Author's note: It seems I've got my mojo back so enjoy this last amusing chapter before things hit the fan...
Kowalski scowled. It seemed for the first time in his life he was losing at a game of strategy. Blowhole whistled happily as he collected money from him and Kowalski was left having to evaluate his future moves and decisions.
The pair had been happily talking and it seemed for now that the problem with Doris had been forgotten. Which was a huge surprise given Doris was the center of Kowalski's universe.
As the time went by the lair grew colder. There were heating units in every room but the large rooms still usually needed something extra to warm them up. Being this far underground in a lair made of concrete and stone, things got very cold. Kowalski may not have minded but Blowhole, being a dolphin, wasn't used to cold temperatures of the arctic and usually liked to swim in more tropical waters.
On one side of the wall, below the huge TV mounted on the wall, was a fireplace. Blowhole took the liberty to light the somewhat old fashioned fire and sat back with Kowalski. The fireplace aesthetically looked like it could have been fake but real flames burned behind the frame. It was a pretty sight, but Kowalski couldn't help but feel the mess of cleaning cinders wasn't efficient. Not to mention, didn't Blowhole's life get ruined by fire? Why would he opt for real fire when he could have digital?
"Huh, see, when you spoke of your PTSD I thought of fire being the main trigger." Kowalski threw the thought out in the open.
Blowhole shrugged.
"Eh, it's more of swimming through red blood stained waters and the taste of blood in my mouth, which is why I'm a strict pesceterian. Nothing in this world will make me eat mammal meat."
Kowalski shrugged back.
"Hotdogs are good."
Blowhole paused for a moment, where he just stared at Kowalski with a face of degradation.
"I don't care."
Kowalski thought again.
"Hotdogs don't contain blood."
Blowhole suddenly slammed his flipper down onto the table, causing Kowalski to scramble slightly and knock his own Monopoly piece fall over.
"I wonder how pen-gu-ins taste," he snarled.
Kowalski blinked back his fright and soon grew an annoyed expression.
"I wish you wouldn't bang on the table everytime you get slightly annoyed."
Blowhole rose again, slowly and chuckled.
"It's funny. It's how I train others into feeling fearful when I lift a flipper. They don't realise I've trained them into it until it's too late."
Kowalski rolled his eyes. Blowhole was still Blowhole and he was just as sadistic as ever.
"Whatever, can we carry on the game?"
"Shall we heighten the stakes?" Blowhole asked.
Kowalski cocked a brow, sceptical. If Blowhole was proposing a challenge of some sort he would most likely make it appear favourable to the bird and then pull a trick that meant Kowalski would fall.
"Depends," Kowalski said crossing his flippers. "What's in it for me?"
"A little challenge. I win you give me your 2 best properties. You win, I'll give you 2 of my entire colour sets."
Kowalski thought for a moment. This wasn't in the rules of Monopoly but heck, this was Blowhole, he had never followed a rule in his life. Not even his own. But if he won the challenge, the entire game could be turned upside down and Kowalski could win.
"And what's the challenge?" Kowalski asked.
Blowhole stared for a moment with a smirk on his face before he lifted himself and settled on his segway.
"Are you an alcoholic?" He asked.
Kowalski perked a surprised brow and shook his head.
"Well, I am," Blowhole chuckled.
Kowalski sat there on the table nervous as Blowhole headed to a wooden cabinet. Only when it opened did Kowalski see it was filled with bottles and glasses. He couldn't say he wasn't shocked at this unearthing but he was more confused as to why he would want to drink now.
Blowhole retrieved several bottles of things and seemed to mainly lean on vodka and tequila. Kowalski grew nervous as the drinks piled up and Blowhole seemed to grow happier and more excited.
"You still haven't told me the challenge..." Kowalski stated.
Blowhole chuckled as he placed a glass on the table, a little too firmly, causing Kowalski a startle.
"A little drinking challenge. We each draft up a sheet of very hard questions to give the other. Perhaps 10 questions and only give each other a minute or so to answer them. The person with the most right answers wins," Blowhole said proudly of his idea.
Kowalski crossed his flippers and leaned back.
"Sounds easy enough. But what's the alcohol for?"
Blowhole chuckled again, this time more eagerly.
"For each question we get wrong, we have to take a shot."
Kowalski looked to Blowhole in surprise. He was no stranger to alcohol but he was surprised Blowhole would want to potentially ruin the game if either of them were to get drunk. After all, Blowhole would make sure Kowalski got as many questions wrong as he could, give the bird liver failure and win completely. But what the heck? Kowalski had been stressed up to his eyeballs and what better way to get rid of stress then to drink until you forget?
"Alright, I'm game."
And so the challenge commenced. Kowalski made sure to think of the hardest equations and questions he could think of, even throwing in a few curveballs which had no definitive answers. And it also seemed Blowhole had done the same. With only 1 minute and 12 seconds left on the clock, Kowalski still had an abundance of questions to answer. His brain was overloading and every second he wasted peering over at Blowhole scribbling his most likely correct answers was an another shot he would most likely have to take.
He tried his best, he truly did, though his best wasn't quite enough. Their answers were revised and Kowalski did... lets say...
"8 wrong? You got 8 wrong?" Blowhole laughed. "Will you even survive after 8 shots?"
Kowalski crumpled his sheet of paper in slight annoyance.
"I would have done better if you gave me a moment to prepare."
"But it wouldn't be challenging then, would it?"
Blowhole smirked as he poured the drinks into tiny glasses and slid one over to Kowalski. A bemused look on his face as he watched the penguin pick the glass up.
"I doubt you'll get more than 2 down but it'll sure be funny," the dolphin chuckled as he picked his own drink up.
Kowalski scoured and looked down to his shot. Blowhole had been nice enough to not give him a full shot, since he was a tiny bird in comparison to Blowhole, but he knew he was still going to be hit hard.
"Bottoms up!" Blowhole smiled as he lifted his drink and swallowed it all within a second.
Kowalski didn't trail too far behind and closed his eyes tight as he downed his shot. It tasted awful, like most alcohol does, and burned as it washed down his throat.
Blowhole was already pouring another few drinks before Kowalski had a chance to open his eyes. It seemed as though the game had been forgotten and all Blowhole was interested in was getting Kowalski drunk.
And so the evening continued as such. Blowhole insisted that Kowalski try and take the 8 shots he had lost to. Blowhole was also right when Kowalski refused to take a third shot, already feeling the buzz in his head. Blowhole took Kowalski's third shot, not wanting to waste precious alcohol and the night continued with drunk hijinks and manly banter.
Kowalski enjoyed the night, at least he hoped that he would remember he had a good night. Blowhole had allowed him to sleep on the couch for the night, since he didn't have a suitable place for a guest to stay. It was an evil lair not a hotel. Kowalski didn't care, he just wanted to sleep his drunk state of mind away and so he did, absentminded about Skipper, the team and what they must have been thinking about his disappearance.
It was just as well. If he had returned he would have been a downer anyway, on account of what happened with Doris. But he felt different here. He felt no need to put on a front in front of Blowhole to show he wasn't worried about Doris. Blowhole knew first hand what problems with Doris felt like, as he had been through way more than Kowalski probably had. And he didn't feel as though he had to act tougher or less fearful either because Kowalski didn't care to impress the dolphin or because he simply felt comfortable with him, he couldn't conclude. He just knew he was growing to tolerate and maybe even like this place.