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Before: A Game of Clue


Nick

My Christmas Miracle Ho turned out to be Not a Miracle at all. As she passed us checking all the passanger belts were clicked into place properly, the gold band on her left hand caught the light streaming in from Dogface's window. "Looks like she's someone else's Holiday Ho," Dogface whispered once she'd passed by us, and was out of ear shot.

"Damn," I muttered, sitting back in my seat in frustration. "Breaking tradition is bad luck."

Dogface smirked. "It's okay, sweetie, the hos will be extra horny when you return to them in two days, that's all." She put her hand on my forearm, fake comforting me. "They will survive, Nick, and so must you. You need to move on."

"Poor hos," I muttered, shaking my head regretfully. "Nobody to take advantage of their Daddy issues. What will they do with themselves?"

"Maybe they'll gain some self respect," Dogface replied.

My eyes widened. "They can't. Not in two days. Right?"

"Not the whole city of Los Angeles. I don't think there's enough self respect karma in the universe to fix the whole of the Angel City."

"Oh good," I replied.

The flight was boring after I'd come to the unfortunate resignation that I wasn't gonna be having any holiday hos in the latrine. I was getting a little desperate, which I unfortunately only realized when I'd looked twice in the direction of a little old woman with blue hair. I glanced at Dogface, who was reading a book on her Nook. I leaned over. "What'cha readin'?"

She looked up, "A book."

"No shit. What book are you reading?"

Dogface contemplated for a moment whether she wanted to tell me or not. FInally, she replied, "Chinese Cinderella."

I pulled a face. Dogface had read and reread Chinese Cinderella about a hundred thousand times and I really didn't understand why. We'd been assigned to read it in school back when we were twelve. It was the most depressing book in the entire world about this Chinese kid that gets ignored and treated like shit by her family and in the end she gets treated like more shit by everyone else and eventually she learns to read or something. I dunno, but it's really depressing. But for whatever reason Dogface thought it was interesting or something and it'd been her favorite book since then and I think she seriously read it like twice a year. Maybe even more that I didn't ever find out about.

"Just because you don't like it doesn't mean I can't read it," she said hotly.

But she turned her Nook off and pulled out a deck of cards and we played a sloppy game of crazy eights on one of the fold down trays. Which I kept losing. After six consecutive lost games, I dropped my cards on the tray. "I don't wanna play this anymore," I complained. "You're cheating somehow."

"I'm not cheating," she said, "You're just terrible at this game is all."

I scowled, "I'm air sick and you're taking advantage of my handicap."

"You always have some excuse when you're shitty at a game," Dogface accused. "Like all those times you mysteriously got sick during Battleship just before I shot the last of your ships down, or that time when we played Jenga when you bumped the table during my turn."

"I did not bump the table."

Dogface raised an eyebrow.

"I own you at Clue," I shot back because I didn't really feel like arguing about the Jenga Game Incident. Which may or may not have been factual. I'll never tell.

"Only because you made up like fifty new characters, rooms and weapons and never told me," Dogface argued.

"So?"

"So last time it turned out to be a Zombie in the Gazebo with a Light Saber, Nick!" Dogface said, her voice getting a little squeaky as she said my name. "I didn't even know those were options!"

"I added it to the rule book," I said. Then I added, for emphasis, "In pen."

Dogface rolled her eyes, "Besides that - A, there isn't even a gazebo on the board, and B, Zombies do not have access to light sabers."

"It's not always logical," I said.

"Zombies and Light Sabers don't even exist in the same universe, idiot," she said, "At least normal combinations make sense."

"What the fuck would Kernal Mustard be doing with a rusty pipe, hmm?" I demanded, "That doesn't even make sense. That's something only the plumber would have."

"There isn't a plumber in Clue," Dogface said. She paused, "In normal people Clue."

"No plumber! Then who the hell is Mrs. Plumber married to?" I demanded.

"It's Mrs. Plum," Dogface said, rolling her eyes, "As in the color, or the fruit."

I shook my head, "You know nothing."

"I know nothing? It's Colonel Muster that has the rusty pipe, not Mustard, how's that for not knowing anything?" she demanded.

"Then why's his peg yellow, huh? Answer me that!"

"I don't know, but it's not Mustard," she said.

"You're a tard," I replied.

"No, you are."

"You are!"

"You."

"I'm tellin' my mom when we get to Florida!" I cried.

"Fine, go ahead," Dogface answered, "And I'll tell her what a manwhore you are. Your pipe's gonna get rusty if you ain't careful with all your Malibu Barbies."

"My pipe is not rusty!" I shouted.

Suddenly, Not-A-Miracle was leaning in front of me, her big bust right in my face. "Excuse me, is everything okay? I have a couple of passangers complaining about some shouting..." she smiled sweetly.

Why the hell did those boobs have to be the property of someone else for anyways? I wondered, staring at them.

"No we're fine, I'm sorry," Dogface said, her cheeks turning red.

Not-A-Miracle nodded, smiling still, "Indoor voices, please," she requested, and ducked away.

Dogface looked humiliated.

I watched Not-A-Miracle go then turned back to Dogface. "Think if I keep being naughty, she'll spank me?" I asked.

Dogface rolled her eyes. "You're a pig."

"And you're a bitch."

She laughed, "But that's why you love me."

I snorted, "Please," I said, "I don't love you."

Dogface laughed and turned to look out the window.




Ashley

Sometimes, I wonder if Nick has a soul.

I mean, it's funny because there's these moments with him where he's the most absolutely loving, kindest, gentlest person that I've ever met. He can make the entire world be bright and beautiful and safe and then turn around and be the biggest dick in the world. Like he's a giant penis with no heart. He just morphs into this whole other person, like a switch going off in his head. And it sucks because I never know which version of Nick I'm gonna get. And sometimes penis Nick can be really funny, but other times he just is so insensitive...

He kept nudging me, trying to get me to chat with him for the rest of the flight. He finally made due with just keeping a running commentary of his brain while I sat in silence staring out the window. He didn't shut up for a solid hour. And it wasn't until he got babbling during a showing of the Charlie Brown Christmas special that I finally had enough and answered him.

"Ever wonder why Charlie Brown is such a tool to Peppermint Patty? I mean she's like the only Peanut character that really wants anything to do with him and he treats her like crap..." he paused. "I mean, she's totally a butch and I bet she ends up with Marcy in the end, but..."

"What the hell kind of thing is that to say?" I demanded, turning on him.

He looked surprised. I'd been quiet so long I guess he'd believed I hadn't been listening to him. "Well - Seriously, Marcy's like a pining lesbian. I dunno why, I mean Peppermint Patty's ugly as all hell but --"

"Christ Nick."

"What?"

"You're such an asshole," I replied.

"What!"

"Only you could take a beloved Christmas story like the Peanuts and turn it into a Lesbian love triangle."

Nick looked flabbergasted, "Dude it's all right there in the story."

"Patty isn't even in this one," I pointed out, waving a hand at the teeny TV screen.

Nick shrugged. "I'm just sayin', like in general. Like in the Thanksgiving one."

"You're such an asshole."

Nick laughed. "Which reminds me... I was thinkin' the other day, and I think that if I die before you, I want you to destroy my computer hard drive before anyone else sees it. Especially if I'm married." He nodded.

I blinked. "What in the hell reminded you of that?" I asked.

Nick pointed at Charlie Brown.

I blinked.

"The lesbian triangle," Nick said, exasperated. "Because, you know - the porn stash."

I laughed in spite of myself. Only Nick could connect Charlie Brown to porn in less than a minute. "Oh Jesus Nick, I don't know about you sometimes, you're so fucked up."

Nick grinned. "Promise me you'll bust my drive before anyone sees?"

I rolled my eyes, "I promise to keep your porn stash my secret. I'll take it to my grave."

"Okay good. Also, you should also write like a heart warming memoir, you know, something about how good of a person I am and stuff."

"You're a good person?" I teased.

"Sure I am," Nick nodded, "I do like charity and shit."

"If by Charity you mean that girl you met at the Jack in the Box, then yes."

Nick grinned, "Ah yes, Charity. I remember her." He snorted. "I called that night a Nick in the Box value meal." His teeth were bright white.

"You're so sick," I laughed.

"So if you die, what can I do for you?" he asked.

I drew a deep breath, "Ohhhh, I don't know. Well for starters, you could not put Dogface on my tombstone."

Nick laughed, "But how else am I gonna find your grave to like, you know, put flowers and shit on it later?"

I raised an eyebrow. "You're gonna put flowers on my grave?"

Nick shrugged, "Who else is gonna?" he asked.

I laughed - but it was the kind of sad, hollow laugh that people give when it's not really funny. "Yeah," I said, "That's true."

We fell into silence for a long moment. The pilot came on telling us the temperature in Florida and that we'd be landing in a few moments, asking us to put our seats in the full upright position. I pushed the tray up into the back of the seat in front of me, the credits finished rolling on Charlie Brown, and Nick played with the buckle on his seatbelt.

He nudged my elbow with his elbow.

I looked at him. "Hm?"

"Don't ever die before me, okay?" he asked.

"Why? Putting flowers on my grave too much for you?" I half-teased.

Nick shook his head, "I just can't picture the world without you in it."