Disclaimer: Me no ownage of these characters.

Notes: Mmkay folks, here's the deal. I was sitting in math today and I was bored out of my skull when the thought of an incident began to gnaw at my brain. This plot bunny was formed a long time ago, but it was during fourth period today that it took shape.

Lots of crap in this chapter is Christie's.. but it was the combined effort of both our brilliant minds to make it all happen.

Also! All of you California RENTheads. If you haven't already talked to Christie about the meetup over Winter Hols, please write to either me or her if you want to come.

Writer's block teh suck! Sorry this took so very long to put out, but I just couldn't think. Please review, kids. I'll love you forever. 3

I remember one night; things were going really well between Roger and me. We hadn't argued at all for almost a week and we actually had food at the house for once. Collins had spent about $45 of his paycheck on putting groceries in our cupboards. We had Mountain Dew for my late night caffeine fixes, Coke for Roger, coffee, Fritos, Top Ramen, and most importantly... Cap'n Crunch. Roger always used to joke that Cap'n Crunch was my one vice.

Anyway, we had been playing darts on our handy dandy magnetic dartboard and Roger was kicking my ass... as usual.

00000

Roger grabbed his three red darts and threw them one at a time at the dartboard in quick succession. As each one hit, his grin grew more and more wide. Mark looked at his friend through the lens of his camera and sighed.

"Zoom in on the dartboard with Roger's darts in near-bull's-eyes on it." He turned the camera on himself and sighed again. "My turn."

He turned the camera off and set it down, taking up his yellow darts instead as he shook his head. Roger pulled his magnetic darts off the board with a gloating grin.

"Are you ready to give up yet?"

"Yes," said Mark flatly.

"Too bad!" Roger gave an almost maniacal laugh.

"Come on, Roger! There's no way I can beat you and I'm getting cramps in my arm from trying to!"

"Fine." Roger sighed and brought his darts with him to the kitchen table. He hopped on top of it and began toying with them.

Mark smiled and took a seat in a chair beside Roger. With his elbow on the table and his cheek resting in his palm, Mark picked up one of his darts and pushed the magnetic end of it toward the magnetic end of another dart. When the second dart jumped back a few millimeters, Mark grinned and picked it up. For a good minute and a half he kept himself entertained by attempted to push the two positive poles of the magnets together as a highly amused Roger observed silently.

"Okay, enough." Roger grabbed the darts from his roommate.

Mark just grinned and pushed at one of Roger's darts with his remaining one. In an odd, cartoon-ish voice he 'walked' the yellow dart to a red one. "Roooger! You know you want to plaaay."

"Oh my God. You are not serious."

"Look! It's me, Roger!" His voice changed back into the voice of dart-Mark. "Roger! Play with me!"

Roger just stared and slowly arched an eyebrow. "And people tell me I need help."

Mark swatted at Roger's arm and stuck his tongue out. "Shut up! But you're right. I do need help."

"Yes you do." But he knew there was more to that sentence and waited for it.

"Help playing!"

"No!"

"Fine."

Mark took one of Roger's red darts from the pile. With one yellow and one red in either hand, Mark began moving them about the table as though they were dolls.

"I'm Roger. I'm broody and bitchy and play the guitar because guitar-players are hot. My girlfriend's a slut!"

"Mimi is not a slut."

Mark fixed him with a questioning stare for a moment before continuing. The red dart bobbed in his hand as it 'spoke'.

"Music is cool. I love ABBA."

"Do not!"

"Do too!"

"Not!"

"Too!"

"Not, not, not!"

"Too times infinity!"

"Bastard!" Roger glared before he got an idea. With one swift movement, he snatched the yellow dart from Mark's other hand.

In his own version of a character voice, Roger spoke as 'Mark'.

"My name's Mark. I love my camera. I want to have its babies!"

"Aw, man, that's wrong!"

"Roger is the sexiest man ever. I want his hot body."

Mark flushed, but stayed silent.

"But not as much as I want my camera!"

Mark picked up another yellow dart and it 'walked' up to 'Mark' and in an offensive and strident screeching voice said one, drawn out, give away word.

"Pookie!"

Both men burst into a fit of laughter fit for schoolgirls and Roger grabbed the last yellow one.

"Honeybear, go inside and stop cheating on me!"

"But Pookie!"

"Bitch, shut up!" 'Joanne' knocked into 'Maureen' and 'Maureen' shrieked. They laughed again.

"Joanne doesn't talk like that!"

"But it'd be funny if she did..."

Twenty minutes later they were somehow still deeply involved in their role play. The two remaining red darts had become Collins and Mimi. Mark orchestrated a bitch fight between 'Roger' and 'Maureen' which ended with 'Roger' throwing 'Maureen' over the side of the table and 'Joanne' jumping after her.

'Mark' and 'Mimi' had it out in a knock-down, drag-out fight complete with hair pulling and eye scratching.

Mark was the victor.

"Ha! Take that, bitch!"

'Maureen' and 'Joanne' ended up coming back, but moved away to 'Upstate' (the other side of the table). When they were finished, they had eaten half a bag of Fritos and 'Mark' had killed 'Mimi', the bag of Fritos had eaten 'Collins', 'Maureen' and 'Joanne' moved to Upstate New York away from the group after threatening to smack Roger with her penis.

"Boy, you best shut up before I dick slap your ass!"

Mark snorted.

"Bring it on, Joanne."

"It's already been brought, bitch!"

'Joanne' had chased 'Roger' all around the table and finally 'Mark' intervened by running around screaming "Run! She's got a lesbian death beam!" which was the most random thing Mark or Roger had ever heard. They later determined that a 'lesbian death beam' was Joanne's 'penis' and thought that sufficiently explained what they were trying to convey.

'Mark' and 'Roger' were left to themselves. When the dead 'Collins' reappeared in a handful of Fritos, they laid him down on the table. It happened that he was laid beside a lone curled Frito and they were apart from everything else on the table.

A sheet of water clouded Mark's eyes. He looked up at Roger and blinked. Roger frowned. Together they said, "Angel."

They decided that be the graveyard. They laid all of their fallen dart-friends beside each other with 'Mimi' and 'Collins' on either side of 'Angel'.

Roger looked down at the only red dart left. It was in his hands.

It was him.

He laid it down beside 'Mimi', still frowning.

All lined up in a row were the three dead darts and a Frito. All three darts were red. Neither Mark nor Roger said a word. Both noted the symbolism in their little role playing. Which ones had died, in what order—the fact that all of the red darts were representing those with AIDS.

Mark tentatively reached out to Roger, placed his hand gently over his friend's. Roger quickly recoiled and leapt to his feet. His eyes locked on the darts for a long while. The dead ones, the two separated from the group, and the lone one. The singular yellow one left alone; unable to die like the reds and unable to move on like the yellows. Caught between. Roger looked at Mark only once. He saw the tears on Mark's cheeks and with a feral growl, overturned the table and stormed into his room.

Mark watched him leave and then looked back at the table. That was the way it would be someday. They would all be gone except for him. He would always be alone.

He'd always known it somehow, but it didn't completely dawn on him until three dead darts, two lesbians and a Frito showed it to him.