The Deck of Death and Tweaker’s Vanishing Act

AO: Halo

When: 2025-06-23

QIC: Skol

PAX (7): Abacus (Mark Green), Drain Hole, Jillian, Jorts, Skol, Sparky, Tweaker

Preamble:

The Deck of Death and Tweaker's Vanishing Act

The sun was just beginning to bake the asphalt of the old school parking lot, promising another humid Georgia morning. Four of us — me, Skol, Sparky, and the perpetually fidgety Tweaker — stood around a battered deck of cards, ready to face the "Deck of Death." The rules were simple, brutal, and effective: draw a card, do the corresponding exercise. "Alright, gentlemen," Skol announced, fanning the deck. "Hearts are Merkins, Spades are Foxholes – remember, no Alpha, just round up. Diamonds are LBCs, and Clubs are Shoulder Taps, Alpha count. Face cards are 15, Aces are a full lap around the lot, and the Joker? Fifty burpees. Let's get after it." Just as Sparky reached for the first card, Tweaker clutched his stomach, his face a sudden shade of sickly green. "Uh, guys… I think I've got a Code Red situation here," he stammered, his eyes wide with a mix of panic and urgency. "Explosive diarrhea. Serious. Like, right now serious." Before anyone could offer commiseration or a wise crack, he was fumbling for his keys, already halfway to his beat-up white van. "I'll be back! Just gotta… deal with this!" The van roared to life, tires squealing faintly as it peeled out of the parking lot and vanished down the street, leaving a faint whiff of desperation in its wake. We exchanged bewildered glances. "Well, that was… dramatic," Sparky mused. "He'll be back in ten," Skol said confidently, shrugging. "Let's roll." And so, the Deck of Death began. The first few cards flew by. A 7 of Hearts meant 7 Merkins. Then an 8 of Spades translated to 8 Foxholes (rounded up from whatever decimal equivalent our form vaguely resembled). We were sweating, groaning, but pushing through. Ten minutes passed. Twenty. Then thirty. "You guys seen Tweaker's van?" I asked, wiping sweat from my eyes after a King of Diamonds (15 LBCs) had left my abs screaming. "He's been gone a while." Skol drew a 9 of Clubs. "9 Shoulder Taps, Alpha count," he mumbled, already dropping to the ground. "Yeah, he usually doesn't take this long for a pit stop. Even for him." As the deck dwindled, and our muscles screamed, a new concern began to gnaw at us. We'd hit a Queen of Hearts, followed by an Ace of Spades, forcing us to grimace through another 15 Merkins and a full lap around the increasingly hot parking lot. Tweaker was nowhere. "Okay, this isn't normal," Sparky said, his voice laced with genuine worry as he finished his lap. "He said 'explosive diarrhea,' not 'witness protection program.'" "Should we… should we call someone?" I offered. "Maybe issue a Silver Alert? Missing person, last seen in a white van, possibly suffering from a gastrointestinal emergency." Skol actually chuckled, but it was a nervous sound. "I'm sure he's fine. Probably just ran out of toilet paper and had to make a supply run to three different stores." We were down to the last few cards. Our shirts were soaked, our bodies aching. We’d pulled another Ace, and were halfway through our final lap when, like a mirage, Tweaker's white van, looking slightly less battered, slowly pulled back into the parking lot. It idled for a moment, then he slowly emerged, looking pale, disheveled, but undeniably present. He shuffled towards us, offering a weak, sheepish smile. "Hey, guys," he wheezzed. "So… turns out 'explosive diarrhea' was an understatement. I basically had to find a car wash that would let me use their power washer on myself. It was… a lot." He shuddered. "And then I got lost trying to find a new pair of shorts. I think I drove to another county." We stared at him, a mix of relief and morbid fascination on our faces. The immediate concern evaporated, replaced by the usual camaraderie and the inevitable teasing that would follow. We had finished the Deck of Death, but Tweaker had faced his own, far more personal, and undoubtedly messier, joker. "You owe us 50 burpees for the worry, Tweaker," Skol said, a grin spreading across his face. Tweaker groaned. "Fifty burpees? After that? Can I just… lie down?" "Nope," Sparky said, already dealing out the last card. "You're back. Time to earn that Silver Alert you almost got."

The Thang:

Deck of Death Hearts - Merkins Spades - Foxholes - not Alpha and round up numbers Diamonds - LBC Clubs - Shoulder Taps Alpha count Face cards - 15 Ace - Lap Joker - 50 Burpees

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