"Roll the damn dice, Casey."
Raphel: his "cheerful" demeanor destroying yet another friendly game night with Casey Jones. Maybe he should start hiding the beer, Casey mental-checked as he did what his friend demanded.
"You get on my nerves, Raph. Makes me wonder why I still hang out with you when you're like this."
Opening another beer can and slugging it down his throat, Raphael glared at Casey through the alcoholic mist and muted lighting. A well-practiced belch escaped his chapped lips, and there was Casey's glorious answer.
Casey shook his head. "Beautiful and you're cheating on this game."
"You're turning into a wimp, you know. You're good for April but she's got you suckered. Be a man and show me real competition with this shitty game of yours."
"Arguing with the missus again?" The forbidden road had to be traveled, Casey reckoned.
"You must be confusing the two of us, Case. I ain't go no woman and no woman ain't got me. Your turn. And stop losing like a sissy."
Becoming frustrated, Casey lucked out again, both on the game and being a good friend. "I'm just trying to help, Raph. We're growing older and my job sucks and I suck at sex lately and April's mad all the time and --"
"If it itches, scratch it! Like your balls, Case. Same philosophy."
The dice rolled during the silence, intermittent hums from the kitchen fridge, light flickering, Raph's small belches, the tv's volume low but audible, and a tiny chuckle erupting from Casey's chest. The domino effect of laughter caught on and the two fellows enjoyed the game again.