Grand Theft Planetary & Other Stories

“Tonight,” said Bud, slamming the door of their small 3rd floor apartment, “we are going to play dare.”

Rufus stretched lazily on their stained Ikea sofa, his matted dreadlocks flopping over the arm rest. “We’re going to play dare? Like small schoolchildren? We’re mature adults, Bud!” He rolled to his side and broke wind loudly. They both laughed.

“True, but remember what we were talking about last night?” Bud got two beers out of their fridge and threw one to his friend. “Three weeks until payday and, thanks to last weekend’s ill-considered purchase –“

Rufus glanced worryingly at the large plastic butter tub on the mantelpiece, heavily mummified in several different kinds of masking tape. “Careful - we agreed not to speak about the purchase!”

“Very well,” sighed Bud. “Thanks to a recent event involving, uh, something that must never be mentioned, we are both completely broke. However, the house is full of drink and we want to get blinding drunk.” He took a big swig of beer and pulled the tie from his neck. “Like I said - we should play dare tonight.”

“No can do,” replied Rufus, “I’m going round Sarah’s tonight. I may be broke, but I can still get laid. The best things in life are free, after all.” He opened the beer with his teeth and spat the cap into their open-plan kitchen. It missed the overflowing bin, bounced off the dented plasterboard wall and settled amongst the other bottle caps on the linoleum floor. “Sex is free.”

“Sex isn’t free,” said Bud. “Condoms cost money.”

“Ah,” said Rufus with a smile, “But I don’t use... normal contraception.”

“Explain.”

“You know my lucky red pen? The one I take with me when I know I’m going to get laid? The reason I take it with me is to... simulate... protection.”

Bud looked confused. “I don’t get it.”

Rufus pointed to his crotch. “I draw a thin red line around the base to look like I’m wearing one. Anyway, what is the point of playing dare?” He downed his beer in one, burped loudly, then chucked the bottle out of their balcony window.

“This isn’t ordinary dare, my friend. This is drinking dare, and it ruins lives!” There was a smash from outside, then a gurgling scream. “Much like that bottle just did.”

Rufus’s interest perked up. “Ruin lives? You mean our lives, or other people?”

“Both. Remember Mad Mack? The old man who came out for my birthday night out?” Bud looked expectantly at Rufus, who shrugged his shoulders. “He ate his own coat because he didn’t want to carry it around for the rest of the night?”

“Ah yes, I remember,” smiled Rufus. “I’ve never seen someone barf up a handful of buttons before.”

“That’s the man. He told me the rules of this forbidden game that he used to play in his younger days. Legend has it that Zeus told it to Moses as a weapon against alien shape shifters.” Bud’s face was deadpan. “Mad Mack doesn’t play drinking dare anymore because he… ran out of friends to play against.” There was an ominous rumble of thunder from outside.

“Forbidden game, huh?” Rufus stroked an imaginary beard for a few seconds, then took out his mobile phone and dialled a number. “Hi Sarah. Sorry, I can’t see you tonight. Bud’s been…” he struggled for a few painful seconds, “…killed by a car? Or something. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He hung up and looked pleased with himself. “I am the master of excuses. So come on Bud! Let’s ruin our lives!”

By eight o’ clock, the bottle caps had been swept away, the bin emptied, and the disgusting sofa pushed out of sight. A large round table had been brought out of the utility cupboard and a green baize cloth thrown over it to hide the coffee-ringed surface. A pad of paper, two pens and a pack of dog-eared cards sat between the pair of housemates. They were each flanked by a huge selection of alcohol, enough to make an off-licence ashamed of itself.

“Splendid,” said Rufus. “So what do we do now?”

Bud poured himself a measure of whiskey and adjusted his drinking hat, a large inflatable Stetson that was originally part of a fancy dress costume. Rufus’s own headpiece, a huge stuffed moose’s head nicknamed Sergeant Scary, threatened to knock the table over with every movement thanks to its obscenely huge antlers. “Here’s how to play Drinking Dare,” began Bud. “We each write down a dare,” he made quotation marks in the air, “and chuck them into the middle of the table. We play poker, and the loser has to do one of the dares.”

Rufus raised an eyebrow. “That’s it? That’s the scary game? What a load of bollocks!” He took off the moose’s head. “This is childish. Me and Sergeant Scary are going home.”

“You are home, idiot. Sit down, put the Sergeant back on and write a dare on the paper.”

Reluctantly, Rufus obeyed and picked up one of the pens. “What kind of dare do I write? Kiss a man? Do a fart? Wear a bra?”

“The aim is to try and ruin the other person. Be creative.” They spent a moment thinking juvenile thoughts, then wrote down their dares and tossed them into the middle of the table. Bud dealt out the cards; Rufus swapped three and Bud took one.

“What have you got?” asked Bud.

“Two sevens.”

“I have four kings,” smiled Bud. “I win.”

“Balls.” Rufus threw his cards in resignation. “So what happens now? I have to do your dare?”

Bud examined the contents of the slips. “Well, I could make you do your own dare – to lick the inside of our oven,” Bud flapped Rufus’ slip in the air, then chucked it over his shoulder. “Or, I could make you do my dare. Text your girl friend that you pretend to wear condoms.”

Rufus’s face turned to horror. “I can’t do that!”

“You can, and will. Why should she care even anyway?” Bud said. “It’s not like you have any sperm left, thanks to your years of drinking and smoking. Or maybe you have a secret to hide? A secret of the itchy variety, down there?”

Rufus threw a bottle cap at the grinning Bud. “I am not going to tell my girlfriend of three months that I’ve been inking-up instead of bagging-up. She’ll dump me, no doubt. I won’t do the dare.”

“I thought you might resist,” replied Bud. “That’s why I took the liberty of hacking your online social accounts before we started.”

“What?!” Rufus stood up so suddenly that Sergeant Scary hit the ceiling, bringing down several chunks of white plaster and a piece of tinsel from the previous Christmas. “My online accounts are everything to me!”

“I know,” Rufus replied, raising his little finger to the side of his mouth. “Play by the rules and I shall give you the passwords. But if you don’t co-operate, I will kill you! Electronically.”

Rufus stared at Bud with hatred, and then reluctantly fished his phone out of his pocket. “Just remember that the door swings both ways,” he grumbled as he typed. “I’ll show no mercy tonight. No mercy whatsoever.” The phone bleeped as the message was sent.

“Fine,” replied Bud, lighting up a fat cigar. “I’m like the Roadrunner my friend. You can’t take me down.”

Rufus grabbed another piece of paper. “We’ll see about that.”

With a new set of dares in the middle and an atmosphere of aggression in the room, Rufus dealt out the cards and they played another hand of poker. Hands trembling slightly, Rufus whispered, “What have you got?”

Bud breathed a plume of smoke lazily into the air. “Four aces.”

Rufus showed his hand; three Queens. The Sergeant swung around and caught a beercan with its antlers, showering the entire room in frothy suds. “I guess you win?”

“I guess I do.” Bud grabbed the dares and read them silently. “Interesting! The dare I wrote was to scream out of the window for 5 minutes. However, I prefer your dare – to run naked into the Red Dragon.” They both looked out at the brightly-lit pub below their flat. “It doesn’t look too busy tonight,” smiled Bud. “You’ll be fine. Remember to take your red pen, just in case you get lucky!”

Rufus’s phone chimed; new message. “Great,” he said after a glance, “I am now officially single. Cheers Bud.”

“Hey – don’t hate the players, hate the game.”

“I hate you, Drinking Dare.” They both raised their glasses. “And,” Rufus continued, “I am not going down the pub completely naked. Forget it.”

15 minutes later, they both burst through the front door and hurried into the living room. Rufus was covering his privates with two large beer-mats, but was otherwise completely naked. “I am absolutely freezing,” shivered Rufus, “And very embarrassed.”

“How was I supposed to know they were having a wake in the pub tonight?” replied Bud. They heard sirens, and watched a pair of blue lights settle in front of the pub. “Did you see that woman faint when you jumped on the bar and started to do the can-can?”

“I was trying not to fall over.” Rufus hurried his clothes back on and re-seated the Sergeant on his head. “Dancing is very challenging for me, especially when I have something so big and heavy swinging between my legs.”

Bud rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Next game?” They both scribbled another dare onto paper, and dished out the cards. “Tell me,” said Bud, refilling his glass within a haze of smoke, “When was the last time you played poker?”

“Um, I think the last time was... never.”

“You’ve never played poker before?” Bud said in disbelief.

“No.”

“In that case, do you actually know the rules?” Bud asked, smiling slightly.

“Not really,” Rufus lit a cigarette, “I just follow your lead.”

“Fantastic!” Bud turned his cards over. “In that case, check it out – a five-card... Crippler. Beat that!”

Rufus examined the cards suspiciously, and then gasped. “Oh yeah – a five card crippler! Damn!” His shoulders slumped. “Go on then, what’s my dare?”

Bud didn’t even open the dares. “Text your girlfriend – well, ex-girlfriend – that you have an STD, and that she needs to get tested because you were pretending to wear condoms.”

“Now that’s the last straw.” Rufus took off Sergeant Scary and staggered to his feet. “I’m not doing that.”

“Oh, OK.” Bud pulled out his laptop and booted it up.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m deleting your online accounts. Shame, really. All those photos and videos on your social profiles, irreplaceable no doubt.” Bud’s hands hovered over the keyboard. “Or would you rather do the dare?”

There was a silence as Rufus mulled this over, then finally sat back down. “Fine, fine. Me and Sarah are finished anyway, thanks to this bloody game.”

Bud lit up a huge cigar, and puffed contentedly. “Epic! Another game?”

“Yes!” Rufus dealt the cards with some effort. “God I feel wrecked.”

They didn’t bother writing any dares down; they exchanged cards, then showed their hands. To Bud’s total amazement, his friend had 4 Jacks. “Is that good?” Rufus asked.

“Umm…” Bud fought with his conscience for a moment, his evil side winning quickly and easily. “No – they’re worthless.” Bud put down a pair of twos. “I win, sucka!”

“For God’s sake!”

Bud smiled, then said “Go streak in the pub again.”

“No, please no.” Rufus stood and looked out at the pub. “The police are still there!”

“They are?” Bud said with mock surprise, “I never realised that. Sorry!”

“No way. Nope, no chance. I don’t value my online accounts that much.”

“Sure?” Bud dragged his laptop out again. “That blond you’re talking to on onlinedatingwitheasychicks.com looks super hot!”

“Ah – potential sex with random blonds.” Rufus starting undressing. “My one weakness.”

Bud and Rufus’s compact and modern flat offered a commanding view of the small-but-prosperous riverside community, nestled deep within the confines of a narrow valley. Whatever the year or weather, the neighbourhood was usually peaceful - but not tonight. On the narrow balcony, Bud took another drag on his cigar and counted the number of police lights flashing in the darkness. Below, some drunk mourners had vacated the safety of the pub and were shouting loudly at everyone and everything in sight, clearly upset by the reappearance of “Streaker Rufus”. From his overhead vantage point, Bud considered throwing a glass at them just to keep things interesting.

The front door opened and Rufus crept in. “What’s it looking like out there?” he whispered as he got dressed again.

“Complete panic. You fooled the police helicopter by pretending to jump into the river, but how did you manage to escape the two policemen on foot?”

“A couple was having sex behind the bins,” Rufus replied, “and the policemen stopped to watch.”

Bud flicked his cigar off the balcony and shut the doors, muting the commotion outside. “Mazeltov!”

Rufus’s phone beeped as he balanced the moose back on his head. “Oh no. Sarah’s coming round with some friends. ”

“Shall I get your red pen?” Bud asked.

“No Bud. Definitely not a red pen moment. She’s less-than-pleased about the whole fake condoms and STD revelation, so she’s bringing some of her tough manly friends round here to do me in.”

Bud winked. “I never knew you were into that.”

“Will you stop with the sex jokes? They are coming round to kill me!” He downed a shot of vodka. “What do I do?”

Bud scratched his nose. “As far as I can see, you have two choices. One, I call Sarah and tell her that it was me playing a joke on your phone.”

“Hey – yeah! That’ll work!” He relaxed visibly. “Thank you so much! You are such a good friend!” He offered Bud his phone.

“Don’t celebrate yet,” continued Bud, “The dares you’ve performed tonight are my prizes for winning our poker games, and so I’d be losing my winnings by pretending to Sarah that it was all a massive joke. So in return for this loss of earnings, I’d be willing to accept the deletion of your online accounts instead.” Bud casually flipped a coin, gangster-like. “The disruption from your online death would be on-par with the chaos caused by the dares. That seems fair.”

“Umm…” Rufus’s drunken mind struggled. “What’s the second choice?”

“The second choice is to simply open the door to Sarah’s friends when they get here, and accept the beating.”

“I see. Either sacrifice my online life, or my physical one.” Rufus mulled it over for a couple of minutes, and then finally sighed in defeat. “There’s really no choice, is there?”

“How are you holding up, mate?” Bud patted his friend’s hand as the ambulance lurched over some speed bumps. “You awake?”

“I think so.” Rufus raised his arm but the paramedic stopped him.

“I wouldn’t recommend touching your face,” she said as she monitored Rufus’s vital signs, “until we remove the larger pieces of antler.”

“What?” Rufus tried to sit up. “Is Sergeant Scary OK?”

“That’s not important,” replied Bud as he tried to ignore the numerous bits of moose sticking out of Rufus’ head. “You just relax. You took that beating like a man, and I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks mate.”

“And I’m sure,” Bud continued, covering his nose, “fouling yourself as they broke down the door was a brilliant offensive tactic.”

“Sure smells offensive,” muttered the paramedic as she put on a surgical respirator, her eyes watering visibly.

Bud gave up hiding from the stench and lit up a cigarette. “It’s to cover the smell,” he explained to the medic, who nodded in appreciation.

“Bud?” said Rufus weakly.

Rufus jammed his cigarette into a convenient antler. “What is it, my friend?”

“That was the best game of dare ever.”

There was a squeal from the heart monitor and Rufus’ head lolled to one side. The paramedic ripped a set of defibrillator paddles from the wall and started to charge them.

“I thought so too,” smiled Bud.