And You Can't Tell Anyone (Track Twelve: III) 2, chapter 3
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"I, won last year," Tré started.
"Wait, wait wait," Billie Joe interrupted. "Why are you calling it the game--sss? It's only one game."
"I changed it because I'm the leader. So there. Be quiet and let me explain." Tré shot Billie Joe a warning look before resuming. "The game was an ancient tradition, dating back to approximately one year ago. Here, on this very spot, the Three Exalted, Completely Divine, Very Sexy, and Smart as Fuck Ones met and the game was born. Exactly one week from Halloween, the game begins with--"
"You're calling it the game now," Mike pointed out.
Tré gritted his teeth and waved the gnome head threateningly. "Would you both shut up for a second? I'm trying to get to that!"
"Well, it's taking you for-fucking-ever. Get to the point already." Billie Joe yawned.
Tré crossed his arms, "You guys have no appreciation for drama. Fine. I'm calling it the games now because we have teams. It's not one against all, it's two on two."
"But there's still only one game right?" Mike asked. Wren could tell from the faint curve of his lips, that he was baiting Tré.
"For fuck's sakes," Tré sighed. "Fine. It's the Gnome Game. I'll leave it alone."
Wren prodded, "You still haven't told me what is going on. Get to the point please."
Billie Joe looked over at Tré, who was now in Turbo Sulk Mode. "Since Mister My Way or the Highway, doesn't seem to be talking, I guess I will. The Gnome Game is just something we thought up. For the week before Halloween, we go all out and try to scare and prank each other. You also have to prank at least one public place. Each one of us is worth one point. A public place is worth five. There are bonus points if you can prank the other person in the public place. You have to prove that you did it."
Wren felt a grin coming on. This sounded like fun. After all, she was the master pranker in the house. "So, teams. Who's on what?"
"You and Mike, me and Tré."
"You forgot something," Tré mumbled.
"What, my little sulky poo?" Billie Joe spoke in obnoxious baby talk.
"There are bonus bonus points if you can get both the people of the team at the same time."
"And what does the winner get?" Wren challenged.
"A nice slap on the ass," Tré replied cheekily.
Mike shrugged as he listed off. "Bragging rights, uh, the possession of the gnome for a year."
In the same apathetic voice, Tré added, "And maybe a bottle of lube for the guys, and a car, and a million dollars."
"Sounds good." Wren made a face, "Except for the lube part. Now, what do we do?"
"Duh!" Tré waggled the gnome's head in her face, "You start planning."
"Just to clarify, these pranks, they don't have to be the old whoopee cushion thing. It is close to Halloween and--"
"You want to scare people. Why of course," Mike tried his best to look evil. "The scarier the better."
Slowly, Tré nodded the gnome's head, "Yeeeesss, scary is goooooood." With a crazy, high pitched, "Muahhahahahha!" He ran off. All three of the remaining people flinched as there was a loud thud. "Alright!" Tré demanded, "Who put that step there? Oh my God. NOOOOOO!" The cry was so heart wrenching, Wren, Mike, and Billie Joe were instantly on their feet and running. Wren got there first, and tripped over Tré, kneeing him in the ribs.
"Ooooff!" She landed on her knees beside him. Tré was hunched over the gnome's head, cradling it.
"Hey what's the matter?" Mike asked as he knelt.
Billie Joe picked up the flashlight and beamed it onto the drummer. The two young men gasped as they saw the tragedy Tré had become part of. The gnome's hat was snapped off, as was his pointy nose. The left side of the face was virtually non-existent.
"You killed Mr. Giggle Sticks!" Billie Joe was aghast as he knelt.
"No, the cement did it. Oh, Mister Giggly, you were too good for this earth." Tré sniffed as he scooped up the shattered pieces.
Wren dusted off her palms. "As catastrophic as this is, I've got to get to bed if I want to pass my history. See you guys in the morning."
She went back into the house; her brain already cycling through all sorts of plans for insane jokes. Too bad the gnome had literally already bit the dust. It could have been incorporated into the game.
She flicked on the kitchen light and stared. Melted marshmallows and chocolate syrup were everywhere. The walls were sticky with the white goo. The counter was a lake of chocolate. There was a sour smelling measuring cup filled with some sort of powder and foam.
Why on earth would they be mixing vinegar with baking powder? Wren could only despairingly shake her head. That's a stupid question. Because it explodes. That's all the reason they would have needed. Well, I'm not cleaning this up.
With a yawn, she wandered down to her room. Sleepily she moved her binder off the bed and changed her clothes. With a bit of hesitation, she turned out her light. She was a bit afraid of hearing that voice again. That made her snuggle right under her blankets.
No more cans of pop before bed, they make my mind work overtime.
She smiled as Mike crept in to sleep beside her. He tiredly wrapped an arm around her waist and snuggled up close behind. The comfort of this simple, common, action was enough to banish thoughts of ghosts and hauntings in order for Wren to drop off to sleep.
"Wait, wait wait," Billie Joe interrupted. "Why are you calling it the game--sss? It's only one game."
"I changed it because I'm the leader. So there. Be quiet and let me explain." Tré shot Billie Joe a warning look before resuming. "The game was an ancient tradition, dating back to approximately one year ago. Here, on this very spot, the Three Exalted, Completely Divine, Very Sexy, and Smart as Fuck Ones met and the game was born. Exactly one week from Halloween, the game begins with--"
"You're calling it the game now," Mike pointed out.
Tré gritted his teeth and waved the gnome head threateningly. "Would you both shut up for a second? I'm trying to get to that!"
"Well, it's taking you for-fucking-ever. Get to the point already." Billie Joe yawned.
Tré crossed his arms, "You guys have no appreciation for drama. Fine. I'm calling it the games now because we have teams. It's not one against all, it's two on two."
"But there's still only one game right?" Mike asked. Wren could tell from the faint curve of his lips, that he was baiting Tré.
"For fuck's sakes," Tré sighed. "Fine. It's the Gnome Game. I'll leave it alone."
Wren prodded, "You still haven't told me what is going on. Get to the point please."
Billie Joe looked over at Tré, who was now in Turbo Sulk Mode. "Since Mister My Way or the Highway, doesn't seem to be talking, I guess I will. The Gnome Game is just something we thought up. For the week before Halloween, we go all out and try to scare and prank each other. You also have to prank at least one public place. Each one of us is worth one point. A public place is worth five. There are bonus points if you can prank the other person in the public place. You have to prove that you did it."
Wren felt a grin coming on. This sounded like fun. After all, she was the master pranker in the house. "So, teams. Who's on what?"
"You and Mike, me and Tré."
"You forgot something," Tré mumbled.
"What, my little sulky poo?" Billie Joe spoke in obnoxious baby talk.
"There are bonus bonus points if you can get both the people of the team at the same time."
"And what does the winner get?" Wren challenged.
"A nice slap on the ass," Tré replied cheekily.
Mike shrugged as he listed off. "Bragging rights, uh, the possession of the gnome for a year."
In the same apathetic voice, Tré added, "And maybe a bottle of lube for the guys, and a car, and a million dollars."
"Sounds good." Wren made a face, "Except for the lube part. Now, what do we do?"
"Duh!" Tré waggled the gnome's head in her face, "You start planning."
"Just to clarify, these pranks, they don't have to be the old whoopee cushion thing. It is close to Halloween and--"
"You want to scare people. Why of course," Mike tried his best to look evil. "The scarier the better."
Slowly, Tré nodded the gnome's head, "Yeeeesss, scary is goooooood." With a crazy, high pitched, "Muahhahahahha!" He ran off. All three of the remaining people flinched as there was a loud thud. "Alright!" Tré demanded, "Who put that step there? Oh my God. NOOOOOO!" The cry was so heart wrenching, Wren, Mike, and Billie Joe were instantly on their feet and running. Wren got there first, and tripped over Tré, kneeing him in the ribs.
"Ooooff!" She landed on her knees beside him. Tré was hunched over the gnome's head, cradling it.
"Hey what's the matter?" Mike asked as he knelt.
Billie Joe picked up the flashlight and beamed it onto the drummer. The two young men gasped as they saw the tragedy Tré had become part of. The gnome's hat was snapped off, as was his pointy nose. The left side of the face was virtually non-existent.
"You killed Mr. Giggle Sticks!" Billie Joe was aghast as he knelt.
"No, the cement did it. Oh, Mister Giggly, you were too good for this earth." Tré sniffed as he scooped up the shattered pieces.
Wren dusted off her palms. "As catastrophic as this is, I've got to get to bed if I want to pass my history. See you guys in the morning."
She went back into the house; her brain already cycling through all sorts of plans for insane jokes. Too bad the gnome had literally already bit the dust. It could have been incorporated into the game.
She flicked on the kitchen light and stared. Melted marshmallows and chocolate syrup were everywhere. The walls were sticky with the white goo. The counter was a lake of chocolate. There was a sour smelling measuring cup filled with some sort of powder and foam.
Why on earth would they be mixing vinegar with baking powder? Wren could only despairingly shake her head. That's a stupid question. Because it explodes. That's all the reason they would have needed. Well, I'm not cleaning this up.
With a yawn, she wandered down to her room. Sleepily she moved her binder off the bed and changed her clothes. With a bit of hesitation, she turned out her light. She was a bit afraid of hearing that voice again. That made her snuggle right under her blankets.
No more cans of pop before bed, they make my mind work overtime.
She smiled as Mike crept in to sleep beside her. He tiredly wrapped an arm around her waist and snuggled up close behind. The comfort of this simple, common, action was enough to banish thoughts of ghosts and hauntings in order for Wren to drop off to sleep.
