“I think I’ve got a stomach bug.”
Silvia looked up from her book, raising an eyebrow as Blane stumbled, unshaven and bleary-eyed into the living room. “It’s two o’clock. You missed your hockey practice.”
“Show some compassion, will you?” Blane wrapped his arms around his stomach and groaned. “I’m serious.”
“One question,” Silvia said, unmoved. “How much beer to you have to drink to bet everyone in the room that you can swallow thirty dice and wash them down with more beer?”
Blane stopped his slow progress toward the bathroom. “Say what?”
“Do you remember anything about last night?”
“I swallowed dice?” Blane sank down onto the sofa. “Seriously?”
“The good news,” Silvia replied, “is that the nurse on the health line I called, said, when she stopped laughing, that you should pass them on your own.”
Blane buried his face in his hands. “Did I at least win the bet?”
“Nope. I did. You managed twenty-three before you passed out, face down in your beer.”
I had fun writing this story. For some reason, Silvia winning the bet Blane doesn’t even remember appealed to my sense of humor.
Yeah, he rolled a natural 1 (D&D reference).
That was dicey, alright. 😉