Hey, what day is it? Sorry, I guess I”m kinda out of it. My head is aching. I suppose that’s what I get for throwing a party on a Thursday night. Why a Thursday night? Because Friday-night parties are for pussies.
So anyhow, like I was saying, I decided to have me a little get-together. Just me, some folks I met off the street and a bottle of Jack. Sure, I could’ve invited people I actually know. But it’s a lot more fun when you’re partying with strangers, am I right? Yeah, you know what I mean.
So anyhow, there we all were, sitting in my living room, passing ’round the ol’ bottle, trying to guess everyone’s names, when someone—I think his name was Mike—said, “Hey, I have an idea. Let’s play Truth or Dare.” And I was like, “Fuck that shit.” But then the girls said (did I mention the girls?) Truth or Dare sounded like fun. So, naturually, we ended up playing the stupid game.
Of course, we didn’t know each other’s names, so if we wanted to dare someone, we’d just point to that person and say, “You.” The game began when the girl with the curly hair—we’ll call her Curly—pointed to the chick wearing the polka dots (Dotty) and asked her, “Truth or Dare?” Dotty thought for a moment and then she said, “Dare!” So Curly looked around the room for a while and then she said, “I dare you to. . .eat a tomato!” And I was like, “What kind of fuckin’ dare is that?” And she said, “Tomatoes are gross.” And I was like, “No they aren’t. I eat tomatoes all the time.” Anyhow, the stupid bitch ate a tomato, and then it was her turn to pick someone.
So Dotty started to look around the room and she ended up picking that guy who I think is named Mike, and she said, “You! Truth or Dare?” And Mike, he thought for a while and then he finally said, “Dare.” So Dotty sat there thinking and finally she said, “I dare you to make out with . . . her!” And she pointed to one of the hottest cheerleaders in the room. (Did I mention all the girls were cheerleaders?) So I was like, “Hey, what the fuck? That’s no dare!” And Dotty said, “Sure it is. He’s gay.” And I was like, “Oh.” So Mike went up to the hot girl (Hotty) and he didn’t waste any time. He just put his lips against hers and started doing the tongue tango. But it wasn’t like they were only locking lips. He was all rubbing up against her and grabbing stuff. And all this time, I was thinking to myself, Man, I hope I get a dare like that.
So, yeah, that kind of shit went on for a few hours. Someone would pick someone, they’d take the dare and then they’d have to do something really easy, like say, drink a glass of water while reciting “I slit the sheet, the sheet I slit, and on the slitted sheet I sit.” Oddly enough, nobody was picking me. It was like I was watching a movie or something—a really fucked up movie.
But then, all of the sudden, after Mike had finished making out with another cheerleader, his eyes locked right on mine and he said, “You! Truth or Dare?” Fuck, so much for being a spectator. But then I thought, What did care if these people found out my deepest, darkest secrets? They didn’t know me. After the night was through, they’d leave and I’d probably never see them again. So I looked right at Mike and I smirked and I said, “Dare.” Shit. Why’d I say that?
And then, for what seemed like an hour (it was actually only 58 minutes), Mike’s eyes stayed locked on mine. Finally, he grinned and said, “What kind of stove you got?”
“Excuse me?” I said.
“I said,” he said, “What kind of stove you got?”
“I don’t know. I think it’s a General Electric.”
“No, you fuckin’ moron! I mean is it electric or gas?”
“Electric. Why?”
“I dare you to turn on the burner to the highest setting and then leave your hand on it for 30 seconds.”
“While it’s heating up?”
“No, after it’s heated all the way up. When it’s glowing.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? I’m not doing that!”
“You have to. That’s the game.”
“Can’t I just eat a tomato or choke on water?”
“No. You have to do what I say.”
“Fuck.”
So, not wanting to be a sore loser, I walked over and turned on the burner to my stove. As I waited for the coils to start glowing, everyone began crowding around me. The girls watched, giggling nervously. And all that time, all I could think about was how I was going to get myself out of this one. There I was, surrounded by strangers, waiting for the moment when i would scar my hand forever. Fortunately, before I even placed my hand over the burner, I came to my senses. I turned the burner off and walked away.
Mike grabbed my arm. “Hey, what the fuck?”
“I’m not doing that shit, man. It’s not fair.”
“Dude, those are the rules.”
“I know. But it’s not right.”
“Hey, did you see that chick complain when she had to eat a fuckin’ tomato?”
“No.”
“And what about me when I had to make out with all of these chicks?”
“No, but I wouldn’t either.”
“That’s because you’re not fuckin’ gay, man. I’m a total fag.”
“I don’t think gay people use that term like that.”
“How the fuck do you know? You’re not fuckin’ gay.”
“Look, I’m not going to burn my hand for a bunch of strangers.”
“Fine, I’ll give you another dare.”
So then Mike looked around the kitchen. He pulled open the drawers, he searched through the cupboards, and he finally pulled out a large skillet pan.
“What am I supposed to do with that,” I asked, “make you breakfast?”
“No. You have to take this and bash yourself in the face with it until you pass out.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Dude, that’s the dare.”
“You gotta be kidding me. This game sucks. I’m not doing that. Besides, it’s impossible. After I hit myself with the pan a few times, I’ll be too weak to give myself the final blow.”
“Yeah, you’re right. . . OK, I’ll do the bashing then.”
“No way. You’ll kill me.”
“Alright,” Mike said, “then . . . you’ll have to make out with me.”
So I handed Mike the pan and closed my eyes real tight. “OK, just hit me and get it over with. All I ask is that you give me some kind of warning before you—
CRACK!
That’s all I remember. That sound: CRACK! Only I didn’t hear it with my ears. It was inside my head. Something broke in there. Something important.
I woke up the next morning with the feeling of cold linoleum pressing against my cheek. And then I felt an incredible, pulsating pain in the back of my head. Normally, I’d want to reach back there to feel what was wrong. But I was too afraid my hand would come back with blood on it—or brain. I slid my way across the floor and carefully pulled myself to my feet. My head was in such a fog that it seemed like I was in someone else’s home. I mean, it sort of looked like my place, only my bookcase wasn’t there. Or my table. Or my couch. Or my TV. Yeah, Mike and the cheerleaders had robbed me blind and left me for dead. Needless to say, I learned my lesson. You won’t catch me inviting strangers into my home anymore. No, from now on, I’m asking for names.
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