“Hey there, rock fans, this is Karen with Fog City Rock FM,” a lady’s voice crackled over the radio, “We’re going to be kicking off our heavy metal power hour in a moment, but first I have a couple of news bulletins for you folks. First up, we all know it’s the middle of flu season, but the delay on vaccines has finally been worked out. So go ahead and make your appointment today, we don’t want to see a whole lot of sick people shambling around town. In the meantime, just be sure to wash your hands, don’t share your drinks, just follow all that super basic advice you learned back in kindergarten and you should be fine.”
Nobody was listening to the radio, however. Four friends were sitting in the living room getting ready to play a role playing game. While everyone else was looking over their character sheets, game master Steve was looking over his notes behind his gaming screen. Once again he didn’t have anything prepared, save for the loosest outline of the plot: kill the bad guys, get the treasure, and save the day.
Not being prepared stressed Steve out. He didn’t know why it was always like this whenever they played lately. It wasn’t long ago that he would spend hours poring over rulebooks and searching for exciting encounters on the internet. Now he was faced with a crippling writer’s block, and was forced to play by the seat of his pants. His closest friends were here to play with him today, and they all regarded him as the best game master, but they didn’t know he was just making it up as he went. Steve was anxious that they’d find out he was just making everything up, and that they wouldn’t want to play with him anymore after that. He wasn’t sure if he could run another game.
“Dude, what’s the hold up?” Grace interrupted Steve’s train of thought from the sofa, “We’re all ready to go here.”
Steve looked at the blank pages in his binder, hidden behind his game master’s screen. “Looks like I’m missing one of my stat blocks,” he declared, not technically lying since he was missing all of them, “It’s going to be a few minutes while I dig it up.”
Groaning, Grace impatiently flopped back on the couch. She was a real brat sometimes, but they all liked her enough to include her into the game. Grace was a clever girl, always coming up with a solution to the problems in their game by thinking outside the box. She was a tall, skinny girl with a boyish figure that most guys teased her about. Her auburn hair was cropped close to her scalp, a punk hairstyle that was anachronistic to her thick rimmed hipster glasses.
“Lay off him, Gray,” Aaron jumped to Steve’s defense, “Have you seen how thick the campaign binder is? It’s jam packed with monsters and traps, it’s no wonder he’s always misplacing stat blocks.”
Aaron was the sort of person who was observant enough to notice the giant binder Steve packed from game to game, but not keen enough to discover it was full of mostly blank pages. He was new to their gaming group, but had quickly distinguished himself by surviving every horrible ordeal that had befallen their party. Like Grace, Aaron was tall and skinny, and he too possessed a boyish figure. His long, black hair fell to his shoulders. Piercings covered his face, with rings and studs in his eyebrows, nose, and lower lip. His prize piercings, however, were his stretched ear lobes, which he one day hoped to be able to hold his beer with.
Sitting in a comfy chair nearby, Cliff laughed at the situation. He was the most mellow person in the group and was completely unflappable. He was always flashing a grin of pearly white teeth that were in stark contrast to his black skin. A few short years ago, when Cliff was still in high school, he had an afro that was the talk of the town. The funny man had since shaved his head, but he had already secured his reputation of being a groovy dude. He was a big man, one could even say an intimidating man, but his friends knew that he had never even hurt a spider.
Steve started to scratch away at his paper. He had to come up with something pretty quick before his friends got too impatient with him. Hunching low behind the screen, he tried to avoid their scrutiny. He needed some bad guys for the players to fight, but struggled to come up with something. The party was originally going to be assaulting a wizard who was ensconced in his tower, guarded by an army of zombies. Steve was having second thoughts about the army of zombies though, they just seemed too cliché to him. Not that the wizard in the tower didn’t too, but the walking dead were quickly becoming overdone.
What Steve really needed was a distraction. Surreptitiously reaching for his phone, he started to type a message for Cliff. “Dude,” the message read, “Need more time. Help.”
Cliff was Steve’s best friend, and the only one privy to struggle he was having running their games lately. He knew he could count on Cliff’s discretion. What he didn’t count on was Cliff’s ringer being cranked to the max on his phone. He practically jumped when the chime went off.
All eyes were on Cliff as he dug the phone out of his pocket. “Who’s that,” Grace butted in, “You got a hot date or something?”
“Joke of the day,” Cliff explained, covering Steve’s tracks.
“Oh no,” Aaron groaned, “I hate those things.”
Grace couldn’t help herself though and asked, “What’s it say?”
“‘What do messy zombies get on their clothes?’” he pretended to read from his phone, “‘Staaaaaiiiiiiiiiinnnssss!’”
Cliff chuckled at his own joke but Grace and Aaron weren’t having any of it. “Whoever writes those puns should just drop dead,” Aaron complained as he buried his face in his hands.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Steve knew he could keep his secret a little longer. He wasn’t sure how yet, but Cliff was going to bail him out. In the meantime, he struggled to come up with a few ideas that were less typical than an evil necromancer in a tower. A couple of minutes passed while he pretended to write out the missing stat block, but his mind was utterly blank. He knew that Cliff had to bail him out soon.
“So, what are you guys going to do with our treasure?” Cliff asked, hoping to distract the other players with conversation.
“My bard’s going to get a new lute,” Aaron excitedly explained, eager for the opportunity to talk about his character, “I’m going to have that dwarf we met make him a Flying V, just like Hendrix.”
“Nice,” Cliff gave Aaron a genuine smile, “That’s pretty awesome. How about you, Gray? What are you going to spend your gold on?”
“I’m going to sell my gold for more gold,” she answered impatiently, “When are we going to get started?”
“Soon,” Steve muttered. There was no chance he’d be ready soon.
Sensing his friend’s continuing discomfort, Cliff tried another approach. “You got any chips?”
Laying his pen down, Steve regarded Cliff. It wasn’t until he winked at him that Steve realised that this was the distraction. “Naw, sorry man,” he apologised, “But you know what? I could really go for some chips too.”
“Chips do sound really good right about now,” Aaron chimed in.
All eyes in the room turned to Grace. “What are you guys looking at?” she asked petulantly.
“Wouldn’t you like some chips?” Cliff asked.
“Not really,” she answered.
“I’d like some chips,” Cliff replied.
“Me too,” Steve jumped on board.
“Ditto on the chip thing,” Aaron weighed in.
Grace glowered at each and every one of her friends in turn. Going for chips would mean waiting even longer for the game, but that wasn’t the only thing she was unhappy about. She was the only one of the gang to have a car, and had driven to the game that day. It seemed to her like every time they got together to play the game, they’d use her to go somewhere first. She was getting to be just about sick of it.
“Okay,” she relented, “But we’re going to play the second we get back, right?”
“Absolutely,” Steve genuinely promised. If he didn’t have a better idea by the time they were getting chips, he’d just have to make it up as they went. It wouldn’t feel right to him, but he’d be sure to throw something in to distract everybody from the cheesy plot.
“Woohoo!” Aaron exulted, “Chips!”
Grace rolled her eyes as they all got up to grab their things, “Where are we getting chips from, anyway?”
“The DepartMart has them on sale,” Steve answered.
“You’re kidding me,” she replied, “That’s like halfway across town!”
“It’s only a ten minute drive,” Cliff came to the rescue again, “You’ve gotta learn to lighten up.”
“Whatever,” Grace gave in, rolling her eyes once more.
“You know, if you keep rolling your eyes like that, they’re going to get stuck that way,” Cliff teased Grace.
Steve lived in a pretty small apartment, which opened directly into the living room, so they didn’t have far to go to get their shoes and coats. Being the informal sort of people that they were, they all donned comfortable running shoes. It was a chilly November evening, so Steve chose to wear his brown bomber jacket. Cliff and Aaron had also arrived in cheap leather jackets, but Grace had brought her olive drab peacoat.
As Steve reached for the door, he heard his dog come running. Scruffy always knew when Steve was leaving the house. The golden labrador retriever jumped on his master with an excited bark.
“Settle down, buddy,” Steve implored, but the dog was losing his mind. Scruffy wouldn’t stop barking and jumping.
“I think he wants to come with us,” Cliff reasoned.
“No kidding,” Grace replied to the question not yet asked, “Too bad there’s no dogs allowed in my car.”
“I didn’t realise it was your parents’ car,” said Steve.
“It’s not. I just don’t want fur all over the seats.” explained Grace.
“You’re not going to let my dog come with us?” Steve asked.
“Nope,” Grace adamantly refused.
“Scruffy, pout!” Steve commanded his dog as he pointed at Grace.
Obediently, Scruffy stopped jumping and barking. He immediately sat and regarded Grace with the most pitiful expression that only a labrador could muster. Grace chewed her lip as she resisted the pooch’s charms. Scruffy took that opportunity to let loose a wretched and miserable whimper.
“Okay,” with an exasperated sigh Grace relented, “Your stupid dog can come.”
“That’s a really great trick,” Aaron paid Scruffy a compliment.
“No fooling. High five, Scruffy!” Steve held his hand up over Scruffy’s head. The dog headbutted him in return, impatient to leave. “We’re still working that one out,” Steve explained.
With Scruffy now in tow on his leash, the gang left the apartment. “You guys go on ahead, this lock keeps sticking,” Steve shooed his friends away while he locked up.
“Shotgun!” Aaron declared as he ran down the stairs to reserve the front seat of Grace’s car. She only rolled her eyes again as she followed him down.
“Thanks for covering for me,” Steve thanked Cliff after he was sure his friends were out of earshot.
“Don’t sweat it,” Cliff clapped Steve on the back with a boisterous laugh, “Besides, chips are on you now.”
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