Board James

Chapter One

"Okay, " James started. "Here we are again; it's the night before Halloween, and time to review a classic board game. What do we have? One Night, Ultimate Werewolf...okay." Indifferently, he tossed the box aside to reach for another one. "Level Seven, Escape." He turned the box over a few times, shook his head while wincing, and tossed it aside as well. "What's this?"

Amidst other, colorful boxes was a small, square box. A picture of a goofy ghost was on the front.

"Ghost Blitz, and look, there's a green bottle on the ground next to him. Is that beer? Is he drunk? Is that why it's Ghost Blitz? 'Cause he's blitzed? He sure as fuck looks tweaked." James started to crack open the box, but paused. "Major fun award? What the Hell is that? Well, whatever. Let's get started."

After dropping the top, James pulled out a deck of cards and a baggy with game pieces. "Let's see; we got cards with pictures of the ghost. This one has a chair. This one a mouse, and what're these? Oh, this is the chair, but it's red. Why's the chair on the card blue? And what's this piece? A butt plug? Oh, that's the ghost."

Once he finished rifling through the game pieces, he scratched his head in confusion, picked up the tiny manual, and read through it. "A reaction game as fast as lightning for two to eight bright minds. Yeah, no dumbasses allowed. Story and object of the game– Object? Do they mean objective? Anyway....

"Balduin, the house ghost, " he stopped speaking to laugh. "House ghost? Is that like house...? Never mind, we won't go there. So, Balduin found an old camera in the castle cellar. I like where this is goin'; a ghost director. Kind of reminds me of something, but I can't put my finger on it...." Trailing off, the reviewer readjusted his ball cap then returned his gaze to the manual. "Immediately, he photographed everything that he loves to make disappear. So, it's like a camera for pictures not filming; too bad. I wonder if he takes a picture of his ghost shit, 'cause ghost dookie vanishes, get it?" James smiled.

There wasn't anyone else there besides James. To whom he was speaking was as much a mystery as to where his friends had gone. Word was, Board James was a serial killer, a madman cutting the balls off his mates whenever they got tired of his shitty games.

"Unfortunately, the enchanted camera takes many photos in the wrong color. What? Sometimes, the green bottle is white; other times, it's blue. Looking at the photos, Balduin doesn't really remember what he wanted to make disappear next. Yeah, and I don't remember the last time I took a shit or what color it was. Guess I should've taken a picture...now that's a shitty picture."

Frowning so hard his lips curled down, James's eyes went wide as he nodded. "Can you help him with his haunting and quickly name the right piece, or even make it disappear by yourself?" He threw the red, chair, game piece into the corner. "It's gone, vanished, banished to the black hole of Uranus, " he asserted.

The game reviewer shook his head in consternation. Then, cracking the manual open, he perused the actual game rules.

"Ghost Blitz can be played in two different ways, Ghost Blitz Grab, and Ghost Blitz Shout. What's the difference? The set up for both games is the same.

"Place the pieces in a circle, shuffle the cards, the last one in the cellar goes first. What does that mean? I guess the last player to join the game draws a card first.

"So, you draw the card, and if on the card-which shows two pieces of varying colors-one of the pieces is the right color, the first person to grab it wins the round, and gets to keep the card as a reward, but has to return the piece, and the cycle continues. If none of the colors are right then someone has to grab a piece that's not shown on the card and isn't a color shown on the card. Okay?

"Finally, at the end, the player with the most cards in the reward pile is the winner, but if someone grabs the wrong piece, they have to give cards to the person who did grab the right piece...so, alright, it isn't too complicated, but I can't do this alone; time to call some friends."

James reached for the phone, but it was the Dream Phone, and his sourpuss contorted into a monster frown. His wide eyes bored holes through the pink toy, and he knocked it over with a backhand before grabbing his old school landline to dial. After punching in the numbers, the phone rang, followed by a voice.

"Hello?"

"Motherfucker Mike?"

"What's up, James?"

"Come over. It's time to play a game."

"Again?"

"Yes, again; it's always time to play a game, " James said, cryptically.

Sighing, Mike replied, "I don't know...last time we played a game, it didn't work out for anyone."

"C'mon, man, just get off your ass and come over!"

"Can I finish my Hot Pocket?"

"Fine!"

With that, James slammed the phone down. He shook his head in aggravation before coming to his feet. He then left the game room, passed by the basement sink, stopped with his back to it, turned slightly, and glanced at the wet Mr. Bucket toy.

Upstairs, he went to the kitchen to grab sodas and chips in preparation for Mike's arrival. "Why do they always gotta' give me shit? I just want to play a game. Isn't that what reminiscing over childhood is about? Playing games with friends, that's what it's about, and I had a great childhood; great parents, good friends, and every Friday, when the school week was over, all any kid wanted to do was immerse himself in games, forget the bullshit of class and homework, and just rot out the brain with mindless fun."

He paused after setting the chips and soda on the table. Removing his ball cap to run fingers through his hair, he set his jaw. There was that one time, though, that awful, dark day, that blackest of nights; I just wanted...I just wanted to play...Board James, the Game.

A knock at the door drew his attention. "Come in!"

Mike, a wiry man with poofy hair, entered the kitchen. "Hey, dude, what are we playin'?"

"You'll see. It's a scary game, " James nodded, stoically.

"I don't know if I like scary games."

"You'll like this scary game."

"It's not the Ouija Board is it?" there was a slight tremble in Mike's voice.

"No, it's not the Ouija Board!"

"Dream Phone?"

"No!"

"M-Mr. Bucket?"

"No! Damn it!"

"Mr. Bucket, fuck it!"

"Yeah, " James chortled. "C'mon, and grab the drinks."

From the kitchen, they marched back downstairs into the basement. Beyond the posters of scary movies, The Twilight Zone show poster, and video game banners, they sat on the ground beside the box for Ghost Blitz. Mike picked it up.

"Is this motherfucker drunk?"

"Right, " James asked.

"He looks like he's blitzed."

"That's what I said."

The door suddenly came open, and another man in a Toronto Blue Jays cap stuck his nose in. "Heya' fellas', what do we got today?"

"Bad Luck Bootsy!" the two others exclaimed in unison.

"We, uh, playin' a little Candy Land?"

"No one's fuckin' playin' Candy Land, " Mike replied.

"We never get to play Candy Land, " Bootsy frowned.

"You remember what happened last time we played, " James asked.

"Not really, " Bootsy mused, tapping his finger to his pouting, bottom lip. "Was that the time you bit my dick off with a shark?"

"Just sit the fuck down, " James started. "Shut the fuck up, and play some fuckin' Ghost Blitz."

"Ghost Blitz?" Bootsy took the lid of the box. "Is he drunk?"

"He's not fuckin' drunk, " James yelled.

"Gee willickers, James, you don't hafta' bite my fuckin' head off...again."

"It wasn't just the head last time, " Mike snickered.

"No, it was my whole, damned dick!"

James lowered his head and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"So, how do we play this Ghost Blitz, " Mike asked.

Before James had a chance to answer, Bootsy shoved the ghost right up his asshole.

"That's not a butt plug, that's the ghost, " James reprimanded.

"Well, cheesers, cut a guy some slack, " Bootsy huffed and replaced the ghost with the rest of the pieces.

"Alright, " James began. "It's easy–"

"It says there's two ways to play, " Mike interrupted. "Ghost Blitz Grab and Ghost Blitz Shout."

"I'm getting to it, " James chuckled.

"I'm just wondering what the difference is, " Mike said.

"Me, too, " Bootsy added.

"I'm getting to it!" James barked. "Listen, both games are the same, but in Grab, you just grab the right piece."

"Which is the right piece?" Mike interjected.

"Is this the whole game, " Bootsy asked. "Candy Land has a board and everything."

"We're not playin' Candy Land, " the other two shouted.

"Damn it, you assholes, " James said. "Just listen; in Grab, you grab the right piece, either the piece on the card, or if the card doesn't show the right piece, you grab the piece that isn't shown, and the piece that isn't the color of a piece on the card. In Shout, it's the same, only you shout the piece you want, like, say, red chair!"

After a moment of arguing about the correct way to play the games, Bootsy readjusted his sitting position, and knocked over all the pieces with his shoe. "Bootsy, " they shouted.

While James set everything back up, Mike snuck a handful of cards from the deck into his pockets. Finally, they started the game. First, Bootsy drew a purple ghost sitting in a gray chair, and since none of those pieces were correct, James snatched the green bottle, replaced it, and kept the card. Then, Mike drew a card showing a gray ghost in a purple chair.

"What the fuck, it's just reversed, " he complained.

"I got it, " Bootsy shouted, and snatched the blue book.

"No, wait, " Mike snapped. "That's wrong!"

"How's it wrong?" Bootsy howled.

"That chair's blue, so you can't grab the blue book."

"No, " James mediated. "That chair's purple, so he got the right piece."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Mike lamented. "It looks blue to me."

"Look, just keep playing. It's my turn, " James said. He drew a white mouse leaning against a red book, so Mike went for the ghost piece. "See? Isn't it fun? Don't you guys like playing a game?"

Mike and Bootsy traded a tiresome look. "This game sucks, James, " Mike said.

"Yeah, " Bootsy agreed. "Let's play something else."

Frowning a monstrous glare, James's expression instilled fear in the hearts of the men surrounding the game. They looked from him to each other, their faces pallid, and slowly made to get up.

"No one leaves until the game is finished, " James admonished. "That's the rule. That's always been the rule...we can't leave a game unfinished...right, " he asked slowly, carefully.

"Uh, yeah, " Bootsy stammered. "Wha-whatever you say, James."

"Yeah, we don't want any trouble, " Mike agreed.

Chapter Two

It was a beautiful, two story house in Philly. Allen stood with his fists on his hips, taking in the sight of white walls, the oaks growing up on either side of the home, the green yard. He turned to look at his new bride, a petite blonde with a round ass.

"I think this is the one, Sharon, " he said.

Smiling, she looked back at him, her new husband; the horror writer. He was nerdy, but he was a good guy, and always upbeat and excitable.

"Let's wait for the realtor and get a look inside before we make a choice, " Sharon replied. "We just moved here, and I still need to find a job, plus we probably want to be close to a school...right?"

"Oh, yeah...right, but hey, don't worry about the job just yet; something will turn up, and my latest release is bringing in plenty."

"Well, hello, you two!" a cheery voice called. The newly weds turned around to see Gabby, their realtor. Having pulled up in her Prius, they hadn't heard her approach. The woman, an aging brunette with a plump figure, grinned. "Well, good morning, folks."

"Hey, great to see you, " they said to her.

"So, you found this place all right, " Gabby asked.

A gust of wind brought with it the fall of yellow, orange, and brown leaves. Gabby tugged at her blazer while Allen pushed his hair back.

"Wasn't too hard, " Sharon said. "Show us inside? This one's about to wet himself...."

"I just think it's neat, " Allen chuckled.

Gabby marched up to the door, unlocked it, and motioned them inside. The interior was spacious with soft carpeting. Stairs led up to the second floor. During the modest tour, Allen found himself instantly swarmed by childhood memories.

"I can remember playing games with friends, " he said. The two women looked at him. "This house, it...it just brings up great memories. I had this friend, who loved board games so much, he used to make up his own, and then forced us to play them, " he chuckled.

"You never told me that, " Sharon looked a bit shaken up, but then she smiled.

He smiled back, "Oh, yeah...well...you know, I, uh–"

"You didn't keep in touch with any of those guys?"

Allen furrowed his brow in wonder. He recalled flashes and images of young boys sitting on the hard, basement floor. They surrounded boxes of games, game pieces; he recalled the echoing clamor of dice striking the ground. Lost in the image, blurred faces passed him by.

"I said, you don't talk to them anymore, " she asked, again.

"Huh? Oh, no. I think something happened; someone moved away or something, and then there was high school, when I met you, so, you know, I was pretty much smitten by then."

"You two are so cute, " Gabby interrupted. "I think you'll really like it here. It's a great city, and this is a great neighborhood."

"I'm surprised this house is even for sale, " Sharon remarked.

"Truthfully, so am I, " Gabby said. "It's been on the market for, oh, almost twenty years."

"How come it's so hard to sell, " Sharon asked.

As the girls gabbed, Allen walked off to the kitchen. The women followed behind, but he was oblivious to their presence; something about the house had lulled him into a state of mental distress. He was unable to recall what did happen to his school chums.

"I can't even remember their names, " he whispered to himself.

"What's that, " Sharon touched his arm.

He looked back to her. "Nothing, " he said and took a breath, scrutinizing the room. "Everything looks good to me, " he mumbled.

"I think I like it, too, " she nodded.

"Well, if everything's to your liking, we can pull out the paperwork, " Gabby said.

She went to the counter next to the space where the fridge belonged. As she and Sharon milled over the documents, the image of a white fridge laden with goofy drawings accosted Allen. He chewed his thumbnail for a second. Then, Sharon chastised him. He pulled his finger from his mouth.

There were five of us, right? Wasn't there a girl? I remember two boys with hats. What were their names? An oppressive mood overtook him with the speed and ferocity of lightning.

"And this is a great time to buy, " Gabby said, but Allen was drifting in an out.

He walked from the kitchen-Sharon leering at his withdrawn behavior-and stopped by the stairs. He placed his hands on the railing, gripping the wood tightly. He then recalled images of a bedroom laden with video game posters, but it wasn't his room; he didn't have pictures of monster films like the room in his flashback.

"It was that boy's room, the one who made those board games...board games...."

"Allen, " Sharon yelled. "Come sign!"

"O-okay, honey, " he replied, jogging back into the kitchen.

Once everything was in order, they walked Gabby back out to her Prius. She thanked them, waved, and hugged Sharon before shaking Allen's hand. "I think you two will be very happy here."

"Yeah, me, too, " he said.

"What the Hell's wrong with you?" Sharon snipped as soon as the realtor drove out of sight.

"Yeah, I don't know, honey; I guess I have a lot on my mind."

"Well...we did just buy a house."

"Yeah, we did, didn't we, " he chuckled. "Wow, " he grinned, turning back to gaze at his new home, yet something was different.

The gusts of wind were colder, more leaves swirled about, and then he noticed the neighbor staring at them. She was a heavy set, scowling, old woman with gray, unkempt hair. She held her pink robe tightly to her figure, glaring at the newly weds.

The two waved at her, but she remained hard-looking, granite faced. "What's her problem, " Sharon asked.

"I don't know...let's get settled in."

"Yeah."

Chapter Three

"Let's play something else, " Mike said.

"Candy Land, " Bootsy asked, eagerly.

"No!" the others yelled in unison.

With Ghost Blitz stowed atop a plethora of other games, everyone started shuffling through boxes. There were numerous games in the basement; from wall-to-wall, they were stacked. Many of them were the classics; Monopoly, Connect Four, Hero's Quest, but there were some obscured ones as well.

Mike wanted to play Cross Fire, but Bootsy didn't want to twiddle his thumbs, waiting for a turn. James replied that he hadn't been invited to play anyway. Bootsy pouted, got up, and made for the door.

"Gee willickers, James, if ya' want me to leave, just say so."

"Can't leave, " James said, gravely. He wore another, monster frown, and he slowly shook his head from side-to-side; his stare unblinking. "Gotta' stay until the game's finished."

"But we ain't picked a game yet, " Bootsy complained, stomping his foot.

"It's all a game, bro, " Mike said. He patted Bootsy's shoulder when the young man sat back down. "You remember, don't you?"

"Well...if we're gonna' play somethin', " Bootsy mused. "How about another game with cards?"

He then picked up a box for Mystery Rummy, case number 3; Jekyll and Hide. It was a small, brown box with the picture of a magnifying lens over the words case number 3. Beneath the lens were two halves of a face; one half of Jekyll, and one half of Hide.

"No, " James shouted and knocked the box from his friend's hand. "I don't like Jekyll and Hide."

"Why, what's wrong with 'em?"

"He has eyeballs for testicles, " James answered.

"Yeah, " Mike agreed. "And he wears his underwear backwards."

As James nodded, Bootsy said, "So? I wear my underwear backwards!"

"What, " Mike was shocked.

"Why would you do that?" James yelled.

"I don't have to pull 'em off to take a shit that way, " Bootsy elucidated.

They all spent a moment ripping on each other about their weird habits. Mike was called a cheater, and when he denied it, Bootsy reached into Mike's back pocket and pulled out a handful of Ghost Blitz cards. In return, Mike pointed out that Bootsy sucked his own dick, to which Bootsy responded by reminding them he no longer had a dick because James was a psychopath.

"That's true, I guess, " Mike said. "No one else locks his friends in the basement and forces them to play made up games at knife point."

"I didn't do that, " James argued. "You guys always exaggerate! I just want to play a game. Don't you guys like playing games? What else would you be doing? Sucking your dick, " he asked Bootsy.

"Don't got one anymore!"

"And you, " James said to Mike.

"Let's just fuckin' play this Rummy game."

"Fine, " James acquiesced. He cracked open the box, which unfolded like a book. Inside the left cover was a picture of Robert Louis Stevenson, and the text explained how the writer had never been healthy, had gotten his start by writing Treasure Island, and then that he wrote The Curious Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hide. The other side of the box held a manual and two sets of cards. James started reading the manual. "Welcome to the world of Mystery Rummy games. This is the third game in the series. It goes on to explain the basic goal, which is to score one hundred points. You score points by melds of Evidence cards, and playing Gavel cards that have points."