James Russo

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!"