Everything I Need to Know I Learned from Dungeons & Dragons (25 page)

“Did you know 59% of electricity in the United States is wasted electricity?” I said, happy I happened to have glanced at the insert that came with our electric bill just so I could mouth off that impressive little tidbit.

“Nope.”

“Do you hear that?” I asked. “It's the sound of Al Gore's heart breaking.”

“I'll go turn it off,” he said.

Later that day we had our D&D game.

“Did anyone pick up the eighth-level magic item you guys found in the chamber last week?” the DM asked. The Wyld Stallyns are notoriously bad about cashing in magic items.

“Well, I can pretty much guarantee that Holden didn't pick it up,” I said, referring to Bart's character.

“He might have if Tabitha picked it up and put it on his pillow or stuffed it in his lunch bag,” Bart suggested, perhaps in reference to the pile of junk mail that's been sitting on our dining room table for two weeks.

“Is Holden planning on getting new storm windows or at-home teeth whitening systems? I mean, clearly he is or else he would have tossed that once-in-a-lifetime offer for cement-based siding in the trash like a normal person,” I told him.

“Maybe he
is
interested in those offers,” Bart said. “Or maybe he just has nowhere to put things now because he doesn't have an office.”

“Uh, guys?” the DM asked. “I just need to know who has the magic item.”

“Oh, Holden should talk to Tabby about not having things!” I said. “She used to have a beautiful dining room table. And a cat that didn't pee on things! She can totally relate!”

“I think I have the magic item,” Bertrand said. “Yeah. That's right. It's right here. Let's get this party moving.”

“I hope it's an amulet of compromise,” Jordan said. “Or we might be here awhile.”

“We're role-playing!” we said, together on that at least.

“Maybe we could take an extended rest,” Hilary, our usually quiet cleric suggested. “I think Tabby and Holden could use some sleep.”

“You better make sure the contents of your rucksacks are unpacked and your crossbow bolts are organized by size or Tabitha won't be able to go to sleep.”

“Tabitha likes order,” I said. “Is that so wrong?”

“She likes control and, yes, it can be wrong.”

“Well,” Bertrand noted, “she is a controller, after all.”

“That's not true!” I shouted and then remember who we're talking about. Wait. Who
are
we talking about? “Yes, Tabitha is a controller but she also is someone who wants to live in a filth-free home. A home where dust bunnies aren't glaring down on her. A home where the plastic on the bread bag isn't melted onto the toaster oven. A home where the bathroom walls aren't covered in toothpaste.”

“
I have an electric toothbrush!
” he shouted. “It's messy! It sprays!”

“
I
have an electric toothbrush, too!” I shouted back. “Toothbrushes don't spray! Owners spray! We can't use cinnamon-flavored toothpaste
anymore because every morning our bathroom looks like a scene from
Dexter!
”

“Well, why don't you use one of your
four
towels to clean it up?” he said as he sneered.

“Because my
four
towels all serve a purpose—hair, face, body, and postmoisturizer and predressing! And, oh yeah, because it's not my job to clean it up!”

“Uh-oh,” Hilary said. “Not the towels.”

Bart mumbled something under his breath that sounded like
it's stupid, but whatever.

“What did you say?” I asked.

“I said, it's stupid but whatever.”

“You're a big boy. You splatter it, you wipe it down with a Windex cleaning cloth conveniently located under the sink.”

Jordan grabbed a handful of popcorn. “This is gonna get uglier than an orc in a prom dress.”

“Your character is very bossy,” Bart said.

“And your character is very messy,” I said.

And we agreed our characters should work on these things and finally began the encounter.

“Get him a little basket,” Judy insisted.

Don't worry. I was confused, too, and I was
in
the conversation.

“What's Bart going to do with a little basket? Put it next to his bowl of curds and whey?”

“No,” Judy said, sounding a tad impatient with my lack of vision. “He can keep all of his desk necessities in there. Then when you need to use the dining room table for something other than his office, you just put the little basket in the closet. There. Your home is in order.”

“I see where you're going with this,” I said. “But I don't understand why it has to be a little basket. I can't imagine him embracing a desk basket.”

Judy sighed, a sure sign she had reached her patience threshold. “It doesn't have to be a basket. But you should check Pier One before you write me off. They have plenty of masculine looking baskets. They're brown.”

“Oh, well, when it comes to ‘little baskets' I think we're way beyond enfeeblement.”

“Just go shopping after work,” she said. “And get him something that's his own. It will make him feel less like a guest. It's his house, too, you know.”

“Oh, I know it.”

That maybe true and all, but if Bart really felt like a guest in my home—our home—then wouldn't he try harder to be neat and tidy? I would never splatter toothpaste all over my host's bathroom mirror and leave it there.
For days.

Regardless, I took what she said to heart. He is a stranger in my land. After we hung up, I went online and ordered Bart a gift subscription to a men's magazine. There. I'm sure he feels more at home already.

That night after work, we didn't talk much on the drive home. I called Judy so the quiet wouldn't be so obvious and uncomfortable.

“Why are you calling again?” she asked. “I know they don't let you watch reality television at work so whatever happened in the last eight hours can't be that important.”

I wasn't about to tell her Bart and I were having growing pains and risk getting schooled in the seven easy ways to make sure your man never sees you enter or leave the bathroom.

“I heard one of the
Real Housewives of Miami
gets arrested for a DUI.” It's a lie but a low-risk one. Someone on those shows is always getting arrested for drunk driving. You'd think they might want to focus less on the custom-designed fire pits and infinity pools and maybe put a little spare change in the taxi funds.

I could hear her clicking away on her keyboard. “Oh, which one? I'll Google it right now.”

That bought me a good seven minutes but we were still about fifteen miles from home. I moved on to plan B.

“I'm supposed to bring dessert to Rachael and Lars's house next Saturday. What should I make?”

“Is Bart with you?”

Uh-oh. “Umm, yeah, why?”

“Well, shouldn't you be talking to him?”

This was weird, seeing as how he's with me every morning and yet she doesn't worry about etiquette then. Was it possible Judy was on to me?

“We talk all the time,” I said. “Besides, you watch Food Network all day. You're a much better resource for these types of things.”

“What does Bart want for dessert?”

“Oh, come on! Just give me a stupid Bundt cake recipe! I'll take anything!”

She was silent, but her fingers tapped away. Finally, she spoke. “Don't put anything in his name. And get his share of the bills in cash. Do you have a lease? Because you can get a template right online. Here. I'll send you a link.”

“You're being ridiculous. I'm not doing any of that.”

“This is your investment! You need to protect yourself!”

“Who says?”

“
The Good Girl's Guide to Living in Sin.
I'm paying extra to have it overnighted. I should have thought of this sooner.”

The following week when our D&D group met, I had Tabitha trying out some new spells.

“I'd like to cast
fountain of flame
,” I said pointing to the area on the map where Tabby's zone would be. It's a daily power, but casting it right away seemed like a no-brainer. It creates a zone that lasts for the entire encounter and any enemy who enters the zone or ends their turn there will take five fire damage. Pretty strategic move for someone who either forgets to use her daily or tries to cast it three times in one turn.

“So that's where you want to put your burst?” our Dungeon Master asked.

“Yes, that's what I said, isn't it?” Jeesh. Why is he always repeating what I just said? When Bertrand shoots his bow or Jordan marks someone he doesn't make them triple confirm that's what they want to do.

“Are you sure that's the most opportune location for a burst?” Bertrand asked.

Jeez, Louise, is this contagious? But I can see why Bertrand's apprehensive. Tabitha accidentally scorched a few hairs on his bard's beard by miscalculating the burst radius of a fireball or two. Or six. Whatever. It happens.

“Yes, Bertrand, I'm sure. Tabitha's zone is right here.” I showed them the clearly marked section on the playmat. “And don't worry. It only hits enemies.” There. That ought to appease him.

“Okay, then,” the DM said. “Tabitha has lit up this area here where there are no enemies within a good thirty feet.”

Oh. “Well, no enemies
currently
,” I pointed out. “But there will be.”

“Considering we're standing over here and they came from there,” Bertrand said, pointing to my clearly marked zone on the playmat, “maybe not.”

“You don't know that, Bertrand.”

The Dungeon Master did, though. When it was the kobolds' turn they pointed out Tabitha's magnificent wall of fire and … laughed? Kobolds are such bitches.

“They easily walk around the flaming area,” the Dungeon Master said. “And they throw their javelins at the wizard, assuming she's not bright enough to duck.”

Tabby ducked but she hit her head on a low-hanging branch on the way down.

“That's fourteen damage,” the DM said.

“I had a feeling.…” Bertrand said.

After the game Bart and I walked back to his desk.

“Well, that wasn't my finest moment,” I said.

He shrugged. “You didn't know where the kobolds were going to move next. It was rooted in good intentions.”

“Bertrand laughed at me.”

“Bertrand laughs at everyone,” he said. “That's his role, just like you have your job and I have mine and the Dungeon Master has his. That's what makes a well-rounded party.”

“What class is it that gets to laugh at people?” I ask. “Because I totally want to play one next time.”

“Well, that's Bertrand's job outside of the party. He's actually a really good healer. But just because you play your character differently than he would doesn't mean it's the wrong way.”