Date: December 2, 1989 (Saturday Night).
Location: The Cooper Dining Room.
Event: The Fellowship of the Grease.
The transition from "High Society" to "Cooper Family Dinner" was a violent one.
Mary had laid out the good china (which we usually only used when the Pastor came over), but the food was pure Texas. A mountain of fried chicken, a bowl of mashed potatoes the size of a basketball, and corn on the cob.
I watched Serena van der Woodsen pick up a drumstick. She looked at it like it was an alien artifact, then took a bite.
Grease dripped onto her chin.
Mary gasped. She instantly lunged forward with a napkin. "Oh, honey! I'm so sorry! It's messy!"
"It's amazing," Serena mumbled, her mouth full. She looked at Eric. "Eric, eat the skin. The skin is the best part."
Eric, who was currently cutting his corn off the cob with a knife and fork, looked up. "Is that allowed?"
"In this house," George Sr. said, reaching for his fourth piece, "it's mandatory. You eat with your hands, son. Builds immunity."
"George, don't tell the boy to be a savage," Mary scolded. Then she turned to Eric with a sweet smile. "But he's right. Use your hands, sugar. God gave you fingers for a reason."
Eric hesitantly picked up a wing. He took a bite. His eyes widened.
"This is better than the truffle chicken at The Mansion," Eric whispered to Sheldon.
"Truffles are a fungus," Sheldon said, inspecting his corn for symmetry. "I prefer my poultry without mold."
***
The War Room
After dinner, the table was cleared. The good china was washed and hidden away safely.
Now, the real business began.
I hobbled to the kitchen counter and grabbed the pink bakery box I'd bought earlier that morning. I'd spent three hours answering phones and sweeping floors at Herschel Sparks' garage to pay for these. It wasn't a fortune, but it was my money.
"Dessert," I announced, dropping the box on the table. "Doughnuts. Chocolate glazes and crullers."
"Fried chicken followed by fried dough?" Meemaw asked, shuffling a deck of cards. "We're all going to die of heart failure before the game starts."
"Worth it," Missy said, grabbing a chocolate one.
Sheldon set up his Dungeon Master screen. He was wearing his purple construction-paper wizard hat.
"Attention," Sheldon announced. "The campaign is The Tomb of Horrors. It is designed to punish the foolish. Eric, are you prepared?"
Eric sat up straighter. "Elara the Elf Rogue is ready."
"Excellent," Sheldon said. He looked at Missy. "Melissa, have you chosen a class?"
Missy wiped chocolate off her lip. "I told you. I want to be Alexis Carrington."
"That is not a D&D class," Sheldon sighed.
"She's a Sorcerer," Serena interjected, helping Missy fill out her sheet. "High Charisma. High damage. And if anyone annoys her, she casts Fireball."
"Like throwing a drink in their face," Missy nodded, understanding the Dynasty reference perfectly. "But with fire. I'm in."
***
The Game
The party was a disaster waiting to happen.
* Georgie (Sir George): Paladin. Tank.
* Eric (Elara): Rogue. Trap expert.
* Serena (Lady Van der Woodsen): Bard. Face of the party.
* Missy (The Dark Queen): Sorcerer. Chaos agent.
* Meemaw (Sticky Fingers): Thief. (Currently stealing Eric's extra dice).
George Sr. didn't play, but he pulled his recliner right up to the edge of the dining room. He was watching the map like it was game film.
"You enter a narrow corridor," Sheldon narrated. "There are goblin archers on the ridge."
"I run forward!" Missy yelled.
"No!" George Sr. barked from the recliner. "Missy, don't run up the middle! That's a kill zone! Use the terrain!"
Missy paused. "So... what do I do?"
"Flank 'em," George said, pointing at the graph paper with his beer bottle. "Georgie takes the heat in the middle. Eric sneaks around the left side. You wait for the signal, then hit 'em with the fire stuff."
Sheldon looked at his dad, stunned. "That is... actually statistically sound tactical advice."
"It's football, son," George grunted. "Blocking and tackling. Georgie, get your shield up."
"I raise my shield," I said.
"The goblins fire!" Sheldon rolled. "Arrows bounce off Sir George's armor!"
"Ha!" George Sr. cheered. "Defense wins championships! Now, Eric, hit 'em!"
Eric rolled. "Sneak Attack! Natural 20!"
The table erupted. Even Mary, who was knitting in the corner, looked up and smiled. She didn't understand the game, but she understood the noise. It was happy noise.
***
The Charm Offensive
We reached a locked gate guarded by a Stone Golem.
"I smash it!" I said.
"It has high AC," Eric warned. "You'll break your sword."
"I pick the lock," Meemaw suggested. "And then I steal its wallet."
"It's a rock, Meemaw," I said. "It doesn't have a wallet."
"Everyone has a wallet if you look hard enough," Meemaw muttered.
"Let me handle this," Serena said. She smoothed her hair and picked up the dice. "I'm a Bard. I'm going to sing to it."
"Sing to the rock?" Missy asked. "That's stupid."
"Watch and learn," Serena winked. "I start singing a song about how strong and sturdy the Golem looks. I tell him he has excellent posture."
Sheldon frowned. "You are flattering a geological construct?"
"I roll for Performance," Serena said.
She rolled. 19.
Sheldon sighed, checking his notes. "The Golem... vibrates with appreciation. It has never been complimented on its mineral composition before. The gate opens."
"See?" Serena nudged Missy. "You catch more flies with honey than vinegar. And you get past Golems with compliments."
Missy looked at Serena with pure awe. "You are a genius."
***
The Departure
By 9:30 PM, the doughnuts were gone, the chicken was digested, and the Tomb of Horrors had been looted.
A horn honked outside. The town car.
The energy in the room shifted. The bubble popped.
Eric stood up, clutching his character sheet like it was a winning lottery ticket.
"Can... can I keep this?" Eric asked Sheldon.
Sheldon inspected the sheet. "Your math is accurate. Your trap detection was efficient. You may retain the sheet for next week's session."
Eric beamed. "Next week?"
"We require a Rogue," Sheldon said simply. "Georgie is too clumsy."
Serena stood up and walked over to Mary.
"Mrs. Cooper," Serena said, taking Mary's hands. "Thank you. For the chicken. For the tea. For... letting us be loud."
Mary looked at this girl—this rich girl from Dallas who had grease on her chin and kindness in her eyes—and she melted.
"You are welcome anytime, sweetie," Mary said. She pulled Serena into a hug. "You drive safe. And you tell your mother she missed a wonderful meal."
"I will," Serena smiled, though her eyes looked a little sad.
She walked over to the recliner.
"Good game, Coach," she said to George Sr.
George grinned. "Good flanking, Bard."
Finally, she came to me. I was still sitting with my leg propped up.
"Good luck against Lufkin," she whispered. "I know you're hurt. But you have a good team."
"Roots," I said.
"Roots," she nodded.
She leaned down and kissed my cheek.
It wasn't a showy kiss. It was soft. Real.
The room went dead silent.
"Ooooooh," Missy and Meemaw chanted in perfect unison.
Serena winked, grabbed Eric, and walked out the door.
We sat in silence for a moment, listening to the expensive car drive away.
George Sr. looked at the empty doughnut box.
"Well," George said. "She eats fried chicken, plays defense, and drives a Mercedes."
He looked at me.
"Don't screw this up, son."
[Quest Update: Party Morale]
* Status: Maxed Out.
* Family Unity: 100% (The whole family played/contributed).
* Georgie's Status: Rested, Fed, and Motivated.