The Classic Misadventures in Gaming #9

By Dan Bosley
July 12, 2006 (Originally Posted on February 19, 2003)

Editor’s Note: For those of you just tuning in, check out the first and second parts of this story in The Classic Misadventures in Gaming #7 and The Classic Misadventures in Gaming #8.

The drink that Ellen has thrown in my face is now dripping down my chin and onto my shirt. Rye and Seven, I think. Ellen is standing right there in front of me, with her eyes wide open and glaring at me. She is looking rather kind of scary. The now-empty glass is clenched tightly within one of her hands.

“Whoa!� I exclaim. “You silly person!� I tell Ellen. (Note: language has been slightly modified to preserve the Misadventures’ keen sense of decorum. Feel free to guess what I really said.)

Ellen’s eyes are about ready to pop out of her head. The veins in her neck are threatening to turn her into a green female Hulk.

Everyone else in the room is still shocked and for a moment, all is quiet - but then a hubbub of sound erupts. There’s a bit of embarrassed laughter, and then a murmuring undercurrent of whispered conversation throughout the room - “Did you see that? Holy cow! Did you see what she did? He’s all wet! Boy, is she mad! Wow, I’ve never seen anything like that! Hey, what happened? - I just walked in. This would have been great to capture on videotape - maybe if we get the camera, she’ll do it again. That’s awful, what a waste of liquor. I always knew she was on the edge. Why is there frost in his hair? Boy, he sure made her angry! Did somebody here order a pizza?�

Mary hurries over to Ellen, while Diane hurries over to me. My face feels kind of sticky, and my glasses are all wet. The front of my shirt is soaked, too. It’s interesting just how wet one can get from a relatively small quantity of liquid....

“Ellen,� says Mary. “Come and sit down. You’re too upset. Come on over here and have a seat in the kitchen. I don’t think you should play Werewolf. I don’t think that would be a very good idea,� Mary states. But Ellen is resisting Mary’s attempts to move her. Ellen has her feet planted firmly on the ground, and she is not going anywhere. She is a statue connected with the floor, and no one is moving her anywhere.

Diane, meanwhile, is looking at me, wide-eyed with concern. “Are you O.K, dear?� she asks me. “Someone get me a towel.�

I look at Ellen. Ellen looks at me. Very slowly, a grin is forming on my face. Likewise, a grin begins to form on Ellen’s face. Everyone else is looking at us with puzzlement on their faces. Why are we grinning?

And then Ellen and I burst into laughter. We laugh and we laugh and we laugh. Then we laugh and we laugh and we laugh some more. Some of the other people in the room laugh too, although I’m not too sure if at that moment they particularly know WHY they’re laughing. More than likely, they are laughing because WE are laughing, and they don’t really know what else they should be doing instead.

Let’s go back in time to about a week or so before this party, to Diane’s school’s staffroom at lunch time.

Diane is sitting there at the big long table, munching on her sandwich, when Ellen comes into the staffroom, looking a little upset.

“Guess what, everyone,� she says to all within hearing. “The guy who was supposed to play Santa Claus for my Kindergarten glass on Friday called, and told me he can’t do it. It’s so sad. I really don’t want to disappoint the children. They are SO looking forward to a visit from Santa at school.�

“Ah, that’s too bad,� and some other rather bland commiserations erupt from a few of the teachers in the staffroom at this point.

“Anyhow,� says Ellen. “Does anyone here know anyone who could play Santa Claus on short notice? We have the complete Santa suit. All we need is someone to play Santa.�

“Dan would probably do it,� volunteers Diane. “He’s played Santa before at our family Christmas get-togethers. And he’s his own boss, so it shouldn’t be too hard for him to get time off from his employer.�

“That’s wonderful,� says Ellen. “Can you call him?�

“Sure,� says Diane.

And she calls me.

So, a couple of days later, I’m dressed up in the Santa suit at Diane’s school. I have my VISITOR tag clipped to my belly - the school has some very strict regulations about which adults can come and go in the school. If you’re not a teacher, you better have a VISITOR pass with you, or OUT YOU GO! And I certainly didn’t want that. It might be kind of traumatizing for the kids to see Santa booted out the front door by the Principal.

Anyhow, just before the kids come into the classroom (it’s recess), I’m in Ellen’s class, waiting for the little varmints. I’m also sweating like crazy. Santa’s beard traps all my exhalations, and my face is HOT. And I haven’t even started yet.

“So,� Ellen says, “Thank you so much for playing Santa. Diane tells me that you’ve played Santa before.�

“Yes, yes, I have. I’m at Stage 3 now.� I tell her.

“Stage 3? What do you mean, Stage 3?� Ellen inquires.

“You know,� I tell her. “The 4 stages of life according to Santa.�

Ellen shakes her head negatively. “I don’t know that,� she says.

“Oh, sure you do,� I tell her. “The 1st stage is: You believe in Santa. The 2nd stage is: You don’t believe in Santa. The 3rd stage is: You play Santa. That’s the stage I’m in now. I’m playing Santa. I’m in the 3rd stage.�

“And what’s the 4th stage?� she asks.

“You begin to look like Santa,� I tell her.

She looks at me with an arched eyebrow.

“That’s the next stage I’ll be working on,� I inform her.

The bell rings, and the little monsters enter.

Two hours later, a sweat-drenched me exits the teacher’s washrooms, back in my civvies. I stagger into the staffroom. It’s almost lunch time. No one else is here yet.

I had a great time playing Santa, but I’m actually pretty exhausted. Ellen comes in. “That was great, Dan. The kids loved you. You were fantastic.� Ellen goes on like this for a bit, causing my modesty meter to kick in overtime.

Then Ellen says, “Dan, Diane told me you do a fair bit of acting. She said you often perform in professional Murder Mystery Nights, and people have to solve the mysteries. Those sound like a lot of fun. I’ve often thought we should play some sort of game like that at our Christmas Staff party. I think it would liven things up a bit. Hey, say, would you be willing to organize a Murder Mystery game for our Staff Party?�

“Isn’t that just a few days from now?� I ask her.

“Yes,� she replies.

“No, that’s too short of notice.� I tell her.

“That’s too bad,� Ellen answers. “I bet it would have been fun to do a Murder Mystery game.�

“It would have. It would have. Maybe next time. But.....you know.....there IS something a little bit simpler we could try instead,� I suggest to Ellen.

“What’s that?� she asks.

“One of the gimmicks we use from time to time in our Murder Mystery Game Night evenings is to have one character throw a drink into another character’s face.�

“Like in the movies?� she inquires.

“Yeah. Yeah. Like in the movies. Everybody’s seen one of those scenes in the movies, but it’s pretty rare to see it in real life. And it always gets a great reaction, especially if the people seeing it believe it’s the real thing.� I explain.

“What are you suggesting?� asks Ellen.

“How about, if at some point during the evening at the Christmas party, we get into some sort of argument? You get mad at me, and when the time is right, you throw your drink into my face.�

Ellen laughs. “For real? You want me to throw a drink into your face for real?�

“Yes. Trust me, it won’t hurt. It’s only liquid. Just make sure you’re not drinking hot coffee.�

“But what should we argue about? We really hardly know each other. What could we argue about that would make me mad enough to throw a drink in your face?� Ellen asks inquisitively.

“I don’t know. It doesn’t really matter. It doesn’t really have to be logical or anything. We’ll play it by ear. We’ll do it sometime in the middle of the evening, I would think. When an opportunity presents itself, just ad lib. We’ll just bounce sentences back and forth off each other. You follow my lead, and I’ll follow your lead. People will believe it. They won’t have any reason to suspect anything. They’ll get caught up in it, and when you DO throw the drink in my face, they’ll all be shocked. And afterwards, we’ll all get a good laugh.�

“O.K.,� Ellen agrees excitedly. “Let’s do it!�

And we did.

So after explaining to the group in the living room how we set them all up with the drink in the face trick, I then complete the explanation for how to play the game of Werewolf. I mix up the cards, and deal one card to each player.

“Remember,� I tell them all. “If you get Tigger, you are a Werewolf. If you get Winnie the Pooh, you are the Seer. And if you get any other A. A. Milne character, you’re just Joe Average Villager.�

I, of course, am the Moderator.

“Everyone close their eyes,� I order them. They do so.

“Werewolves only, open your eyes.�

The two werewolves lift their heads and scan the room until they see who each other is.

“Werewolves, agree on a victim, and then silently point him or her out to me,� I tell them.

Bill, Master Foosballer, is playing the game. By the time the commotion caused by the drink incident died down, he had finished his 2nd Foosball game, and had joined the crowd in the living room. So Bill is now playing Werewolf with the rest of us.

The two werewolves both quietly point at Bill. Bill will be the first victim.

“Werewolves, close your eyes.� They do so.

“Seer only, open your eyes.�

The seer opens her eyes and looks at me.

“Seer, point to someone. I will then indicate to you if that individual is a werewolf with a thumbs-up signal. If they are just a villager, I will give you the thumbs-down signal.�

The Seer points at Ellen. Yes, Ellen IS indeed playing the game of Werewolf. All that mish-mash stuff she said earlier was just an excuse to throw a drink in my face. And believe it or not, Ellen is one of the two Werewolves. I give the Seer the thumbs-up signal. The Seer raises her eyebrows in surprise.

“Seer, close your eyes.� I pause a moment. Then - “all players open your eyes.� Everyone does except Len, who has apparently decided to take his yawning skills to the next level. Len is now working at trying to actually sleep in the middle of the party. His eyes are still closed.

“Ah, Len?� I nudge him. “Len? Len? Open your eyes, Len.� He lets out a snore. His eyes remain closed. He is fast asleep. I shake my head and walk back into the centre of the room.

“Alright, the werewolves have chosen a victim. And their victim was - “ I pause again, for dramatic effect. “BILL,� I exclaim, pointing at him. “Bill, you were attacked last night by werewolves. You are no more for this world.�

“Me? They picked me? But why? Why would they pick me? What did I do? Why didn’t they pick Len? They should have picked him. He’s out of it already.� Bill is not overjoyed about being out of the game only moments after it has gotten underway.

“Sorry, Bill. Somebody has to be the first victim. Look at it this way. They probably thought you were the biggest threat, and that’s why they wanted to eliminate you first,� I propose.

“Well, I don’t know how anyone could see me as a threat. I’ve never played this game before.�

“Them’s the breaks, Bill,� I tell him.

“Good thing we didn’t bet on who would be first out,� says Bill, but with a smile on his face.

The game continues. The Seer is the 2nd one to go, after telling everyone that she is the Seer, and that Ellen is one of the werewolves. But everyone apparently thinks SHE is a werewolf, and is just pretending to be a Seer. So Ellen is safe, at least this time. And moments later, the werewolves put the Seer out of her misery.

There is then a close call right after that to lynch Ellen, but somehow she survives it, and Ellen and the other werewolf continue to attack the remaining villagers at night.

Finally we’re down to 5 players left. Ellen, Diane, Mary, Susan, and Lewis, the sole remaining male player. Both werewolves are still left, of whom Ellen is one of them. And there are 3 villagers. The villagers now have to lynch someone. If the villagers guess wrong, and lynch one of their own, then the werewolves will have won the game - since there would then be 2 werewolves and 2 villagers left, and night would be falling.

So - the villagers HAVE to correctly lynch a werewolf, or the game will end and they will lose.

Diane says, “I still think Ellen is a werewolf. I’ve thought so for awhile.�

Ellen says, “It’s not my eyebrows, is it, Diane?�

Lewis says, “Well, one thing I know for sure, I’m not a werewolf.�

Mary speaks up. “You know, Susan has been pretty quiet the whole game. Just sort of blending in with the wallpaper. Keeping a low profile. That’s pretty suspicious in itself, if you ask me.�

Susan defends herself. “I’m not overly quiet. I just don’t see a need to repeat points when other people have already brought them up.�

Lewis says, “I think Susan is a werewolf too.�

Susan replies, “Oh no, Lewis. If anyone’s a werewolf, it’s you. I’ve heard you moving about whenever the werewolves were choosing a victim.�

“Then you’re hearing things,� Lewis says. “You know what I think? I think Ellen and Mary are the werewolves. See! See! Look at them smiling. Guilty!�

Ellen says, “Of course I’m smiling, Lewis. That is just so preposterous. If you had been paying attention, you would know that Diane and Susan are the werewolves.�

“I am not!� exclaims Diane.

“I am not!� exclaims Susan.

“See?� says Ellen. “Listen to their denials. They certainly sound phony to me. A bit too vehement, I think.�

“What do you want?� cries Susan. “I’m not a werewolf. Lewis is the one who’s a werewolf. I’ve heard him moving. His joints creak or something. He squeaks.�

“Squeaks! I squeak! Now that is far-fetched! You are grasping at straws, woman.� rebutts Lewis.

“Woman? See, he called me a woman, not a werewolf,� says Susan.

“I think the werewolves are Ellen and Lewis,� says Diane. “Ellen seems a bit too smug to me, and I’ve heard Lewis creaking too. Let’s vote for them.�

“You can only vote ONE person off, not two,� I remind them.

“I say we vote for Lewis,� says Susan.

“Me too,� says Diane.

“I’ll vote for Lewis, too,� says Mary.

“Well, that’s a majority vote right there, Lewis,� I tell him.

“Wait!� he says. “Wait a minute. Give me a chance.� Lewis pleads.

“What?� I ask him.

He addresses the crowd in the living room, as well as the 4 remaining players. The crowd is predominantly female. “Would you all agree that if I was a werewolf, I would be somewhat hairy?�

“Lewis, are you playing the bald card again?� asks Bill from the audience.

“I know I’m bald. But I’m talking about body hair,� says Lewis.

Oh-oh, a little precognition nags at me. Just how much has Lewis had to drink?

“We’re voting you off, Lewis,� Susan tells him.

“Wait, wait,� he says. “If I prove I’m not hairy like a werewolf, will you vote Ellen off instead?� Lewis offers.

“How are you going to prove it?� asks Mary.

“Like this,� says Lewis. And he starts to unbutton his shirt.

A tittering goes through the mostly female teachers in the living room. Fortunately for Len, he is spared this sight, as he is sound asleep.

“Ah, Lewis -� I start to say, but he waves me to silence.

Lewis finishes unbuttoning his shirt, and takes it off with a flourish. He is now standing there bare-chested. And he is pretty hairless on his chest, he didn’t lie about that. There is much chuckling and laughing going on now.

“That’s not good enough, Lewis,� Susan tells him.

“O.K.,� he says, and starts to undo his belt.

“Ellen,� I say to her. “Throw your drink in his face. Hurry!� I tell her.

“No,� she responds. “I want to see this.�

Lewis has undone his belt now, and now is working on his pants.

Well, I must say, this game of Werewolf is certainly going places where no game of Werewolf has gone before.

With a wiggle, Lewis takes off his pants. He is now standing there in just his boxer shorts and socks. All the women in the living room are clapping and laughing and hooting and giggling and having a jolly old time. I am seriously thinking of playing Klondike with the remainder of the Winnie the Pooh deck RIGHT NOW, because I have a darn good idea where this is going to end up, and it ain’t gonna be pretty....

A couple of the women are now wolf-whistling at Lewis. I guess that’s appropriate, given the game that we are playing.

“Prove it, Lewis, prove it, Lewis, prove it, Lewis� the women start chanting. “Prove it, :Lewis, prove it, Lewis, prove it, Lewis!�

Lewis is obviously enjoying the attention he is getting. He has a BIG smile on his face. Lewis bows to his audience, turns around, bends over, pauses for a brief moment - and then whips down his boxer shorts.

The game is over. The werewolves have won and the villagers have lost. And what villagers there were, have now been turned into werewolves as well. How else to explain all the howling at the full moon?.........

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