“Boom, got it! It’s a pair of tits!”
It was Sunday evening at Jeff’s place, meaning it was game night for the long time friends. The reason Charles, the brown-haired fellow in buttoned-up stripe shirt, was shouting such obscenities from his side of the kitchen table was because a close game of Pictionary was going on, his dyed-blonde wife and team-mate Mary making a confusing mess of circles on the white board.
Believe it or not, this activity was supposed to be recreational and such things had kept this group of four friends tight. They’d met in college, first year sweethearts in a sense, and they’d be riding the friendship train ever since. The pictures on Jeff and Dorthy’s fridge said it all, getting through the marriages, the beach holidays in Mexico, the hard times without work, the good times with friends, all created a wonderfully warming collage. It was a small miracle that they were able to stay friends though, as their personalities couldn’t have been any different.
Charles, currently sitting in the chair by the fridge, was a man out time, a regular 50s gentleman whose clothings were as stiff as his politics. He got away with a lot of what he said because of his looks, dashing at every angle, a Don Draper with brown hair. Though considering that he drank and smoked like the Mad Men too, there was little doubt that these strong features of a tall body with strong chin would eventually fade.
His currently drawing wife, Mary, was quite the fit for him, the perfect fifties housewife in manner and style, though with a mix of a 21st century fitness model for anyone who had seen her in a bathing suit. They’d married out of high school, usually a bad sign for the future, but the gang swore she hadn’t frowned in the last five years. She wasn’t the submissive type either, as although a little emotional over logical at times, she was the queen of keeping the peace, doing subtle manipulations to make her husband and best friends in the world happy while frankly making pies that one could lose one’s mind over.
At the other side of the table was the polar-opposite couple, Dorthy and Jeffrey. Dorthy was a pretty Jane in many ways, the brunette good looker, but not one to flaunt it, mostly settling for nerdy t-shirts and dirty jeans, hair in a ponytail and make-up only on special occasions. She let her mind do the talking most of the time, a sharp wit with an even snarkier tongue, you didn’t want to get on the wrong side of her when she was two whiskey glasses in, a habit encouraged by her drinking-buddy/debate-opponent Charles.
Dorthy’s husband, Jeffrey, was frankly the cuter of the two of them, even she’d admit, a hipster incarnate which drove his students at the college a little crazy. His bright red hair was the first thing you’d notice in a crowd of people, quickly followed by his colourful dragon tattoo stretching down his left arm. He dressed old like Charles, but it was ‘ironically’ so, his little grey vest with red slacks a perfect throwback to the prohibition fashion, making his craft-beer taste all the better. He kept himself in rather impressive shape thanks to the free gym on campus, but it didn’t make him bigger as much as merely fitter, his butt a great prize for the wifey.
”Their toast.” Dorthy snickered in her Spock shirt as she elbowed her husband in the stomach.
“Five…” Jeff was always the first one to state the facts, so naturally he was counting down the sands in the hourglass. “Four…”
”C’mon honey…” Mary’s red lips pouted, long, ass-length hair shaking all over her black, white polka-dot dress. “It’s more abstract.”
“Cleavage? Tatas? Hooters?” Charles kept on shrugging. “Mary-babe, if you want me to see something different, stop drawing nipples!”
“Eeeerrrrrrhhhh.” Jeff and Dorthy let out a unified buzzer sound with a giggle.
“It was ‘Sexuality’!” Mary popped her hip to the left and raised an eyebrow, smile still remaining. “Sorry, I probably could have done a bit better but-”
”Damn right you could.” He shook his head, taking a sip. “What about throwing a dancing woman on there or something.”
”Sexuality for Charles?” Dorthy raised a glass, rubbing her chin. “Draw a woman without a brain, triple G-cups, and put her in a business suit holding a bottle of Scotch.”
”Why aren’t you on my team?” He shot back with a smirk.
There was a laugh, the same warm chuckle from the four of them which kept they relationship comfortable.
Too comfortable, in fact.
They’d been doing this for 93 straight weekends, excluding holidays, and such things were getting terribly predictable. That wasn’t the first time they’d made that joke, but there was a certain rhythm which kept this relationship static. Like a lot of couples though, there was a desire to shake things up a bit without doing the whole ‘wife-swap’. At least for now. Naturally, when couples get bored they come to a similar conclusion no matter where they live.
Hook up their single friends!
That’s why there was a third team tonight, quite the contrasting figures which only this group of friends could bring together. Andrew looked at his beer again, biting the bottom of his lip and adjusting his glasses. Janet drummed her rough fingers against the table, the tattoos up and down both of her guns dancing as she gave a subtle flex.
Andrew was the tall owner of the comic book/coffee shop store that Jeff frequented between classes. A nerd to the heart certainly, he also was a bit of a neurotic, micro-managing his shop to near perfection, not even a single issue on the shelf not perfectly straight and alphabetized. This didn’t leave him with a lot of time to date however, his other obsession the gym but the poor guy was too shy despite now having quite the fit body, thus Jeff asked Dorthy if she knew anyone.
Dorthy ensured her free time was spent empowering herself, so she had a few people to call upon from her many hobby and clubs, the first one coming to mind was her captain from paintballing. Janet was a badass to the heart, a former marine who took out some of her aggression doing some ‘paint-ball therapy’, she was the kind of woman who took shit from no one, but sure in hell loved a challenge. Almost never out of her backwards black ball cap, she was leaning back in her black tank-top at the moment, swirling a cup of lemonade, alcohol free of course, because booze took off the edge she loved to live on.
“It’s not going well…” Jeff whispered quickly to Dorthy, nose brushing against her ponytail. “Why did you say they’d be good together?”
”I don’t know.” She hissed back. “I mean, they’re both in good shape and… yeah… Muscles. Don’t muscle people just flex and get together? That how it always works on TV, right?”
”Brilliant.” He nodded. “But I think we have a secret weapon.” He turned to Andrew and snapped his fingers. “So bud, you said you had a game for us?”
“Hmm?” He tilted his head, the gel of spiked-up hair he made for his date lighting up under the kitchen lamp. “Oh right!” He excitedly shot up and winked over to Janet. “You wanna see something cool?”
”Is it a M32 Grenade Launcher?” Janet’s sharp eyebrow raised, taking a sip, setting her glass down without a hint of a smile.
“Uh, kind of?… No?” Andrew shrugged as he backed off into the back room. “I’ll be right back.”
As he was gone, Charles pulled Mary to his lap, savouring her tight fleshy bum on him as he felt up her waist. “By the way, Janet. I want to say again that I appreciate your service for our country and thank you for our freedom. I respect the hell out of the troops and veterans.”
”Mmmhmm.” She hardly gave him a look. “Did you serve?”
“Um, well no.” He cleared his throat. “I mean, I was studying at college and-”
”Well, it’s never too late.” She snapped over with a smirk. “I know a recruiter who will get me a five-thousand dollar signing bonus if I can get him some fresh blood.”
He cleared his throat louder. “I-I think I can serve my country better doing what I’m doing actually.”
”Yeah.” She took another sip and winked. “America certainly needs more bankers, right?”
“Isn’t she awesome?” Dorthy squeaked out into Jeff’s ear.
“That’s a word I suppose..” He shook his head, hoping to hell that this Janet didn’t bring any other guns apart than the biceps on her arms.
“Tada!” Andrew placed a heavy chunk of metal upon the middle of the blue tablecloth and clapped his hands clean. “If you were tired of doing all that Pictionary, than I’ve got a game which will blow your socks off!”
It was a surprise that Andrew had called this a game, as this twisted pile of bronze appeared more like a lost wreckage washed ashore rather than anything Milton Bradley would put out. Pinkish joints curled around something which immediately drew the eyes, a ball covered in seeming green mold, slowly swirling around of its own volition. On its side, there was a dark bulging crank, a firm black handle on the warped protruding metal which hung low on this obtuse-egg-like structure. It was sitting upon a dinner-plate base, turning dials and meters with foreign markings. What really was the centre piece though, was the hallow slit just below the ball, too thin for fingers, and the two buttons which laid just below, a crimson red ‘X’ and a hypnotic emerald line ‘-’.
“Ugh.” Mary scrunched her lips a bit. “Did you find it in a dump or something?”
”I get it.” Charles nodded. “The loser has to stick their dick in it, right?”
”It was mysteriously dropped on the doorstep of my comic book store. No owner, just there when I opened up in the morning.” He reached into his pocket. “It did come with some instructions though.” He unfolded water-damaged paper torn at the edges, giving the appearance that he pulled it from a bottle at sea.
Janet pushed the buttons to no response, but chuckled. “Alright. This is almost as cool as a grenade launcher.” She poked the ball in the middle, a gross squish coming from it as it warped around her finger. “Please tell me it still makes explosions though.”
“It’s like a quiz game.” He looked between the instructions and his quizzical-faced friends. “We break into females and males and take turns answering questions.”
”Sorry honey.” Dorthy put a hand on Jeff’s leg. “I’m sorry I’m going to have to kick your ass tonight.”
“The twist is though, when you get the question right or wrong, you choose if you want your team to receive benefits or the other team an inconvenience.” He adjusted his glasses. “So a battle of the genders I guess? Dicks on this side and boobs on the other.”
“Well, battle of the sexes actually.” Jeff stood up to switch sides with Mary. “But the point is clear.”
”Sex, Gender. It’s all the same.” Charles got his game face on, pouring a little more neat scotch before handing the bottle to Dorthy. “The men have got this and girls are going to be washing dishes, or whatever the punishments are for these games.
“It’s literally not the same.” Janet growled over as she smacked the table. “And I’m going to enjoy making you lick my boots.” She pointed down and gave a chuckle. “I don’t even care what the damn rules are. You’re licking them.”
Charles opened his mouth, but Mary spoke up. “Now ladies and gentlemen, I think we should keep it clear that no matter what happens, the side who really wins is the team which remains most civil in either victory or defeat, no?” Her smile subsided the tension like hot knife on butter. “How about we say the winner gets to take home of my award-winning brownies? That’s a victory which makes every competition more fun!”
Andrew nodded. “Sounds good. How about I start just to show how this game goes?” He reached forward to the handle but a little static popped out and he felt a spark go down his arm. “Ow~!” He stuck the finger into his lips as the little green static jumped from his white long-sleeved shirt to Charles.
“Ow.” Charles winced.
“Ouch!” Jeff pouted.
“Owie!” Mary squeaked.
“Fuck.” Dorthy grunted.
“Hmm.” Janet shrugged before taking a sip.
“Did you all just…” He watched as there was another spark from the handle. “It’s not even plugged in or anything. Weird multi-shock, I guess.” He reached forward and pulled the handle a crack, a little ding come from the machine. From the slot came a card, a beige hard-paper which bold and dripping cursive wrote out the first challenge.
-Name Five Types of Haircuts.
He scoffed. “Hell of a first question.”
Mary raised a finger. “So easy! There’s the-”
”Shut it!” Dorthy pinched her bare thigh, making the blonde jump.
“Well, there’s the…” Andrew squinted his eyes, “like, beehive?” He turned to his teammates. “Seriously I don’t know any.”
”Um… Pixie?” Jeff shrugged. “Honestly I just print pictures from the internet when I get mine done.”
”I’ve got mine done from the same barber when I was a boy. I just ask for the usual.” Charles pointed to his slick hairs. “Haircut names are for chicks.”
”Well, we’re boned for this one then.” Andrew shook his head, a little blushed. “Unless you girls want to throw some pity my way for the first round?”
”Of course, Andrew!” Mary perked up. “There’s-”
Janet slammed her fist into the table, shutting the blonde up instantly. “No Way José! No charity, no mercy. This is a battle after all.” She turned her head slowly to Mary. “Right, ladies?”
Mary gulped. “Y-Yes sir!”
Dorthy smacked her head. “By saying ‘sir’, you are inadvertently playing into masculine assumption that hierarchy and leadership are male-qualities.”
”Oh.” The wife bit her nail and murmured. “But women are so soft and sweet…”
“Don’t listen to that feminist propaganda, honey-bun. We’ll show real quick what a team I can whip into shape with my male-leadership.” He chuckled and tapped his head.
“Well, your team just lost, Mr. Man.” Dorthy mimed a gun and fired it, blowing some smoke off of it.
“You know, even though its a small-arm, you really should have a two handed pose when firing a pistol.” Janet knocked at the table, nodding her sagely advice.
“Uh, thanks Janet.” The gal with the pony tail took a sip with rolling eyes.
“Pfft, I’m just joking girl!” She slapped her back hard enough for a bit of whiskey to come from her nose. “I’m not that much of a jarhead! Good burn.”
“Shh…” Jeff put a finger up to his soft lips. “We’re deciding to punish ourselves or reward you.”
Andrew looked up to Janet. “Got any guesses what a ‘feminine’ reward is?”
“I swear to god if some flowers pop out of this cool looking hunk of junk.” Janet growled. “I’m going to make a home-made flamethrower right at this table.”
“Well, maybe that’s the best choice then.” Andrew chuckled as he pressed the emerald line button, the ball in the middle lurching before spinning radically. The paper in his hand with the question burned up, Andrew getting a jump from that, but his eyes nearly popped as he looked at his palm.
Slowly cursive trailed across from his thumb to his pinkie spelling out a phrase.
-Change Number #1: Norms -
No More Long Hair for Either Gender.
Expectations for Hair to be Short is Normal.
“Jesus.” He slowly muttered, reading the words again, the creepy font having a low glow to it.
“What is it?” Mary perked up to his squinting eyes.
“There’s writing on my hand.” Andrew looked up to the lovely blonde and immediately covered his mouth. “Your hair!”
“What?” She gasped and put her hands on her head, coiling up a short blonde bang which cut just before her eye. She then felt up the back of her head, a tight brown buzz which showed off her original dark brown colours with blonde hairs above her ears. She sighed. “Don’t scare me like that!”
“But…” He looked to the right. Dorthy’s ponytail was gone too! Although her look didn’t change much, her cut too was tighter and more boyish looking. Boyish at lease in the world which Andrew remembered. “Your hair was long…” He firmed up his fists and stood up. “You both had long hair just a second ago. Look at my hand!” He showed in the inside of his palm, completely clean now of any writing.
”Long hair?” Charles leaned on his palm. “Get a hold of yourself man. Long hair, on my Mary? My wife keeps a nice clean house, and let me tell you, a clean house starts with a clean set of hair.”
”Are you saying that once you hit that button..” Jeff’s brow furrowed. “The girls lost a bit of hair?”
”Not a bit!” He tugged on the hair on the top of his head. “Mary had it down to her butt, and Dorthy had a pony-tail!”
”Gross!” Dorthy stuck out her tongue. “Like what? A dirty hippie from the sixties?” She looked at her arms. “Like, did we look like gorillas?”
“I dated a girl with long hair in high school.” Jeff sighed. “It was pretty gross. The hair would get in my mouth and I swore everything I had her long hairs on it.”
“Wait did I have long hair?” Janet chuckled. “Was a princess or something?”
”No, your hair is the same, jus-just the other girls, the head on their head, but… Argh.” Biting his fist, he pulled out his smart phone and started typing. “Just give me a second.”
“Can you imagine how much time we’d have to spend cleaning and styling our hair?” Dorthy sighed as she ran her hand through her pixie-cut.
“At least another fifteen minutes to half-hour in the morning.” Mary quickly calculated before smiling to her husband. “You’d be tickled pink with that, surely.”
“Women with long hair is the stupidest idea ever.” Charles shook his head with another sip. “Like letting your nails grow to nine-inches or something. A little is nice and delicate, but too much? Like a creep.” He paused then chuckled. “Though you girls would be easier to catch in the bar.” He turned to point at Jeff. “Can’t say how many times back in the day when I’d start a conversation with someone like Jeff from the back, only for him to spin around and it was a woman.”
Jeff blushed. “It’s a shame about shiny dresses then, because I would have gotten even more free drinks than I already did!”
Dorthy rubbed her temples. “Are you seriously telling us that you believe we’ve been changed by this game? That none of us here, or in the world, remembers that women had long hair?”
“You know, Dorthy.” Janet tsked with an unsubtle head bob towards Andrew. “When I said I liked the spontaneous type, this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind…”
Every actress, every singer, every historical picture of women, every porn-star, every woman that Andrew brought up in his photo search on his phone had different styles of short hair. The only results for long hair showing indeed unwashed people who didn’t care about their appearance, or side-show attractions. “This is crazy.”
”Well.” Mary clapped her hands. “Who says I get my brownies out of the freezer, and we’ll find another ‘clash of the sexes’ or whatever to play.” She stood up and wiggled her hips to Jeff and Dorthy’s fridge.
“No!” Andrew grumbled, stomach feeling sick. “It says the game doesn’t restart until the end. I-I didn’t get what it meant in the instruction until I read that...”
“Look bud.” Jeff rubbed his back. “Let’s, like, play another game, maybe get another beer into you, and we’ll talk about playing a bit more maybe after you’ve had time to think.”
”I’m not crazy.” Andrew clenched his fists as he looked back between the short haired girls at the table and his phone before sighing and leaning back in his chair, rubbing his own pointy hair. “I’m not…”
“So, how long was the hair though?” Charles leaned in, waving his glass. “Like are we talking like to the shoulders? The bum? The floor?”
”Enough, Charles.” Dorthy snapped. “We’re changing the topic or I’m talking away your whiskey privileges.”
”Fine.” He raised his hands. “I guess I’ll just kick your ass in another game.”
“Boot licking is still on the table.” Janet repeated, but this time with a more playful smirk.
“Jeeze…” Andrew wiped his forehead. It really seemed that everything was the same except this one change. He supposed this could be a psychological break from working too many days straight at his business, but something about this machine. There was an allure also made him suspicious of it being something else, something sinister.
Fri Jul 27 12:43:44 2018
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3 comments Last updated: Thu Aug 30 01:13:01 2018