Obsession can be a terrible, terrible thing. For the victim, that is. For someone not possessed or scared by the madness it can be terribly hilarious. Fortunately, I am such a person. It is because of my immunity that I can relate the following tale, a tale of why some people shouldn't play Thief. Let us begin.
It was a dark and stormy night. No, really. Three lethargic adolescents lounged on mismatched pieces of furniture in the dusty confines of Dante's basement. Dante, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling, mumbled, "Y'know what, guys? This sucks like a vacuum."
His companions indicated their agreement through their muteness. Above them, shrieks and thumping footsteps radiated through the ceiling. Harsh noise comprised of loud chatter and hysterical laughter fell on their ears, but they had not the energy to plug their auditory input devices and block out the debris.
Allow me to explain. Roughly a bazillion of Dante's relations were visiting his parents' house, including his irritating-as-red-ants-in-your-underwear cousins. This annual celebration of potato salad, board games, and all night chat sessions had haunted poor Dante his entire life. So this year, the last year at the homestead, he was determined that it would be different. He had invited over his two best friends, Kenta and Saori, to suffer through the agony with him.
After all, what good are friends who won't suffer through your pain for you?
The three had promptly retreated to the basement and locked themselves in. Fifteen minutes later, our heroes had stopped their futile attempts at making interesting conversation. Boredom gnawed on their minds with the voracity of beavers at a tree-eating festival.
Kenta propped himself up on his elbows. "There must be something we can do," he said, always the optimist. He cast his eyes about the room. They were in the center of the quasi-finished basement, surrounded by end tables and miscellaneous exercise equipment. In one corner was a freezer full of ice cream sandwiches and popsicles. Another corner housed the entrance to a bathroom. A computer was set up on a desk against the wall, buried underneath papers and miscellaneous CDs. A big screen TV, beautiful but broken, collected dust by a rack of DVDs. The furnace and water heater were on the far side of the basement, away from everything but the stairs.
"No…it's hopeless," Dante said in the melodramatic voice of a soap opera star. "What a way to spend a Friday."
Saori pried herself off the couch. "We could play ping-pong."
"With three people?" Kenta pointed out.
"You don't have to play."
"It doesn't matter," Dante said with a dejected sigh. "We lost all the balls. And the paddles. And the table legs."
"How about foosball?"
"Nope."
"Air hockey?"
"Uh-uh."
"What about—"
"No."
Saori threw the closest inanimate object she could find, which happened to be a pillow, directly at Dante's head. Dante, still slightly comatose, got a good whomp in the face. "Mumph!" is an approximate translation of his muffled cry.
"Count yourself lucky, buddy. I have half a mind to kick your arse."
Dante, having been rudely parted from his stupor, countered with, "Do you French kiss your boyfriend with that mouth?"
Kenta knew better than to interfere. He didn't have a death wish. With this in mind, he got out of the way as his mature counterparts began a pillow fight of epic proportions. He browsed through the rack of DVDs, ran a mile on the treadmill, took a tour of the bathroom, and ate a popsicle (it was cherry) before his friends had worn each other out and collapsed on the berber carpet. Licking his sticky fingers, he wandered over to the computer desk.
Dante gasped for breath. "Need…oxygen…"
"That'll…teach you…" Saori panted.
"Wait…I feel a second wind coming on…"
And they were at it again. Kenta rolled his eyes. He never would have taken the dueling duo as seniors in high school if he hadn't known otherwise. He turned his attention to the desk. The papers, wrinkled with age and stained with circles of coffee, held no interest for him. He picked up a stack of CDs in thin paper envelopes. Most of them were technical, but one caught his eye. He raised his voice. "Hey Dante, what's this?"
Dante released Saori from his headlock. "What's what?"
"This CD, Thief." He held it out to him.
Dante, looking quizzically, took the CD. "Thief…doesn't ring a bell. Oh wait, we got this awhile ago. It was bundled with some other software."
"Is it fun?"
"Dunno. Never played it."
Kenta clapped his hands together. He had a giant grin on his face. "Ladies and gentlemen, I think we've found ourselves something to do!"
"Oh joy. A bundled game. Must be some quality." Saori rolled her eyes.
Dante gave her a strange smile. "You could always leave, you know."
"Are you insane? I'm not going up there with your crazy cousins around. I suppose I'll indulge your little game."
"Hallelujah, she has seen the light!" he exclaimed in an exaggerated revival-preacher voice.
"Just start it up," she said, glaring.
"Hold yo hosses, missy. It's gotta be installed first."
She crossed her arms. "But there's no way it can be as good as Jedi Knight II," she declared firmly.
The install was finished five minutes later. The three gathered chairs and crowded around the monitor. Kenta was in the middle, with Dante on his left and Saori on his right. He started the game, the move that would change their lives forever and a day.
It had begun.
Author's Notes:
Reviews, criticism, and suggestions for future chapters are always welcome. Flames will be used to toast marshmallows or destroy incriminating documents, depending on whether I'm feeling a bit famished or running from the FBI.
If these characters scare you, you ought to know that they're based on me…
Grudgingly, I give credit for the title to Sioned136. Grrrrrr that I must have others write titles for me.
^__^
