I'm not sure if I can put this one up here. The dialogue was borrowed from
the Dr. Demento skit, 'Dungeons and Dragons.' I had to right this for the
Trio, though, 'cause it was freaking perfect. I am happy with it, but I
still can't decide if its plagiarism enough to not put up here.
I put in my own actions!
Which probably isn't enough. So, if someone'll tell me if this is okay to post or not, I'll take it off or leave it accordingly.
Thanks!
"Galstaf: you have entered the door to the North. You are now by yourself, standing in a dark room. The pungent stench of mildew emanates from the wet dungeon walls..." Warren read from the story sheet. He shuffled the papers to continue, but...
"Where are the Cheetos?"
*You'd think it was Johnathan's first time in the Lair.*
With a sigh, Warren called behind him, "They're right next to you."
Andrew was practically jumping from his seat. "I cast a spell!"
Leaning back around the shelf proudly displaying select figurines of the Trio's Star Trek collection, Johnathan hollered, too loud, "Where's the Mt. Dew?"
"In the fridge! Duh!"
*Where would you put the Mt. Dew, huh, you stupid little twit?*
The blonde across the table from Warren was still bouncing, more energetically, trying to get someone's attention. "I wanna cast a spell!" he whined, but was cut off again by the middle of their Trio.
"Can I have a Mt. Dew?"
*Fuck!*
Warren gripped his temples tight, trying desperately to squeeze the stupidity out. "Yes! You can have a Mt. Dew - just go get it!"
Andrew reached over and tapped Warren's arm.
Warren looked up, glaring unintentionally at the younger boy.
He asked timidly, trying to get Warren's heated glare off him: "I can cast any of these, right? O-on the list?" He tapped on the list of spells lying on the table under Warren's elbow.
Warren moved his arms and sat back straight. "Yes," he nodded. "Any of the first level ones."
Andrew nodded and looked over the roster.
"I'm gonna get a soda! Anyone want one?" Without waiting for an answer, Johnathan continued from inside the refrigerator, "Hey, Warren - I'm not in the room, right?"
"What room?"
Andrew out reached for Warren's hand before he clenched it into a fist. "I wanna cast Magic Missile!" He grinned wide, but was once again ignored.
"The room he's casting all these spells from!" Johnathan's voice was eaten by the depths of the fridge.
"He hasn't cast anything yet!" Warren yelled, tightening his grip on Andrew's hand.
The blonde yelped as the bones in his fingers rearranged to fit into Warren's tight hold. Working his fingers into a more comfortable position, Andrew whined, "I am though, if you'd listen! I'm casting Magic Missile."
*Surrounded by morons! This is the absolute last time I DM, ever!*
"Why are you casting Magic Missile? There's nothing to attack here."
"I-I'm attacking the darkness!"
With that spur-of-the-moment answer, everyone cracked up. Warren, funky mood finally lifting a little, leaned his head down on the table, eyes watering and gut sore from the laughter, and gripped the other boy's hand tightly between both of his. He patted the top of Andrew's pale hand. "Fine. Fine," he breathed deep, regaining some composure. "You attack the darkness. There's an elf in front of you."
"Whoa!"
"That's me, right?"
Warren and Andrew leapt at the voice. Xander had been so quiet for the game he seemed to not be there.
*Aww...*
They quickly pulled their hands back from each other, tucking them back into their own bodies, hoping their minor groping had gone unnoticed.
Warren cleared his throat and brought the group's attention back to the story at hand. "He's wearing ... a ... " he stalled as he shuffled through his stack of papers to find Xander's stats. " ... A brown tunic, and he has gray hair and blue eyes."
"No I don't - I have gray eyes!"
Warren felt his temples clamp up again. "Lemme see that sheet." He motioned for Xander's character sheet, giving it a quick once-over. Gray hair, blue eyes, complete with a little doodle that would make any second-grader's parent proud.
Xander snatched the sheet back as Warren stifled a snigger. "Well, it says I have blue eyes, but I decided I wanted gray eyes."
"Whatever." Warren sat in silence for a moment, waiting for one of the others to take the initiative. Impatient, he waved them on, "You guys can talk to each other now if you want."
Andrew said awkwardly, "Hello."
"Hello," Xander stammered.
*Gheeze, it's like neither'd ever had a conversation before.*
"I am Galstaf, Sorcerer of Light!" the blonde squeaked.
Xander snorted attractively through his nose. "Then how come you had to cast Magic Missile?"
Warren laughed along with Xander, Johnathan joining in from the kitchen. Andrew huffed, crossing his arms stubbornly as he was once again the butt of the joke. He huffed sarcastically, trying to bring the teasing to a halt.
"You ... you ... you guys are being attacked." Warren managed after regaining some semblance of composure.
Johnathan peered around the doorjamb. "Do I see that happening?"
*Not with your empty head inside the fridge.*
"No! You're outside, by the tavern!"
"Cool - I get drunk!" Johnathan let out a loud 'Whoop.'
Warren rolled his eyes and continued. "There are seven ogres surrounding you."
At this, Xander pounded his fist angrily on the table. "How can they surround us? I had Morton Keiton's magical watchdog cast."
"No," Warren shook his head, "You didn't."
"I'm getting drunk! Are there any girls there?" The familiar sound of a soda can's pop lid sounded through the stressed atmosphere of the Lair.
Xander shuffled franticly through the papers on the table, trying to find proof of his previous move. "I totally did! You asked me if I wanted any equipment before this adventure, and I said no, but I need material components for all my spells, so I cast Morton Keiton's faithful watchdog!"
*That made absolutely no sense.*
Warren felt his headache coming back to pound behind his eyeballs. Wearily, he said, "But you never actually cast it."
Johnathan hollered, "Roll the dice to see if I'm getting drunk!"
Warren heaved what had to have been his ten thousandth sigh of the night. He cupped his hands around the dice in the middle of the table. He let them go so they clattered against the table loudly. They scattered, one rolling off the table. Without looking down at the dice, he called to the back room, "Yah - you are."
"Are there any girls there?"
*None that'll stoop so low as to fuck you.*
"Yah," he said instead, though his anger was apparent in his voice. He folded his arms on the table and rested his head in them.
"I did though - I completely said when you asked me..."
*What? Oh - Xander. Why's Andrew insist on bringing him, again?*
Voice muffled as he spoke to the table under him, Warren growled, "No! You didn't. You didn't actually say that you were casting the spell, so now there are ogres, okay!"
*Face it, man. You have an ogre problem. Just like I have a moron problem right now.*
"Ogres!" Johnathan piped in, as if he was on cue to grate on Warren's last remaining nerve. "Man, I got an ogre slaying knife. It's got a +9 against ogres!"
"You're not there! You're getting drunk!"
*And after this, I'm gonna be the one getting drunk. Really, really drunk! .
Maybe I'll bring Andrew .*
Johnathan resigned to his not-ogre slaying future, but under one seemingly impossible condition: "Okay, but if there are any girls there, I wanna do them!"
At that, Warren leapt from his chair, tossed all the papers from the table with one sweep of his arm, and stormed across the room. He reached in the fridge and took out a can of Mt. Dew.
He hurled the can at Johnathan, hitting his thigh hard.
Johnathan yelped.
Warren turned sharp on his heels and stomped up the stairs to the main floor of the house.
The other boys were left, confused, in the Lair; Johnathan nursing his new bruise, Andrew lonely and disappointed, and Xander wondering why the hell he had come over to play Dungeons and Dragons in the first place.
I put in my own actions!
Which probably isn't enough. So, if someone'll tell me if this is okay to post or not, I'll take it off or leave it accordingly.
Thanks!
"Galstaf: you have entered the door to the North. You are now by yourself, standing in a dark room. The pungent stench of mildew emanates from the wet dungeon walls..." Warren read from the story sheet. He shuffled the papers to continue, but...
"Where are the Cheetos?"
*You'd think it was Johnathan's first time in the Lair.*
With a sigh, Warren called behind him, "They're right next to you."
Andrew was practically jumping from his seat. "I cast a spell!"
Leaning back around the shelf proudly displaying select figurines of the Trio's Star Trek collection, Johnathan hollered, too loud, "Where's the Mt. Dew?"
"In the fridge! Duh!"
*Where would you put the Mt. Dew, huh, you stupid little twit?*
The blonde across the table from Warren was still bouncing, more energetically, trying to get someone's attention. "I wanna cast a spell!" he whined, but was cut off again by the middle of their Trio.
"Can I have a Mt. Dew?"
*Fuck!*
Warren gripped his temples tight, trying desperately to squeeze the stupidity out. "Yes! You can have a Mt. Dew - just go get it!"
Andrew reached over and tapped Warren's arm.
Warren looked up, glaring unintentionally at the younger boy.
He asked timidly, trying to get Warren's heated glare off him: "I can cast any of these, right? O-on the list?" He tapped on the list of spells lying on the table under Warren's elbow.
Warren moved his arms and sat back straight. "Yes," he nodded. "Any of the first level ones."
Andrew nodded and looked over the roster.
"I'm gonna get a soda! Anyone want one?" Without waiting for an answer, Johnathan continued from inside the refrigerator, "Hey, Warren - I'm not in the room, right?"
"What room?"
Andrew out reached for Warren's hand before he clenched it into a fist. "I wanna cast Magic Missile!" He grinned wide, but was once again ignored.
"The room he's casting all these spells from!" Johnathan's voice was eaten by the depths of the fridge.
"He hasn't cast anything yet!" Warren yelled, tightening his grip on Andrew's hand.
The blonde yelped as the bones in his fingers rearranged to fit into Warren's tight hold. Working his fingers into a more comfortable position, Andrew whined, "I am though, if you'd listen! I'm casting Magic Missile."
*Surrounded by morons! This is the absolute last time I DM, ever!*
"Why are you casting Magic Missile? There's nothing to attack here."
"I-I'm attacking the darkness!"
With that spur-of-the-moment answer, everyone cracked up. Warren, funky mood finally lifting a little, leaned his head down on the table, eyes watering and gut sore from the laughter, and gripped the other boy's hand tightly between both of his. He patted the top of Andrew's pale hand. "Fine. Fine," he breathed deep, regaining some composure. "You attack the darkness. There's an elf in front of you."
"Whoa!"
"That's me, right?"
Warren and Andrew leapt at the voice. Xander had been so quiet for the game he seemed to not be there.
*Aww...*
They quickly pulled their hands back from each other, tucking them back into their own bodies, hoping their minor groping had gone unnoticed.
Warren cleared his throat and brought the group's attention back to the story at hand. "He's wearing ... a ... " he stalled as he shuffled through his stack of papers to find Xander's stats. " ... A brown tunic, and he has gray hair and blue eyes."
"No I don't - I have gray eyes!"
Warren felt his temples clamp up again. "Lemme see that sheet." He motioned for Xander's character sheet, giving it a quick once-over. Gray hair, blue eyes, complete with a little doodle that would make any second-grader's parent proud.
Xander snatched the sheet back as Warren stifled a snigger. "Well, it says I have blue eyes, but I decided I wanted gray eyes."
"Whatever." Warren sat in silence for a moment, waiting for one of the others to take the initiative. Impatient, he waved them on, "You guys can talk to each other now if you want."
Andrew said awkwardly, "Hello."
"Hello," Xander stammered.
*Gheeze, it's like neither'd ever had a conversation before.*
"I am Galstaf, Sorcerer of Light!" the blonde squeaked.
Xander snorted attractively through his nose. "Then how come you had to cast Magic Missile?"
Warren laughed along with Xander, Johnathan joining in from the kitchen. Andrew huffed, crossing his arms stubbornly as he was once again the butt of the joke. He huffed sarcastically, trying to bring the teasing to a halt.
"You ... you ... you guys are being attacked." Warren managed after regaining some semblance of composure.
Johnathan peered around the doorjamb. "Do I see that happening?"
*Not with your empty head inside the fridge.*
"No! You're outside, by the tavern!"
"Cool - I get drunk!" Johnathan let out a loud 'Whoop.'
Warren rolled his eyes and continued. "There are seven ogres surrounding you."
At this, Xander pounded his fist angrily on the table. "How can they surround us? I had Morton Keiton's magical watchdog cast."
"No," Warren shook his head, "You didn't."
"I'm getting drunk! Are there any girls there?" The familiar sound of a soda can's pop lid sounded through the stressed atmosphere of the Lair.
Xander shuffled franticly through the papers on the table, trying to find proof of his previous move. "I totally did! You asked me if I wanted any equipment before this adventure, and I said no, but I need material components for all my spells, so I cast Morton Keiton's faithful watchdog!"
*That made absolutely no sense.*
Warren felt his headache coming back to pound behind his eyeballs. Wearily, he said, "But you never actually cast it."
Johnathan hollered, "Roll the dice to see if I'm getting drunk!"
Warren heaved what had to have been his ten thousandth sigh of the night. He cupped his hands around the dice in the middle of the table. He let them go so they clattered against the table loudly. They scattered, one rolling off the table. Without looking down at the dice, he called to the back room, "Yah - you are."
"Are there any girls there?"
*None that'll stoop so low as to fuck you.*
"Yah," he said instead, though his anger was apparent in his voice. He folded his arms on the table and rested his head in them.
"I did though - I completely said when you asked me..."
*What? Oh - Xander. Why's Andrew insist on bringing him, again?*
Voice muffled as he spoke to the table under him, Warren growled, "No! You didn't. You didn't actually say that you were casting the spell, so now there are ogres, okay!"
*Face it, man. You have an ogre problem. Just like I have a moron problem right now.*
"Ogres!" Johnathan piped in, as if he was on cue to grate on Warren's last remaining nerve. "Man, I got an ogre slaying knife. It's got a +9 against ogres!"
"You're not there! You're getting drunk!"
*And after this, I'm gonna be the one getting drunk. Really, really drunk! .
Maybe I'll bring Andrew .*
Johnathan resigned to his not-ogre slaying future, but under one seemingly impossible condition: "Okay, but if there are any girls there, I wanna do them!"
At that, Warren leapt from his chair, tossed all the papers from the table with one sweep of his arm, and stormed across the room. He reached in the fridge and took out a can of Mt. Dew.
He hurled the can at Johnathan, hitting his thigh hard.
Johnathan yelped.
Warren turned sharp on his heels and stomped up the stairs to the main floor of the house.
The other boys were left, confused, in the Lair; Johnathan nursing his new bruise, Andrew lonely and disappointed, and Xander wondering why the hell he had come over to play Dungeons and Dragons in the first place.