“Alright, is everybody here?” asks Steve, the store manager. To his content, everybody is in fact here. “Alright guys, welcome to our annual New Year’s Lock-in! Today we will wargame ‘til 6 in the morning, and no one will be allowed to leave until then,” he says, as he locks the door. “The tables are set up in the other room over there,” he says, gesturing to the room nearby. “Now pick a partner and go play!” After an unnecessarily long and loud cheer, everyone files off, and begin unpacking their Warhammer onto the gaming tables.
Once everyone leaves, Steve turns to his trustful employee Mark. “Alright Mark, every year there is at least one person who leaves this party while the rest of us losers are stuck in here for the night, using excuses like “my wife’s delivering”, and “I need my epi-pen”. But not today. I will not allow these people to spend this New Year around friends and family. Oh no, no, no, no, no, no! A terrible thought indeed, would you agree?” Mark replied surprised, “Uh…” “That’s the spirit! Now, I need you to clip the telephone wire so that no-one can call, pretending they need their friend for some sort of emergency.” “But sir…” “While you do that, I’ll go flush the key down the toilet.” Steve runs off, leaving Mark to his own devices.
Tim walks by the counter and confronts Mark. “Hey Mark, where’s the bathroom?” “To the right, all the way at the end of the hall.” “Thanks” he says, heading off in a hurry.
Steve snickers evilly, and flushes the key down the toilet, making sure that no-one
is allowed out. Unfortunately, it must have got stuck in the drain, as water begun filling up. “Uh oh”. Bah, no matter. He’ll call the plumber in the morning. With a whistle of satisfaction, he leaves the room, just as Tim runs in, the largest one of the bunch, nearly knocking Steve over. “Agh, dammit Tim!” “Sorry Steve.” He closes the door and takes a long, long crap.
Mark, having retrieved his $30 Games Workshop hobby pliers, began snipping the telephone cord. He wondered why on earth Steve would ask him to do this. Is it really that bad if someone doesn’t feel like playing Warhammer at 3:00 in the morning? Whatever the case, Mark did as he was told, because his father had always told him when he was young; “Love is for people with cash. No dough, no go. Now go get daddy his icepack, will ya?” He couldn’t risk being fired. Carefully positioning the pliers over the wire, Steve runs up to him and whisper/shouts in his ear: Tim went to take a shit in the bathroom!
Mark jumps, snipping the telephone cord in half. “Jeeze… What’s the problem?” he asks. Shhhh… Tim went to take a shit in the bathroom!
“Well, I heard that much, so what’s wrong?” What’s wrong is that...
“I know Tim went to take a shit in the bathroom! What’s wrong with that?” Stop shouting will ya!? See, when I flushed the key down the toilet…
A flush sounded in the distance, and both of them turned their heads.
Brown liquid seeps underneath the door, soft chunks of feces floating in it. A loud gasp is heard, as Tim prepares to deliver a second payload. Mark whispers angrily into Steve’s ear, You clogged the toilet!? No, the key did it!
Mark rubs his face with a long sigh. “We have to mop this up before the others see it. Steve looks around. “Right, I’ll get the mop! You keep watch. If anyone tries to get past this counter, you bribe ‘em, okay?” Steve heads off. “Wait, bribe ‘em with what?”
Mark waits attentively behind the counter. He hears a whistle behind him. Mark turns around and sees Steve standing there with the mop, pretending to play it as a guitar. Shooting him an angry look, he prompts to the job. Turning back, Mark sees Jimmy, the fourteen year-old boy walk by. “Wait, wait, wait! Uh… you’re not allowed to go there right now.” The kid stops and looks at him. “Why not?” he asks. “Because there was… Uh, well you see… Hey, how’s about a free box of Boyz?” Mark asks with a nervous smile. “Boyz? Jeeze, somebody’s being cheap. Give me a Deff Dread.” “Okay, fine, a Deff Dread!” “Nah, I’ve already got one of those. Hey, you know those Stompas look nice...” Mark sighs. “Fine, a Stompa then.” “Two.” he snaps back. “Two!? What are you ever going to do with two Stompas?” “I dunno. Destroy stuff?” Mark sighs again. “Fine.”
Steve comes back. “Man, that was nasty.” “Yeah, well at least it’s over with.” A second flush is heard. “Aaaaargh!!!” Steve runs down to the bathroom and knocks on the door. “Tim! Can you not see that the toilet is clogged!?” “I-I’m sorry Steve! I’ve got diarrhea!” “That doesn’t mean you have to flush every time you take a crap!” “I know, it’s just that the toilet is completely flooded, and the turd is up to my…” Steve walks away. “Mark, get the mop.” With a look of disappointment, Mark goes off down the room.
Steve walks into the gaming section, where everyone has either finished, or is finishing a battle. “Okay guys, write down your scores and pick another partner, this will be the second game.” He returns to the counter. Mark is waiting there. “Steve, what are we going to do in case someone wants to go to the bathroom?” “We tell ‘em to go across the street” he replies. “But we can’t go across the street, because you flushed the key down the toilet!” He stops and ponders. “Oh, right, right… Well, we could always…” Mark looks incredulously at him. “We could always crap in a box.” “What!? No-one’s going to want to crap in a box!” “But we’ve got plenty of ‘em! They can use Dark Eldar boxes; they’re the shittiest army in the game!” Steve breaks into hysterics at his sudden pun. “Actually, they got a new Codex.” “What? Since when?” “Since a few months ago.” “Ohhhhh… We got plenty of Necrons…” “Look, I don’t think anyone wants to shit in a box!” “Oh yeah, you just wait and see.”
It has been two hours of endless Warhammer, and everyone is getting tired. Bruce comes up to the counter, when Steve and Mark intercept him instinctively. “Hi.” Bruce pauses, shocked by the sudden reaction. “Hi.” Another awkward pause of five seconds. “I need to use the crapper.” “Well, there’s been a little maintenance issue… You can crap in a Necron box, I mean, how much shittier can they get!?” he says, reddening at his joke. “Actually, I play Necrons, and I haven’t lost a single battle yet.” Steve gets up, embarrassed. “Well, the potty’s still out of order.” “Okay, give me a box of Blood Angels then.” “What!? Blood Angels are the most awesome thing to ever happen to this world!” “Yeah, see how it feels?... Wait, I’ll just go across the street” he says, heading off. “Yeah, but it wouldn’t be a New Year’s Lock-in
, if we weren’t locked in
, right?” “Look, what’s the big deal? I’ll only be a few secs.”
“Steveflushedthekeydownthetoiletandthekeygotstucki nthepipeandnowwecan’tgetout!” Mark shouts out, unable to hold it in any longer. Steve punches him hard in the side. “You mean we’re stuck in here, without a toilet until six in the morning!?” “Precisely.” “Can’t we at least call the firemen to bust us out?” “We could… but Mark cut the telephone wire!” “Hey! You told me to do it! See, I was against it, but…” Bruce walks away, and grabs a Blood Angel Battleforce off the shelf.
“I said I was sorry…” Mark begs. “Don’t talk to me.”
One hour ‘til New Year’s. Only one more hour. Steve sits behind the counter, tapping the desk. Hey, is Tim still on the toilet? Steve walks over to the bathroom and knocks. “Tim?” “Tiiiiiim?” He turns the knob, but the door’s locked. Steve backs up, and runs forward, crashing through the door. Tim is on the floor, passed out in his own feces. “Ugh… Oh… NO!” He grabs Tim’s arms and drags him out, leaving a trail of brown on the floor. The smell must have knocked him out.
“Mark! Clean up the bathroom!” Steve snaps. “Yes Steve, but I’m not doing it because I have to – it’s because I want to win back your respect…” “Just shut up and clean the bathroom!” “Yes sir.” Steve curses and proceeds to push down on Tim’s stomach to get him breathing again. Just then, Daniel walks in. “Yo Steve, I…” He notices Steve pushing down on Tim’s unconscious form, dark stains all over his shirt. Without saying another word, he backs up slowly, back the way he came. He dashes to the phone, but realizes the line has been cut. Then a thought occurs to him: Steve’s going to kill us all, just like how he killed Tim…
Daniel walks up to Bruce, who is submerged in his game of Warhammer. Hey, Steve’s gonna kill us!
“Hmph” Bruce replies. “It’s true! Go look!” “Can’t you see I’m busy!?” Daniel walks over to the next table. Hey, Steve’s gonna kill us all! He’s already killed Tim…
“Well it’s about time somebody
does” says Ron, laughing. “Won’t you at least come see?” “Nah, I’m too busy. Busy, busy, busy…”
“Mark, get some cold water over here.” “Of course, and not because-” “Will you just shut up!?” “Yes sir.” Seconds later, Mark comes in with a bucket full of water and dumps it on Tim. Minutes later, Tim wakes up. “St-Steve? Is that you?” “Yeah, why don’t you go drink some-” “Awwww, I really have to shit!” he gets up and runs to the bathroom. “NOOOOOOO, for the love of all that is good and holy, don’t take another shit!” Too late. A loud fart is heard, followed by splashing water. “Okay buddy, that’s it! Once we get busted out of here I’m banning you from this store forever!” “But Steve, I- awwwwwwwwwwww… yeah…”
Steve sits behind the counter, tapping angrily. Jimmy walks by, seeking clarification for the rules. “Hey Steve, wh-” Jimmy is cut off. “WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT!?” He runs back, genuinely terrified.
Daniel sits on a chair, lost in thought. Steve’s gonna kill us… Steve’s gonna… wait. What if I knock him out, then show the cops when they arrive. This way, we’ll be safe until the morning.
Daniel snickers quietly, then turning into a maniacal laugh.
Daniel always brings a camera to film his battles, so he can watch them all day in his mother’s basement. And with a camera comes a tripod. A long, metal tripod…
Mark comes to the counter. “Steve, we gotta do something about the toilet before we drown in Tim’s crap-water!” “I know, I know!” He lays his head on the counter and sobs uncontrollably. “It’s hopeless! Tim will never stop shitting! WHY!?” In a quick motion, Daniel rounds the corner and hits Steve on the back of the head with the tripod, causing him to black out.
” Mark shouts. “He… he was going to kill us…” Daniel gasps. “What are you talking about?” he asks. “I’m talking about that!” he exclaims, pointing towards the ground. “Huh?” “He’s… he’s gone!” “What are you talking about?” “Tim! I saw Steve killing Tim!” “Huh? Tim’s still in the crapper.” “Then what was the-” “It’s shit.” “Ooooooh… okay…”
Steve moans. “Steve, buddy! Let me help you up!” Steve looks up and sees Daniel standing over him. He bats his hand aside and gets up himself. “You are never allowed back in my store ever again.” “But it was an honest accident, see I thought-” he begged. “Look Dan. I’m generally a calm, understanding guy, but when someone hits me upside the head with a tripod, the two of us are gonna have some problems.” Mark cuts in, “hey, it’s almost New Year’s!” Steve looks at his watch. “Why yes, I believe it is.”
Steve enters the gaming center, where everyone is wrapping up their games, apparently unaware that Steve was passed out for twenty minutes. “Your attention please!” Nobody notices. “Your attention please!” He waits three seconds. “YOUR ATTENTION PLEASE!” Everybody looks. “Thank you” he sighs. “It’ll be New Year’s in a few minutes, so if everybody could just come over to the counter, we’ll break out the champagne. After a loud cheer, all the gamers file in.
“Five! Four! Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!” Steve turns over to Mark. “Flick the switch.” *click*. The whole wall behind them rotates around, revealing shelves upon shelves of alcohol. Beers, wines, champagne, vodkas, the whole deal. “Now let’s get this party started!” “WOOHOO!” Steve and Mark grab bottles off the shelves and place them on the counter, where they are snatched by greedy hands. “Um, excuse me!” Bruce comes through. “Yes?” “My son is here.” “And?” “I don’t want my son to see people getting drunk off their arses.” Mark buds in. “Okay, I’ll get the blindfold.” “Thank you.”
“You-you know, *belch* I think we elected the wro-*pukes* the wrong president….” “N-no, see, Bush, m’kay? Bush just does things the peop-*pukes* and… and… *belch*”. Tim is passed out in the bathroom again, holding a bottle of Gran Marnier. Jimmy had removed his blindfold and downed a couple of Dos Equis half an hour earlier, his father having been passed out over Ron. Few of the gamers are still conscious, but those who are are only barely. Steve and Mark are amongst these. “Y-ya know Mark… I think today has been an exceptionally good day.” “Awwww shut it boss!” “Hey, hey! Y-you talk to your… *belch* your employer… what are we talking about again?” Mark breaks down sobbing. “I… I don’t remember!” Steve holds onto Mark, sobbing loudly.
Everybody wakes up dazed, puke and saliva spattered all over the floor. Ron is the first to get up, and check the time. “Hey! Hey guys, it’s si- *pukes* six in the morning! We made it!” Everybody gets up sluggishly and cheers, still trying to catch their breaths. Steve is the last to get up. “Hey Mark?” Mark moans. “Mark, wake up!” he slaps him. “Huh, huh, I’m awake!” I need you to run a stock check.” “Why is that?” “Because I need to know how many boxes of Warhammer were crapped in”. “Yes boss.”
Daniel gets off the ground, using the counter for support. “Well, that was fun. I’m going to go now…” He tries the door. “Yo Steve, you can unlock the door now.” “Uhhhh…” “What’s the matter?” “Well, you see, I was afraid that someone would try to leave during the lock-in, so I… I flushed the… key down the toilet.” “You what!?” “Hey, at least I didn’t hit your head with a tripod!” The two of them went on fighting, while young Jimmy went out the back door.