1 Craving
"Hey, Bumps, did you miss me?"
"Lilly, I told you that you couldn't come here for—"
"Excuse me? Couldn't? I don't think that's going to work out very well, especially since I already told Dad I was spending the weekend and he thought that it would be a perfect opportunity for me to bond with my wayward brother. So don't go spouting off 'couldn't' at me, buddy."
"You're spending the weekend?"
"Do you want me to drive back tonight?"
"Preferably right now."
"I have this weird feeling that you're not thrilled to bits."
"I am thrilled to bits. Really. But I don't need you to come down here every time I have a—"
"A meltdown? Look, I'm not even worried about that. You're going to have to learn to accept death and I don't know how to fix that for you. Ooh, nice hallway. Dad really went all out with this place. I just came here to scope out all these people you've been talking about. I won't even tell anybody I'm related to you, I'll just say that I'm a friend of a friend, and I'm crashing, or whatever."
Silence.
"God. I promise that I don't care about your emotional well-being in the slightest. *Now* can I stay?"
"Fine. But it's not going to be that interesting. Just a bunch of high school kids packed into a big room with loud music and tacky balloons."
"Don't forget the cake. Besides, I *am* a high school kid. So, where do I get to crash?"
"Come on. There's probably a guest room somewhere upstairs."
"There are probably about fifty."
"Good point. I haven't done much exploring. There's already a worn place in the carpets between my room, my office, and the front door."
"Poor Lex. All the gifts of Midas, and no time to enjoy them."
"So, where's Radiohead Bryan?"
"Not here."
"Evidently."
"It didn't work out."
"Is there a story, or should I just look sympathetic?"
"I'll take door number two."
"You don't want his legs broken, or anything."
"Aw. And this isn't even *my* birthday party. But I'm fine. I already put a nasty virus on his computer, so I'm feeling okay. Thanks, though."
"Not a problem. I think this is one of the free rooms; let's see..."
Silence.
"What do you think?"
"You—"
"Do you like it?"
"Oh, my God. You did all this? You are the best brother ever."
"Well, I knew there'd be no stopping you, so I figured the best way to make sure you didn't stay long was to make you feel as welcome as possible. That usually gets you unnerved pretty quickly."
"But you—it's just like my room at home. This is so perfect. Okay, what the hell is that?"
"The poster? I thought you liked that movie."
"I've never even heard of that movie."
"'Suspect?'"
"Bumpy. It's 'The Usual Suspects.' With Kevin Spacey and Gabriel Byrne? As opposed to Cher and Dennis Quaid?"
"I told the decorator the name of the movie was something 'Suspects.' I guess they were all out of the other poster."
"You dork. Thank you so much."
"Sure. But we still have to share the bathroom, so don't take forever getting ready. The party starts in three hours."
*
"You look very nice."
"Are you kidding? I look fabulous."
"Well, you should, considering how long you took in the bathroom."
"Oh, like you had anything to do in there besides shine your head. Where's the party girl?"
"Not sure. She disappeared right after the receiving line."
"I can't believe Nasty Nell made her have a receiving line."
"I think it was the organizer's idea."
"She hired an organizer for this?"
"I did."
"Lex—"
"It was either that, or let her drive me up the wall blathering about balloons and the size of the cake. At least the organizer got paid to put up with her."
"Good idea. So your Adonis isn't here yet?"
"He's not my Adonis. And no, he isn't."
"Ooh. Somebody sounds pouty."
"Lilly—"
"I'm sure he wouldn't stand *you* up."
"As much as I appreciate your attempts to set me up with—"
"This isn't an attempt. This is me, making fun of you."
"Clark and I are just friends."
"With benefits."
"I'm going to go find Lana."
"You do that. I'll mingle and tell embarrassing stories about you."
"Do I have to lock you in the coat room again?"
"You can't lock me in the coat room."
"Yes, I can. I'm still bigger than you."
"Yeah, but there's no lock on the door."
"You checked?"
"Hell, yes. I know you."
"Hmph."
"Hey. That reminds me..."
"You want to?"
"Do you? We haven't done that since last Christmas."
"Sure. It'll be fun."
"Okay. I'll steal some alcohol, you get the cards."
"I'm the one who's of legal age."
"Oh, like that's ever been a problem for either of us. 'Hi, I'm the billionaire's offspring. Give me liquor.' 'Okay.' Not hard."
"Fine. I'll meet you there in ten minutes."
*
"Did you shuffle them?"
"Yes."
"I didn't see you shuffle them."
"That's because you were busy piling all those coats on the floor."
"It's not my fault Dad has a marble fetish. My ass is cold."
"*My* ass fell asleep about five minutes ago, and you don't see me complaining."
"You want a coat?"
Silence. "Well, not *that* one."
"It's fine. It'll be soft."
"Give me something a little more manly."
"You and this manly fixation. Leather is plenty manly."
"Not when it's attached to fur cuffs and a collar."
"Well, in its defense, I don't think it's real fur. Or real leather."
"Even worse."
"I know. An entire family of synthetic bunnies, slaughtered for this."
"Heh."
"Shuffle again."
"I already shuffled."
"I trust you about as far as I can throw you, so do it again."
"I'm not shuffling again."
"Shuffle, or I'm not giving you any bourbon."
"Fine."
"Thank you." Silence. "Crap. This is the shittiest hand in the whole history of shitty hands."
"Do you ever learn? Poker face. You have to have a poker face at all times."
"Well, it's not like we're playing—"
"It's the principle of the thing."
"Who starts?"
"I think you do."
"Doesn't the dealer start?"
"No, the person to the left of the dealer."
"Nobody's to the left of the dealer."
"You are."
"I'm sitting across from you, Bumpy."
"You keep calling me that, when you're the one with the egg-sized knob on your head."
"Which was *your* fault."
"I never made you go up that tree."
"You dared me!"
"I didn't dare you to fall off. And besides, you're responsible for your actions."
"I was seven."
"You were eight."
"I was impressionable. And I'm still not to your left."
"In a metaphysical sense, you are."
"So metaphysically, I'm starting."
"Then start. And give me the bottle."
"I should have grabbed a few glasses. After a while, we're going to be fighting over that thing."
"Are you going to start?"
"Fine, Mr. Rushy McHasty. Do you have a *queen*?"
"Go fish—shut up."
"Bwah! Or *are* you a queen?"
"No more bourbon for you."
"Like hell no more bourbon for me. I *stole* that, fair and square."
"From my bar."
"That's not the point."
"Do you have a red seven?"
"Wait. Are we playing the way where you have to put the colors together, or just any old pair?"
"Colors together. That's how we always play."
"Then I get to ask if you've got a black queen or a red queen."
"You don't have a queen, you're just mocking me."
"I do so have a queen! But, yeah, I'm mocking you, too."
"Besides, I don't have either, and you already went fish, so it's my turn."
"I never thought about the past tense of 'Go Fish.'"
"'Went Fish.'"
"Now I know."
"Do you have a red seven?"
"Go fish. Do you have a red queen?"
Silence. "Oh, go to hell."
"You just *pulled* it? Oh, I love this game. Do you have a—"
"Wait. You go again?"
"Yeah, I got a pair. So I get to go again."
"I thought you just got a pair and that was it."
"No, you go again until you stop getting pairs."
"Okay."
"Do you have a black queen?"
"This joke isn't nearly as funny as you think it is."
"Oh, it so totally is. Puerile humor is always funny. Damn! I drew the black queen."
"Doesn't that mean you're winning?"
"Yeah, but now I can't say 'queen' anymore."
"A real tragedy, there."
"Do you have a black nine?"
"Go fish. Do you have a red ten?"
"Go fish. Hand it over. The *bottle*, dude. Are we betting for anything, here?"
"You want to?"
"Sure."
"Wait. I don't want anything of yours."
"Since I already gave you that car. It doesn't have to be a thing—oh, here's mine. If I win, you have to serenade Clark with a song, when he shows up. In front of everybody."
"No."
"Come on. You know you want to."
"I'm not serenading anybody—"
"'Wherever You Will Go'?"
"Least of all an underage high school football player who's fixated on the girl whose birthday party I'm hosting."
"Buck-buck-b-kawk!"
"No chicken sounds. I'm not doing it."
"You do that, and then if I lose, I'll fix Speed Racer."
"I don't want you to fix Speed Racer. It's fine just the way it is."
"In half?"
"It's a reminder."
"That you're a shitty driver, I know. Well, what else? I'll do something embarrassing."
"Do one of your interpretive dances."
"Oookay…"
"Of your breakup with Radiohead Bryan."
"Oh. Oh, no way. No way. I am not tainting my art with a cheap and tawdry story."
"Interpretive dance *is* cheap and tawdry."
"You didn't even see the last performance!"
"You sent me a tape."
"And I'm so sure you watched it."
"I did! I even wrote you that letter. It was a marvel of epic proportions. Your troupe rivals Alvin Ailey's in its audacious simplicity, its original music selections, it's gravity-defying feats."
"Now you're confusing my interpretive dance with my tumbling class. And Alvin Ailey doesn't do interpretive
dance."
"You have too many hobbies."
"Cars, dancing, computers, tumbling. Not that many. Dad doesn't approve of any of them, of course."
"Not even you can be the perfect daughter."
"Why did you take up fencing, by the way? You used to hate stuff like that."
"Trying to get into Dad's good graces. It's not working as well as I'd hoped."
"I love it. Between us, we make one ideal child and one demon seed."
"So. If I win, you do the dance."
"If *I* win, *you* sing a power ballad."
"We'll have to get a lot more drunk than we are right now."
"No kidding. Whose turn?"
"Yours."
"Okay. Do you have a red three?"
"Go fish. Do you have a black nine?"
"Hey! I just asked you for that!"
"And I drew it right after. Give it up."
"I hate you."
"I don't mind so much. Do you have a black six?"
"Ugh! Here."
"Do you have a red ace?"
"Go fish, you bastard."
"Okay."
"Do you have a black ace?"
"Go fish."
"Hey! Cool. Your turn."
"You got a pair. Don't you go again?"
"No, because it's not the pair I asked for. If you go fish and get a match for a different card, then you don't get another turn. You just put down the pair."
"This rules seem awfully arbitrary."
"That's because I'm pretty much making them up as we go."
"How is it we can't remember how to play from one game to the next?"
"Because we play maybe three times a year."
"We should right the rules down somewhere."
"We're getting old."
"Hey! There you go. If I win, you can get me an automated wheelchair."
"A what?"
"I saw them at the retirement home, a few weeks ago. It's the way to travel."
"I'll buy you an IT for Christmas."
"We get complimentary ones, I think."
"No, just Dad. I can't believe he actually invested in that stupid-ass invention."
"Just wait until everyone's buying them."
"Yeah, I can really see the demand. A whole new way to get run over by a car."
"Do you have a red jack?"
"Go fish."
"How do we decide who wins?"
"What do you mean?"
"Is the winner whoever gets rid of all their cards first, or whoever has the most pair when the first one finishes?"
"Um… the second one. I guess?"
"Maybe there's a rulebook for this game."
"A rulebook."
"There could be."
"For 'Go Fish'? I don't think so."
"You should get me that for Christmas, instead of the IT."
"What about the wheelchair?"
"The wheelchair could have a little pocket for books, you could put it in there."
"You're expecting *more* than one present?"
"Yes, I am."
"Fine. Fine. Greedy little capitalist. Do you have a red five? Yes! Woo, hoo. Almost done. Do you have a black king?"
"Go fish."
"Dammit."
"Do you have a red king?"
"You totally saw what I drew!"
"And whose fault is that?"
"Oh, sure, blame the victim."
"Of all the things that I would say describe you, 'victim' would be the last on the list."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever."
"Do you—well, I know you don't have a red jack, so I'll just go fish."
"Yeah. Do you have a red king?"
"Go fish."
"This is getting monotonous."
"Maybe we should figure out a new game to play, next time."
"Well, the solitaire games that I play whenever you're within a five-mile radius usually turn into a two-person game, so—"
"You're a terrible solitaire player."
"That's because I never have a chance to practice it solitarily."
"What about gin?"
"To play, or drink? Because I'm getting pretty wasted on the bourbon, and I think gin in combination might make my stomach very unhappy."
"To play."
"But we don't know how."
"So buy me the big rulebook for card games, and we'll learn."
"That sounds a little labor intensive. Your turn."
*
"He didn't show up."
"I know."
"Is everybody gone?"
"Yeah, people left a while ago."
"Okay, then I'm going to tell you a big secret."
"Lex, you really need to go to bed. And drink about a gallon of water before you do so. And maybe take a shower."
"I didn't do anything embarrassing, did I?"
"Well, if you did, at least you did it in the coatroom and not out in public."
"You left! Where did you go?"
"You wanted to know if Clark was here, and you were too much of a wussy-man to see for yourself. Come on, upsy-daisy. Lucky the butler didn't see you back here."
"I hid under my coats. They're all back here. He got mad when he saw somebody had been sitting on the guests' coats, though."
"You *hid*? Come on. I'm not carrying you. Up you go."
"You never came back. Left me all alone with that big old bottle of bourbon."
"Big old, now *empty* bottle of bourbon."
"Where did you go?"
"I ended up partying with some of the denizens of Smallville. Not slack- jawed yokels. I'm very impressed. Even though there was a distressing amount of plaid and gingham."
"There wasn't any gingham."
"Yeah, but you could tell all the girls were feeling naked without it."
"So he never came."
"Nope. Sorry."
"Yeah. That's my secret."
"What is?"
"I'm a little disappointed."
"You're a little disappointed?"
"Just a little."
"Well, look on the bright side—watch the steps—look on the bright side. At least you didn't have to sing for him."
"Did you win?"
"Yep. In the sudden-death round. I think that's why you polished off the bottle. But you lucked out."
"I should go sing for him now!"
"That's a really, really bad idea. Come on, we're almost at the top."
"Wow. This house has a lot of steps."
"Very astute of you. You've been living here, what, two months, and you just now notice that the place has a lot of steps."
"Well, I'm very drunk right now."
"That's so, so true. Here we go, turn the knob. No, you have to turn—here, I'll get it. All right, now sit here—no, fine, just lie on the bed."
"Lilly, we're brother and sister, you shouldn't be getting me into bed—"
"You're so squicky right now, I'm just going to pretend you didn't say that."
"Stop taking my clothes off."
"I'm taking your shoes off. Calm down. Hold on, I'm going to find a glass of water. *Don't* pass out until you drink something."
"I don't want to drink anything."
"Unless you want to spend tomorrow morning throwing up everything you ate tonight, you're going to drink some water. You're the one who taught me this trick, Lex. Stay awake for five more minutes, I'll be right back."
*
"Lex. Lex! Wake up."
"What?"
"Drink."
"Oh. Thanks."
"Heh. You're drooling."
"I am *not* drooling, it spilled."
"Fine. Now go to bed. Thank God tomorrow's Sunday. I'm going to my room down the hall, okay? You wake me up before noon, I won't be responsible for the consequences."
"Okay. G'night."
"Goodnight, Bumpy."
"Don't… [yawn] call me… that…"
"Hey, Bumps, did you miss me?"
"Lilly, I told you that you couldn't come here for—"
"Excuse me? Couldn't? I don't think that's going to work out very well, especially since I already told Dad I was spending the weekend and he thought that it would be a perfect opportunity for me to bond with my wayward brother. So don't go spouting off 'couldn't' at me, buddy."
"You're spending the weekend?"
"Do you want me to drive back tonight?"
"Preferably right now."
"I have this weird feeling that you're not thrilled to bits."
"I am thrilled to bits. Really. But I don't need you to come down here every time I have a—"
"A meltdown? Look, I'm not even worried about that. You're going to have to learn to accept death and I don't know how to fix that for you. Ooh, nice hallway. Dad really went all out with this place. I just came here to scope out all these people you've been talking about. I won't even tell anybody I'm related to you, I'll just say that I'm a friend of a friend, and I'm crashing, or whatever."
Silence.
"God. I promise that I don't care about your emotional well-being in the slightest. *Now* can I stay?"
"Fine. But it's not going to be that interesting. Just a bunch of high school kids packed into a big room with loud music and tacky balloons."
"Don't forget the cake. Besides, I *am* a high school kid. So, where do I get to crash?"
"Come on. There's probably a guest room somewhere upstairs."
"There are probably about fifty."
"Good point. I haven't done much exploring. There's already a worn place in the carpets between my room, my office, and the front door."
"Poor Lex. All the gifts of Midas, and no time to enjoy them."
"So, where's Radiohead Bryan?"
"Not here."
"Evidently."
"It didn't work out."
"Is there a story, or should I just look sympathetic?"
"I'll take door number two."
"You don't want his legs broken, or anything."
"Aw. And this isn't even *my* birthday party. But I'm fine. I already put a nasty virus on his computer, so I'm feeling okay. Thanks, though."
"Not a problem. I think this is one of the free rooms; let's see..."
Silence.
"What do you think?"
"You—"
"Do you like it?"
"Oh, my God. You did all this? You are the best brother ever."
"Well, I knew there'd be no stopping you, so I figured the best way to make sure you didn't stay long was to make you feel as welcome as possible. That usually gets you unnerved pretty quickly."
"But you—it's just like my room at home. This is so perfect. Okay, what the hell is that?"
"The poster? I thought you liked that movie."
"I've never even heard of that movie."
"'Suspect?'"
"Bumpy. It's 'The Usual Suspects.' With Kevin Spacey and Gabriel Byrne? As opposed to Cher and Dennis Quaid?"
"I told the decorator the name of the movie was something 'Suspects.' I guess they were all out of the other poster."
"You dork. Thank you so much."
"Sure. But we still have to share the bathroom, so don't take forever getting ready. The party starts in three hours."
*
"You look very nice."
"Are you kidding? I look fabulous."
"Well, you should, considering how long you took in the bathroom."
"Oh, like you had anything to do in there besides shine your head. Where's the party girl?"
"Not sure. She disappeared right after the receiving line."
"I can't believe Nasty Nell made her have a receiving line."
"I think it was the organizer's idea."
"She hired an organizer for this?"
"I did."
"Lex—"
"It was either that, or let her drive me up the wall blathering about balloons and the size of the cake. At least the organizer got paid to put up with her."
"Good idea. So your Adonis isn't here yet?"
"He's not my Adonis. And no, he isn't."
"Ooh. Somebody sounds pouty."
"Lilly—"
"I'm sure he wouldn't stand *you* up."
"As much as I appreciate your attempts to set me up with—"
"This isn't an attempt. This is me, making fun of you."
"Clark and I are just friends."
"With benefits."
"I'm going to go find Lana."
"You do that. I'll mingle and tell embarrassing stories about you."
"Do I have to lock you in the coat room again?"
"You can't lock me in the coat room."
"Yes, I can. I'm still bigger than you."
"Yeah, but there's no lock on the door."
"You checked?"
"Hell, yes. I know you."
"Hmph."
"Hey. That reminds me..."
"You want to?"
"Do you? We haven't done that since last Christmas."
"Sure. It'll be fun."
"Okay. I'll steal some alcohol, you get the cards."
"I'm the one who's of legal age."
"Oh, like that's ever been a problem for either of us. 'Hi, I'm the billionaire's offspring. Give me liquor.' 'Okay.' Not hard."
"Fine. I'll meet you there in ten minutes."
*
"Did you shuffle them?"
"Yes."
"I didn't see you shuffle them."
"That's because you were busy piling all those coats on the floor."
"It's not my fault Dad has a marble fetish. My ass is cold."
"*My* ass fell asleep about five minutes ago, and you don't see me complaining."
"You want a coat?"
Silence. "Well, not *that* one."
"It's fine. It'll be soft."
"Give me something a little more manly."
"You and this manly fixation. Leather is plenty manly."
"Not when it's attached to fur cuffs and a collar."
"Well, in its defense, I don't think it's real fur. Or real leather."
"Even worse."
"I know. An entire family of synthetic bunnies, slaughtered for this."
"Heh."
"Shuffle again."
"I already shuffled."
"I trust you about as far as I can throw you, so do it again."
"I'm not shuffling again."
"Shuffle, or I'm not giving you any bourbon."
"Fine."
"Thank you." Silence. "Crap. This is the shittiest hand in the whole history of shitty hands."
"Do you ever learn? Poker face. You have to have a poker face at all times."
"Well, it's not like we're playing—"
"It's the principle of the thing."
"Who starts?"
"I think you do."
"Doesn't the dealer start?"
"No, the person to the left of the dealer."
"Nobody's to the left of the dealer."
"You are."
"I'm sitting across from you, Bumpy."
"You keep calling me that, when you're the one with the egg-sized knob on your head."
"Which was *your* fault."
"I never made you go up that tree."
"You dared me!"
"I didn't dare you to fall off. And besides, you're responsible for your actions."
"I was seven."
"You were eight."
"I was impressionable. And I'm still not to your left."
"In a metaphysical sense, you are."
"So metaphysically, I'm starting."
"Then start. And give me the bottle."
"I should have grabbed a few glasses. After a while, we're going to be fighting over that thing."
"Are you going to start?"
"Fine, Mr. Rushy McHasty. Do you have a *queen*?"
"Go fish—shut up."
"Bwah! Or *are* you a queen?"
"No more bourbon for you."
"Like hell no more bourbon for me. I *stole* that, fair and square."
"From my bar."
"That's not the point."
"Do you have a red seven?"
"Wait. Are we playing the way where you have to put the colors together, or just any old pair?"
"Colors together. That's how we always play."
"Then I get to ask if you've got a black queen or a red queen."
"You don't have a queen, you're just mocking me."
"I do so have a queen! But, yeah, I'm mocking you, too."
"Besides, I don't have either, and you already went fish, so it's my turn."
"I never thought about the past tense of 'Go Fish.'"
"'Went Fish.'"
"Now I know."
"Do you have a red seven?"
"Go fish. Do you have a red queen?"
Silence. "Oh, go to hell."
"You just *pulled* it? Oh, I love this game. Do you have a—"
"Wait. You go again?"
"Yeah, I got a pair. So I get to go again."
"I thought you just got a pair and that was it."
"No, you go again until you stop getting pairs."
"Okay."
"Do you have a black queen?"
"This joke isn't nearly as funny as you think it is."
"Oh, it so totally is. Puerile humor is always funny. Damn! I drew the black queen."
"Doesn't that mean you're winning?"
"Yeah, but now I can't say 'queen' anymore."
"A real tragedy, there."
"Do you have a black nine?"
"Go fish. Do you have a red ten?"
"Go fish. Hand it over. The *bottle*, dude. Are we betting for anything, here?"
"You want to?"
"Sure."
"Wait. I don't want anything of yours."
"Since I already gave you that car. It doesn't have to be a thing—oh, here's mine. If I win, you have to serenade Clark with a song, when he shows up. In front of everybody."
"No."
"Come on. You know you want to."
"I'm not serenading anybody—"
"'Wherever You Will Go'?"
"Least of all an underage high school football player who's fixated on the girl whose birthday party I'm hosting."
"Buck-buck-b-kawk!"
"No chicken sounds. I'm not doing it."
"You do that, and then if I lose, I'll fix Speed Racer."
"I don't want you to fix Speed Racer. It's fine just the way it is."
"In half?"
"It's a reminder."
"That you're a shitty driver, I know. Well, what else? I'll do something embarrassing."
"Do one of your interpretive dances."
"Oookay…"
"Of your breakup with Radiohead Bryan."
"Oh. Oh, no way. No way. I am not tainting my art with a cheap and tawdry story."
"Interpretive dance *is* cheap and tawdry."
"You didn't even see the last performance!"
"You sent me a tape."
"And I'm so sure you watched it."
"I did! I even wrote you that letter. It was a marvel of epic proportions. Your troupe rivals Alvin Ailey's in its audacious simplicity, its original music selections, it's gravity-defying feats."
"Now you're confusing my interpretive dance with my tumbling class. And Alvin Ailey doesn't do interpretive
dance."
"You have too many hobbies."
"Cars, dancing, computers, tumbling. Not that many. Dad doesn't approve of any of them, of course."
"Not even you can be the perfect daughter."
"Why did you take up fencing, by the way? You used to hate stuff like that."
"Trying to get into Dad's good graces. It's not working as well as I'd hoped."
"I love it. Between us, we make one ideal child and one demon seed."
"So. If I win, you do the dance."
"If *I* win, *you* sing a power ballad."
"We'll have to get a lot more drunk than we are right now."
"No kidding. Whose turn?"
"Yours."
"Okay. Do you have a red three?"
"Go fish. Do you have a black nine?"
"Hey! I just asked you for that!"
"And I drew it right after. Give it up."
"I hate you."
"I don't mind so much. Do you have a black six?"
"Ugh! Here."
"Do you have a red ace?"
"Go fish, you bastard."
"Okay."
"Do you have a black ace?"
"Go fish."
"Hey! Cool. Your turn."
"You got a pair. Don't you go again?"
"No, because it's not the pair I asked for. If you go fish and get a match for a different card, then you don't get another turn. You just put down the pair."
"This rules seem awfully arbitrary."
"That's because I'm pretty much making them up as we go."
"How is it we can't remember how to play from one game to the next?"
"Because we play maybe three times a year."
"We should right the rules down somewhere."
"We're getting old."
"Hey! There you go. If I win, you can get me an automated wheelchair."
"A what?"
"I saw them at the retirement home, a few weeks ago. It's the way to travel."
"I'll buy you an IT for Christmas."
"We get complimentary ones, I think."
"No, just Dad. I can't believe he actually invested in that stupid-ass invention."
"Just wait until everyone's buying them."
"Yeah, I can really see the demand. A whole new way to get run over by a car."
"Do you have a red jack?"
"Go fish."
"How do we decide who wins?"
"What do you mean?"
"Is the winner whoever gets rid of all their cards first, or whoever has the most pair when the first one finishes?"
"Um… the second one. I guess?"
"Maybe there's a rulebook for this game."
"A rulebook."
"There could be."
"For 'Go Fish'? I don't think so."
"You should get me that for Christmas, instead of the IT."
"What about the wheelchair?"
"The wheelchair could have a little pocket for books, you could put it in there."
"You're expecting *more* than one present?"
"Yes, I am."
"Fine. Fine. Greedy little capitalist. Do you have a red five? Yes! Woo, hoo. Almost done. Do you have a black king?"
"Go fish."
"Dammit."
"Do you have a red king?"
"You totally saw what I drew!"
"And whose fault is that?"
"Oh, sure, blame the victim."
"Of all the things that I would say describe you, 'victim' would be the last on the list."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever."
"Do you—well, I know you don't have a red jack, so I'll just go fish."
"Yeah. Do you have a red king?"
"Go fish."
"This is getting monotonous."
"Maybe we should figure out a new game to play, next time."
"Well, the solitaire games that I play whenever you're within a five-mile radius usually turn into a two-person game, so—"
"You're a terrible solitaire player."
"That's because I never have a chance to practice it solitarily."
"What about gin?"
"To play, or drink? Because I'm getting pretty wasted on the bourbon, and I think gin in combination might make my stomach very unhappy."
"To play."
"But we don't know how."
"So buy me the big rulebook for card games, and we'll learn."
"That sounds a little labor intensive. Your turn."
*
"He didn't show up."
"I know."
"Is everybody gone?"
"Yeah, people left a while ago."
"Okay, then I'm going to tell you a big secret."
"Lex, you really need to go to bed. And drink about a gallon of water before you do so. And maybe take a shower."
"I didn't do anything embarrassing, did I?"
"Well, if you did, at least you did it in the coatroom and not out in public."
"You left! Where did you go?"
"You wanted to know if Clark was here, and you were too much of a wussy-man to see for yourself. Come on, upsy-daisy. Lucky the butler didn't see you back here."
"I hid under my coats. They're all back here. He got mad when he saw somebody had been sitting on the guests' coats, though."
"You *hid*? Come on. I'm not carrying you. Up you go."
"You never came back. Left me all alone with that big old bottle of bourbon."
"Big old, now *empty* bottle of bourbon."
"Where did you go?"
"I ended up partying with some of the denizens of Smallville. Not slack- jawed yokels. I'm very impressed. Even though there was a distressing amount of plaid and gingham."
"There wasn't any gingham."
"Yeah, but you could tell all the girls were feeling naked without it."
"So he never came."
"Nope. Sorry."
"Yeah. That's my secret."
"What is?"
"I'm a little disappointed."
"You're a little disappointed?"
"Just a little."
"Well, look on the bright side—watch the steps—look on the bright side. At least you didn't have to sing for him."
"Did you win?"
"Yep. In the sudden-death round. I think that's why you polished off the bottle. But you lucked out."
"I should go sing for him now!"
"That's a really, really bad idea. Come on, we're almost at the top."
"Wow. This house has a lot of steps."
"Very astute of you. You've been living here, what, two months, and you just now notice that the place has a lot of steps."
"Well, I'm very drunk right now."
"That's so, so true. Here we go, turn the knob. No, you have to turn—here, I'll get it. All right, now sit here—no, fine, just lie on the bed."
"Lilly, we're brother and sister, you shouldn't be getting me into bed—"
"You're so squicky right now, I'm just going to pretend you didn't say that."
"Stop taking my clothes off."
"I'm taking your shoes off. Calm down. Hold on, I'm going to find a glass of water. *Don't* pass out until you drink something."
"I don't want to drink anything."
"Unless you want to spend tomorrow morning throwing up everything you ate tonight, you're going to drink some water. You're the one who taught me this trick, Lex. Stay awake for five more minutes, I'll be right back."
*
"Lex. Lex! Wake up."
"What?"
"Drink."
"Oh. Thanks."
"Heh. You're drooling."
"I am *not* drooling, it spilled."
"Fine. Now go to bed. Thank God tomorrow's Sunday. I'm going to my room down the hall, okay? You wake me up before noon, I won't be responsible for the consequences."
"Okay. G'night."
"Goodnight, Bumpy."
"Don't… [yawn] call me… that…"