Board James is a fanfiction based on the web series of the same name. Board James is owned by James Rolfe and Cinemassacre Productions.
Check out chapter 9 of my horror comedy
WARNING FOUL LANGUAGE AHEAD!!!
“I landed on Cross Fire,” Mike exclaimed, pumping his fist. “Cross Fiah’,” he sang in a falsetto voice, “Cross Fiah’, Cross Fiah’!”
A Cross Fire launcher materialized before Mike. He pointed it at Bootsy and let loose round after round of tiny, metal balls. Each one flew with such a speed, they blew right through the rotten zombie. All manners of chunks of flesh, skin, and bone went crashing against the walls, the ceiling, more fell to the floor, and all the while Mike sang Cross Fire.
“Jesus Christ,” Allen choked. “Is he dead?”
“He sure looks it.”
Bootsy, in fact, slumped out of his chair. What was left of him pooled on the floor. Shaking his head in despair, Allen just scrutinized the carnage.
“Well,” he mused, wiping his face and flinging errant Bootsy bits, “at least we’re down to two…but….”
“But,” Mike asked. “Roll.”
“I only have one life left, and you have three…because you cheated.”
“How the fuck am I cheating? Don’t you think this Hell spawn of a game would punish me for cheating?”
“Well, it’s an evil game, and you’re evil, so no, probably not.”
“Roll! We’re almost done.”
“Okay,” he huffed.
It came up eleven. Allen landed on another Dead End Drive spot, so he drew a card, and sure enough, there was a picture of Mike. When Allen looked at his hands, he had no weapon, and wondered how to kill his friend, when suddenly, a chandelier came crashing down, sending shards of skull in all directions. Allen recoiled from the mess, which struck his face. He wiped goo from his lips and spit. The image of Mike flickered, vanished along with the chandelier, and a fresh Mike manifested.
“I lost another one,” he said.
“I’m gonna’ win,” Mike smiled.
“No, I’m gonna’ play a spell card.”
“Spell card? Cheating again?!”
“I’m not cheating, fucker.”
“You’re the fucker, the motherfucker, Mike.”
“Play your card,” Allen growled.
“Here it is; rusty crap.”
“I think it’s trap.”
“No, it says crap, and look at the picture.”
“Yeah, it’s crap, alright; this whole fucking thing is crap.”
“Leave it to Board James to put together some asinine child’s game,” Mike complained. “Anyway, the rusty crap makes the target player roll only one movement die for the next three turns.”
“Don’t I know it….”
“Give me the die then,” Allen demanded.
“It’s still my turn.”
“But you played a spell card!”
“But I didn’t lose my turn,” he fired back and rolled. “Eight, fuck.”
“What is it now?”
“It’s a Tornado Rex space.”
“It says to crank Rex up as many times as the number rolled to land on this space.”
“That’s eight cranks, dude; you’re not supposed to crank Rex more than three times.”
“I have to!”
Throwing his hands up in angry resignation, Allen acquiesced. He watched Mike crank the toy six times before he went to put it on the peak at the center of the board.
“No, no, no, no!” Allen intervened by placing his hand in the way. “Eight times! I don’t want to see what happens when someone cheats. It’s probably a forfeit, and then we’re all fucked!”
Mike cranked it two more times and stuck it on the board. Allen nibbled at his thumbnail while his friend pressed a button, which released Rex, who bounced from one edge of the table to the next, halted by a formerly invisible barrier, one that glowed blue when struck by the toy, which just kept bouncing all over the place, sending game pieces flying. Finally, Rex’s momentum died out, and it fell over.
Both men went to right their pieces, but they were glued to the board. There was no way to move the pieces; they had landed where they had landed, and that was the end of it. The two passed a worried look.
“Where’d you land,” Mike asked.
“Where’d you land?!”
“It’s your turn, so…where’d you land?”
“Weapons and Warriors. It says to blow the shit out of your enemies with a cannon.”
“That’s not fair,” Mike grumbled.
Allen turned in his seat. He looked one way and the other, but he saw only corpses. Then, to their utter amazement, two knights in full field plate rolled a cannon from sheer darkness to the table. They bowed to Allen and stepped back.
“Hah, fuck you, Mike. Eat steel!”
“I think it’s iron,” Mike yelped, but Allen had already rounded the cannon.
He pulled a rope at the back end, which caused flint to strike and light a wick. It burned for a second, and the writer stuck his fingers in his ears, grinning. Mike scrambled to get away, but the blast erupted, and an immense, iron ball blew him to shit; it literally popped Mike like a water balloon.
“Fuck, yeah; that one’s for you, Sharon. Hopefully…if this ends, I won’t be left alone in this dank basement for eternity.”
“Holy shit, that fucking hurt,” Mike said, stepping into the light from a darkened corner. He took his seat. “My turn.” He leaned in to see where his piece was. “Make a call to those beyond…?”
“What’s that mean?”
Mike shrugged. Just then, a phone rang. He turned to his right to find the Dream Phone sitting on top of a stack of games. It rang and rang, but he didn’t reach for it.
“Answer it,” Allen demanded. “We’re almost done.”
“It said to make a call, not get a call.”
“I don’t know what to tell you, oh yeah, answer it!”
“Okay. You don’t have to yell,” the young man said, moving his hand in a placating manner. Scratching his head in exasperation, Allen waited for Mike’s mystery caller to reveal something beneficial. “Hello?”
“Hey, Mike, it’s James…how ya’ doin’?”
“Who is it,” Allen asked, tugging at his crotch and pulling free a bloody hand.
“Shut up, I’m on the phone.”
“What,” James asked.
“Nothing, I’m talking to Allen.”
“Well, what do you want,” James howled.
“Me? You called me. What do you want?”
“Oh, I just wanted to say that your dream date isn’t wearing long pants. Bye.”
“Oh, thanks very fuckin’ much,” Mike puffed, tossing the phone aside.
“Is it my turn,” Allen asked.
After rolling a six, Allen landed on a space, which stated to move to the closest space allowing a player to draw a card. Befuddled, he looked over to Mike. The man winced and shrugged.
“Do I have to move forwards,” Allen asked. “If I do then I have to draw a monster card, but if I can move in any direction, I can reach the Dead End Drive pile, which means you’ll die, and I’ll win.”
“You have to go forwards,” Mike replied with a self assured nod.
“You’re just saying that.”
“No, it’s true.”
“You don’t know that, you just don’t want to lose!”
“Neither do you!”
“Fuck!” Allen threw a fist into his open palm. “Okay, I’ll go forwards.” Slowly, he moved his game piece another three spaces and left it on the draw a monster card spot. From the pile, he pulled a card, and as his heart raced, and sweat dripped down the side of his face, he turned the card over to look at it. “Godzilla?!”
No sooner had the two men locked eyes that the entire basement rumbled. It wasn’t thunder; it was more like an earthquake, but the noise was drowned out by a piercing shriek. They knew Godzilla was stalking the neighborhood. Whole chunks of the ceiling crashed down, knocking candles over, setting games on fire, water spilled from broken pipes, the table split in half when the upper floor caved in, and as the game burst aflame, and the men screamed, and everything shook, and the whole house caved in, another, monstrous shriek resounded.
The king of monsters tore the entire structure from its foundation. Mike and Allen grabbed a hold of each other, staring into the flickering, night sky. Soaking wet and standing a hundred and sixty four feet tall, the ravenous reptilian retched fire, stomped, and reached out a razor sharp claw. The two friends just shut their eyes, screaming, crying for a merciful God. Then, there was nothing.
Thanks for reading. There’s one more chapter, but if you wanna’ find out how this horror comedy ends, you’ll have to download a free copy of Board James form Smashwords.