Author's Note: Poor Billy. Just when he thinks he's done with the Council they drop right on his doorstep unannounced. Well, he can handle it. He's had worse things happen. Billy was the tortured soul under Jack Skellington's "care" in a previous story of mine. Jack Skellington is the main character of The Nightmare Before Christmas, a wonderful film I highly recommend viewing and the inspiration of my collection of stories on the site. Now that the disclaimer's over and done with, let's get to the game. (Re-edit comment: Not so many typos here. Good. I'm getting better at proofreading. I think so anyway.)
"Don't start without me," Jack said as he walked into the kitchen.
"We weren't going to, don't worry," Tevel said as he motioned to an empty seat next to him at the wooden round table.
"Thanks for saving me a spot," Jack said as he plopped himself down between Tevel and Jacob.
"It's alright for me to gamble? Are you absolutely sure?" Jacob asked Saint Patrick, who was on his other side.
"The Lord will forgive one night, Lad. Besides, we play in the heavens all the time," Saint Patrick said, nodding towards Santa Claus to the right of him.
"At least, we used to, back before we were designated with Holidays," Santa Claus said as he began to deal the cards.
"Aye, good times," Saint Patrick replied.
"What does this card mean?" Cupid asked as he showed the group the Ace of Spades before Santa Claus snatched it away.
"You're supposed to keep your hand secret, Cupid," Santa Claus said as he began to shuffle the cards once more.
"He's doomed," Jacob remarked in a semi-serious tone, causing the rest of the table to laugh, except for Cupid.
"Not funny," Cupid said to the Easter Bunny sitting next to him, who stopped chuckling to himself when Cupid did so. Then, the god looked back to Santa Claus. "And which hand are you talking about, Mr. Claus? I have two of them."
"Your hand of cards, Cupid," Santa Claus stressed.
"Even I knew that," Jack said, not realizing he had mildly insulted himself.
"Well, that certainly is scary," Santa Claus said before putting a very small velvet sack in the center of the table. "Before I forget, everyone, pick out four of the marbles that are in that bag."
"Why?" Jacob asked as everyone picked out four marbles.
"That is what we will bet with," Santa Claus said. "We're not playing for money."
"Figures," Jack said before an inquisitive look came upon his face. "What are we playing for?"
"There is only one month of the entire year that has no holidays: August. Gentlemen, what you hold in your hands are numbered marbles corresponding with the days of August, the prize for tonight."
"Interesting choice of prize, Nicholas," Tevel said.
"I felt it was appropriate. Whoever has the most marbles at the end of thirty-one rounds, one for each day, wins the entire month for his own purposes, whatever they may be."
"Well, I guess one night of gaming won't damn my soul," Jacob said with a sheepish grin.
"There should be twenty eight out of the bag right now. If Billy is to join, he will get the last three. If not, I will leave them in the care of his... guardian," Santa Claus said as he pushed the bag with the remaining marbles to Jack.
"Fascinating game," Jack said. "But what if we lose all of our marbles?"
"Good question, Jack," Santa Claus said. "If you lose all of your marbles, you have to bet days of your own particular month. For example, if I have no marbles left, I have to bet December 13th or 22nd or any other days."
"I get it now," Saint Patrick said.
"Does everyone?" Santa Claus asked, receiving nods from around the table. "Good, let's begin."
"Shouldn't we wait for Billy?" Jacob asked.
"He can join in later," Jack said as he picked up the cards Santa was dealing to him. "Besides, he's a little busy at the moment," he finished as he looked towards the kitchen door.
Past the door and further to the very front door of the house, Billy was still chit-chatting with Vanessa. Now, Vanessa was very sweet but at times very no-nonsense and businesslike. She seemed to be in one of those latter moods. She was certainly dressed to reflect it, wearing black pumps, a knee-length black skirt and short sleeved white blouse. Her brown hair was done up in a bun and her glasses seemed to be sliding away from her hazel eyes and down her nose from time to time, either from gravity or impatience.
"Billy, come on. You look fine to go out," she said, tilting her head to the left and touching Billy's left shoulder.
"You know, I think I'm relapsing into my cold," Billy said nervously. "I'd better not risk it."
"Men can be such babies when they're sick," Vanessa said as she finally walked into the house. "Do you have any medicine left?"
"I used it all."
"And you haven't been to the pharmacy?"
"I wasn't planning on getting sick again, Sweetheart."
"And I wasn't planning on having our date cancel out again. I could have been done overtime and gotten less hours for the weekend."
"Well, you're here now. Say, why don't we pop in a movie and watch it in the living room in the dark? No pagers going off in the movie theater, no loudmouths, no crying babies... sound good?" Billy asked, desperately trying to keep his date and his sanity.
"That does sound nice," Vanessa said. "What do you have to watch?"
"Go on over next to the TV, I have a whole rack of videocassettes," Billy said.
"Let's see... How about Alien? I haven't seen that one in a while."
"Me either. Put it in the VCR and I'll go make some popcorn."
"Hurry back," Vanessa said as Billy walked into the kitchen.
"Hey, Billy!" Jack exclaimed when the mortal walked through the door.
"Shhhh! She's here," Billy whispered.
"Who is?" Tevel asked.
"His girlfriend," Cupid said as he looked at his cards.
"How did you know that?" Billy asked Cupid.
"Come now, Billy, what kind of Love God would I be if I did not know who your lady friend was?"
"Good point," Billy said as he put a bag of popcorn in the microwave. "Let me know when it's ready," he told the poker players as he walked back out into the living room.
"Who were you talking to in there, Billy?" Vanessa asked as he sat down on the couch next to her.
"Talking? Me?" Billy asked.
"I think so."
"Oh, I was just, um... setting the microwave clock. I tend to speak aloud when I do that."
"You're weird," Vanessa said in an affectionate manner as she nestled her head against Billy's chest.
"You have no idea," Billy said to himself quietly.
Can Billy depend on the Holiday Folk to watch his popcorn? Will Vanessa realize that Billy isn't really talking to himself after all? Who will leave Billy's with all of their marbles, literal and figurative, intact? That's for other chapters to answer.