A Stupid Game

by Matthew Haws

joystick, jump, fracture, correlation, discipline, live

Professor Alonso Pratt had a double master’s degree, one in ancient civilizations and the other in being awesome. Ruggedly handsome even when dirty, as he was now, and built like a men’s magazine model despite the advancing grey hairs at his temples, the Professor was both a man of science and of action. Kicking ass was his middle name. Professor Alonso Kickingass Pratt.

“Professor, what did you find?” shouted Kelly, Professor Pratt’s plucky young sidekick. Her voice echoed down from the top of the chasm where he’d told her to wait, shaking the walls of the ancient temple and causing lines of dust to drift down on the Professor like rain.

Alonso Pratt barely heard her. Standing before him was one of the greatest finds of his career, a solid gold Aztec statue about the size of a man’s forearm, a unique discovery that would undoubtedly solidify his reputation. He felt himself perspirating with excitement in an appropriately masculine manner.

“Hurry, Professor!” said Kelly, “The Russian mercenaries will be here soon!”

She was right. There was no time to lose. The one-eyed Russian would not give up on his chase, not after his humiliation back in Cairo. Best to be gone before he and his hired goons arrived.

The Professor scooped up the statue and it slid seamlessly into his inventory until he was ready to use it. Then he began his climb up the waiting rope. A sudden tremor shook the half-buried temple, and had Professor Pratt not possessed the uncanny agility of a panther he might almost have fallen to his death in that very moment.

“Professor!” Kelly shouted, “What was that?”

“An explosion of some kind,” Alonso Pratt replied, “I’d guess our Russian friends have arrived.”

“They’re trying to bury us down here!”

“Calm down, Kelly. I’m almost there.”

But scarcely had the words left the Professor’s mouth then there was a massive crack above him. He looked up in time to see a massive fracture spreading across the stone ceiling of the temple, huge chunks coming loose to hurtle in the good Professor’s direction.

Planting his feet against the wall of the chasm, the Professor shifted his weight so that he moved out of the way of the falling debris. He climbed another few steps, then dodged another fall stone chunk. Then, fatefully, he seemed to hesitate. He moved to the left, then to the right, but not fast enough, too slow. A giant piece of stone rubble collided against the Professor in a sickening thud, and the man’s mangled body fell out of sight into darkness.

Kelly screams of disbelief were underscored by sad music, and then a fade to black.

________________________________________________________________________

“Dammit!” Travis threw down the joystick in anger. “Every single time at the same spot! This stupid, STUPID game.”

Angie stuck her head into the room. “Did you die again, Trav?”

“Shut up.”

But Angie wasn’t about to shut up just yet. “What part? Aw, the rope climbing bit? You never get past that.”

“I said, shut up, Angie!”

“Come on, Mr. Cranky, just try again.”

Travis repressed the urge to push his stupid sister. “I don’t have any lives left, stupid. It’s game over.”

“That means you have to start from the temple entrance again!”

“I KNOW WHAT IT MEANS, ANGIE.”

"Geez, cranky! Anyway, aren't you late for work?"

Travis rolled his eyes with as much disdain as he could manage. "Noooo, I--" he began, but then his eyes fell on the large clock that hung on the wall, surveying the front room with an imperial air. "Oh, crap!"

"Told you!" Angie called out after him, but Travis wasn't listening. Late again! How he could let this happen? He tried frantically to invent a story that Mr. Hardy would accept, but discarded each one after a moment's consideration. He’d used all the likely ones already. At this point, he had to expect the worst.

“You’re fired,” said Mr. Hardy. Huh. The worst was worse than he expected.

Walking home, sad and dejected, Travis didn’t look up in time to see the oncoming bus. The driver honked, but it was too late. At the last minute, poor Travis tried to jump out of the way but was clipped by the massive bus and was knocked across the road. He rolled a few times on the pavement, then came to a stop, and all faded to black.

_______________________________________________________________________

“Fleeboblit!” cried Lieelot, throwing down the joystick in disgust, “Yet another shameful failure!”

Artinng stuck its proboscis into the room, sniffing. “Did your lack of skills and discipline cause you to fall short of success again, Fleeb?”

“Cease your interrogation this instant, Artinng.”

“You lost employment and then were mortally wounded by a passing public transit vehicle, correct?” Artinng let out a vaguely self-satisfied odor. “Why always some dreary fate when you play this stupid game?”

“I will remind you but once more that I have requested you cease interrogation!”

“You could simply begin again,” Artinng pointed out.

“This course of action that you suggest will require me to begin with the birth cycle and the childhood phase all over again,” said Lieelot, frustration pus oozing from his pores, “The designer of this horrid game decided each hu-man shall only receive one life, thus I would need to recommence from the very beginning should I continue, as well you know, Artinng!”

“Well, maybe you should take a break from playing Hu-mans and go outside to get some fresh methane.”

“If I do so, it will be of my own volition and not at your suggestion, my impertinent broodmate. Now vacate these premises!”

Letting out a cloud of disgust gas, Artinng rolled out of the room. Lieelot sighed and pulled out the game disc from his simulator. Perhaps he had spent far too much time playing Hu-mans, a game so badly designed and so unfair that it seemed almost to punish the player for participating.

What could be the point of such a game? Quivering with confusion, Lieelot decided to go out for some methane after all. It would be all too easy to get stuck inside brooding over the rules to some silly, stupid game.

And that would be unhealthy, wouldn’t it?