“Ignore it. It will go away.” Katie grabs a loaf of bread and heads toward the checkout.
I grab a second loaf. “There’s strength in numbers,” I tell them. “Also, if we want toast, I don’t want to have to come back here.”
Katie
Bread bought and stored securely in George’s fridge and breadbox, we make our way back upstairs. Fortunately, the call of sleep was more powerful than the call of nookie and Chad and Anna, although in a terrific state of undress, are sleeping soundly on the floor when we get back. We quietly step around them, Heather and Lanyon making their way to another corner of the floor and George and I climbing into his bed.
Sleep is a powerful mistress and, within seconds of snuggling up next to George, I’m out. I wake what seems like only minutes later, but based on the darkening sky, is almost a full day.
“What time is it?” I mumble to George, Lanyon, and Chad, who are now on the floor playing Call of Duty.
“Four-thirty,” Chad says.
“Shit. Don’t we have to be at Denny’s in like half an hour?” I ask.
“Yeah, Anna took my car and she and Heather went home to change. No one wanted to wake you,” Chad explains.
“Can I take a shower here?”
George nods and rummages through his dresser to find a shirt for me. It’s a worn t-shirt with Pac-Man on it. There’s no witty comment – just Pac-Man. I take it and he leads me to the bathroom, giving me a quick tour of towels and toiletries. Once he’s done, he stands there awkwardly in the doorway for a minute.
