Pardon me while I ask my characters to do random things for my own amusement 🙂 As usual, I asked my alter-ego Hannah to be the moderator for these little events. This is slightly different from other drabbles in that the characters are completely OOS (Out of Story), meaning that they are fully aware of their status as story characters. Enjoy!
“Sooo… can we start yet, or what?” Matt asked after making a paper airplane out of his game rules and watching it take a disappointingly short flight across the room.
“Hannah said there were supposed to be four of us,” Lisa said as she read her own rules a third time, even though the game wasn’t all that difficult to understand.
A voice called from the hallway, “I found him,” a moment before Hannah led the somewhat disgruntled man inside and pointed sternly at the empty space on the couch.
“I just did one of these,” Zen complained. “Tell the author to leave me alone.”
Hannah grinned as she handed him the mug of spiced cider. “I will, but that’ll probably just ensure she keeps picking on you.”
Wistal stretched out sideways in the armchair. “I have a complaint.”
“Really? Shocking!” Hannah said brightly, distributing the other mugs.
“’Never have I ever’ is supposed to be a drinking game,” Wistal said.
“Yes. And two of you are underaged. And also, the author is really in the mood for cider, and she doesn’t have access to any. Deal with it.” She picked up Matt’s airplane where it had landed and launched it back at him before leaving. “Have fun.”
Once she was gone, Lisa put the rules aside and announced, “I’ll start. Never have I ever been late to class. So anyone who has needs to drink.” She took out a notebook where she had listed their names in four tidy columns, and then put a tally mark for each person who lifted their cider mug. All of them, in this case. Apparently Lisa was the only timely student in the group.
“Wait, you? Really?” Wistal asked, frowning at Zen. “I thought you were the math guy.”
“I was never late as a student,” Zen clarified. “As a professor, I have my doctorate, so I can afford to be late to class when needs arise.”
“What are you doing?” Matt asked Lisa, gesturing to the notebook.
“Just keeping score,” Lisa said. “What’s the point in playing a game if you don’t know who wins? It’s your turn, Matt.”
“Yeah, okay.” The boy thought a moment, before saying, “Never have I ever been dumped by a significant other.”
“Wow, good for you,” Lisa said, sipping her own cider, and marking down a point for herself and Zen. She looked to Wistal, who just shook her head.
“Not me. If I thought a relationship was going sour, I just ended it myself.” She glanced at Matt, who was looking particularly smug. “So, you’ve really never been dumped?” she asked.
“Nope. Never,” Matt said, just a touch too proudly.
Wistal decided to play a hunch. “Is it because you’ve never been in a relationship before?”
Matt blushed scarlet. “Hey, are we playing a game or what? It’s your turn.”
“Okay,” Wistal said. “Never have I ever not been in a relationship.”
“I really don’t think that’s how the rules work,” Lisa said, referencing the paper. “I don’t even think that’s a true statement for you, Wistal, because you’ve obviously—”
“Fine,” Matt growled, taking an angry gulp of cider and then informing Wistal, “I could have a girlfriend if I wanted one. I’m just…busy.”
“Mmhm. Swamped, I’m sure.” Wistal looked over her shoulder. “Hey, math guy. Your turn.”
Zen didn’t look up from his notebook, which—unlike Lisa’s—had very little to do with the game. “Never have I ever ridden a dinosaur.”
No one drank.
“That’s not really how the game works either,” Lisa said. “You’re supposed to pick things that you think the other people would have done.”
“It’s not outside the realm of possibility,” Zen said. “Once I did one of these little adventures and a dragon showed up at my window with balloons.” Then, just for the sake of getting past his turn faster, he amended his answer to “Never have I ever worn a Halloween costume.”
Everyone drank for that one.
“Not even when you were a kid?” Lisa asked, with a hint of pity in her voice.
“I think costumes are ridiculous,” Zen said. “In my story, only actual superheroes and villains wear costumes.”
“Oh, I see,” Lisa said, still sounding sad at the notion. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I actually really hate dressing up.” He realized the words were dangerous as soon as he uttered them, and called towards the hallway, “Which is not an invitation, Hannah.”
But in another room, Hannah and I are already making some plans for Halloween.