“SCENARIO SELECTED: IN THE PUB-LIC EYE”
Peter raised a thick eyebrow. “Hm. Sounds better than the one with ‘minimum-wage’ in its name.”
“Aw, I wanted to see the ‘Offices and Bosses’ one,” pouted Judy. “Sounds like DnD, but, um, workplace-related.”
Eugene looked up from the bendy keyboard. “You’ve, uh, p-played before?”
“Uh, no,” Judy confessed with a sheepish smile. “Listened to a few podcasts about it, though.”
“I think the choice is pretty neat, Genie! effused Lindsey. “Sounds like we’ll be total celebrities, I think.”
“DIBS ON THE PRO ATHLETE.” Peter practically shouted, his sudden movements jolting Judy’s head into the sharp edges of her otherwise comfortable shoulder headrest.
“Owwww,” whined Judy, delegating an off-hand to bap at her suddenly contrite boyfriend. “Just for that, I hope there’s no—”
A harsh grinding noise interrupted Judy’s curse, and any other conversation the group might have wanted to have. It sounded rather like a thick iron girder being bent and sawed at the same time.
Thankfully, the noise stopped after fifteen seconds, a small hatch opening on the board with a toaster-oven ‘ding’! A small squad of multicolored plastic pieces were contained in the small alcove.
The whole group stood up from their comfy seats, each grabbing a piece to investigate.
“Ooh, I’m guessing this is ‘model’,” mused Lindsey, holding up a plastic pair of blue pants. “I would have, like, used something other than pants to rep it, though.”
“Hey, my friends always said I could be an actor,” said Judy, trying to imitate the plastic comedy-mask’s smile. “I could be a punk Kat Dennings.”
“I d-don’t think ‘Gamer’ is really something that’s in the public eye,” murmured Eugene, looking down his nose at the purple game controller. “Maybe it’s an e-sports piece?”
Peter frowned at the top-hat and wand he was left holding. “Jude, there’s no way you didn’t actually jinx me. How is there a magician, but no football player?!”
“I unleashed all of my spoooooky Wiccan power,” cooed Judy in her best sough-voice, adding in a spooky wiggle of the fingers. “Don’t sulk, though, hon: there’s some kinda je ne sexy quois about warlocks.”
“Oh, you’re a Wiccan, Ju-ju?” effused Lindsey, her blue eye widening. “I have a friend with a coven — they make these awesome potions, and —”
“Uh, it was a joke, Lindz, sorry,” confessed the goth, sheepish smile on her face. “I’d love to go sometimes, though, after the whole pandemic thing is less of a Big Thing.”
“So,” Eugene began with a quavering voice and a small cough, trying to bring attention back to the game at hand. “Are we, uh, g-good with the pieces? There’s the mode-selection-thingamabob next.
The group…
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