Two friends, Kyle and Jason, were engrossed in a game of truth or dare during a sleepover in their lofty treehouse.
Kyle, a self-proclaimed Daredevil, had just finished regaling Jason with tales of his daring escapades. "From running in my underwear across the neighborhood, eating cockroaches, to showcasing my journal of darkest secrets to the entire school, I've done it all," he boasted, laughing at Jason's disbelief.
Jason, skeptical, asked, "Don't you have any regrets doing all those dares, Kyle?"
Kyle responded with a dismissive wave, "Not really. Many people eat cockroaches, and the underwear stunt has been done countless times. As for my secrets, I don't care much about them. Plus, I absolutely relish the attention from the ladies."
Jason crossed his arms, unconvinced. "There must be something you would never do?" he prodded.
Kyle, ever the showman, flashed a mischievous grin. "Okay, how about this? You come up with a dare you think I wouldn't do. If I back down, the hundred bucks in my backpack is all yours," he proposed, pulling out the cash for effect.
Jason's eyes widened at the sight of the money. "Are you serious?" he asked, incredulous.
Kyle reaffirmed, "I'm a daredevil, Jason. I don't joke about dares."
Jason paused, deep in thought. "Give me a moment, I'll be right back," he said, exiting the treehouse.
After thirty minutes, Jason returned, holding a chocolate bar. "Sorry for the wait, but I had to go back to my house to fetch something," he explained, smirking.
Kyle raised an eyebrow, "A chocolate bar? That's your impossible dare?"
Jason's smirk widened, "It's not just any chocolate bar. It's a bomb. Are you willing to eat a bomb, risking an explosion?"
Kyle scoffed, "Really? Making up stories to scare me? Hand it over," he demanded, extending his hand. Jason, surprised yet compliant, handed it over.
Kyle unwrapped the chocolate bar, biting into it. The bubbly, delectable taste caused him to devour it quickly. He swallowed, turning to Jason, "I don't get it. I thought it would work?"
Jason, still smirking, responded, "I got it from my dad's garage. He works on experimental bombs. Remember I told you about this in preschool?"
Kyle shrugged, unimpressed. "No offense to your dad, but none of his experiments ever worked before. All that chocolate bar did was give me a bubble taste in my mouth," he said, burping loudly.
Jason grimaced, "Have some manners, Kyle!" But he paused as Kyle burped again, a wisp of smoke escaping his mouth.
Jason's phone rang, displaying his father's contact. He answered, "Yeah, pops?"
"Son, were you in my garage? The experimental chocolate bomb I was working on is missing," his father's voice came through anxiously.
"Yeah, I gave it to Kyle as part of a dare," Jason admitted.
"ARE YOU INSANE? THAT WAS A BOMB!" his father yelled.
"Dad, it was just a chocolate bar. I doubt it would actually cause Kyle to explode," Jason rationalized.
"Is he burping or releasing smoke that smells like strawberry?" his father asked frantically.
Jason, stunned, responded, "Now that you mentioned it, yeah."
"GET OUT OF THERE RIGHT NOW!" his father screamed.
Jason, finally realizing the gravity of the situation, ran from the treehouse and into the front yard. He barely had time to turn around when...
BOOOOOM!
The treehouse exploded, scattering debris everywhere.
"Um, dad... Sorry for not believing you," Jason said over the phone, shaken.
"You're grounded until the end of summer school," his father declared, ending the call.
Jason sighed, realizing that being grounded till the end of summer, when school was still in session in February, was a long time. His dare had indeed backfired, and he was going to pay for it for months.
And so, the lesson learned was, some dares are better left unchallenged.
A moment ago with Kyle.
As Jason bolted out of the treehouse, Kyle was left in bewildered silence. The laughter and bravado that had filled the air moments ago now echoed eerily around the wooden walls. The daredevil, the showman, was alone with the consequence of his dare.
Kyle felt a strange sensation stirring within him. His heart pounded in his chest like a drum, not from fear, but from an odd, bubbling sensation building from his stomach. The taste of the chocolate still lingered in his mouth, now accompanied by a strange aftertaste of strawberries.
His eyes widened in realization as he burped again, this time, the smoke curling up more aggressively. He could see it snake around in the dimly lit treehouse, illuminated by the faint moonlight filtering through the branches.
"W-what's happening?" he stuttered, his voice echoing in the empty space. The truth of Jason's dare started to dawn on him, and a cold dread seeped into his veins. The once harmless chocolate bar had turned into a ticking time bomb inside him.
He swallowed hard, his hands clasping his stomach, which was now churning uncomfortably. The laughter and smugness were gone, replaced by a face filled with regret and fear. He looked towards the door where Jason had disappeared, then to the hundred-dollar bill lying forgotten on the floor.
"I guess some dares are meant to be challenges, not victories," Kyle muttered, his voice quivering. He thought about his mother, his father, his little sister, and his friends. He thought about the love he had for them and the good times they had shared. If only he had been less reckless, less eager to prove himself.
A tear slid down his cheek, glistening in the moonlight. A final burp rumbled up from deep within him, bringing with it an ominous cloud of strawberry-scented smoke. The treehouse suddenly felt like a coffin, closing in on him.
"Tell them… I'm sorry," he gasped, hoping somehow his last words would reach the people he cared about.
And then, in an explosion of light and sound, Kyle and the treehouse were gone. The blast shook the trees and sent birds fluttering into the night sky. The Daredevil's last dare had ended, not with a round of applause, but with a somber, echoing silence.
What Kyle wish he would have done With the little Tommy had left if he had realized it.
As the realization of his impending doom settled in, Kyle's trembling hands fumbled for his phone in his pocket. His vision blurred by the smoke and tears, he dialed the one number he knew by heart - his mother's.
The phone rang once, twice, and then her soothing voice filled his ears, "Hello, sweetie. Is everything okay?"
The sound of her voice, so normal, so mundane, sent a fresh wave of pain through Kyle. He was about to shatter their world, and she had no idea. He swallowed hard, fighting back the lump in his throat.
"Hey, Mom," he choked out, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Kyle? What's wrong, honey? You sound upset," his mother's voice was laced with concern.
There was so much he wanted to say, so many apologies, so many goodbyes, but time was against him. The bubbling sensation in his stomach intensified, and he knew he didn't have long.
"I love you, Mom," he managed to say, his voice shaking with emotion. "Tell Dad and little sis that I love them too."
There was a pause on the other end, and then his mother's voice came again, softer this time, "We love you too, Kyle. But why are you saying this?"
Kyle took a deep breath, tasting the strawberry smoke on his tongue. "I...I made a mistake, Mom. A big one. I...I just want you to remember that I love you all, okay? And I'm sorry."
Before his mother could respond, the final burp erupted from his mouth, releasing a thick cloud of strawberry-scented smoke. Kyle dropped the phone, his last words echoing in the now silent treehouse.
"I'm sorry."
And then, with a deafening blast, Kyle and the treehouse were gone, leaving behind only the echo of his final apology and declaration of love.
The end