Clue


That night was game night. Dad had heard that I had been playing alongside my sylph and decided Electra could pick the game. And that she’d be a player, not just my dice slave or my card bitch.

Dad used the word ‘caddy,’ of course. ‘Slave’ was my word, ‘bitch’ was Electra’s, but she didn’t use it in front of my parents.

Her eyes went wide and she hemmed and hawed, but finally quietly asked, “Clue?”

“Table stakes,” I said instantly. Everyone turned to me.

“There’s no money in Clue,” Electra said.

“Wade sometimes gets… Cocky,” Mom said. “And he makes bets-“

“Wagers,” Dad corrected her. She ignored him.

“About who’s going to win. Little things like cooking the meal one extra night, or washing the car.”

“But if he loses, he gets desperate,” I said. “Starts trying to cover his losses with greater and greater bets.”

“Wagers!”

“Like what?” she asked.

“Like, say, we all cook two meals a week, right? So we three write ‘Not cook one meal’ on a piece of paper and throw that in the kitty. And the winner gets two ‘not cook’ coupons for that week.”

“The rest of us each cook one extra meal,” Mom said.

“And the desperate wagers?” Electra asked with a smile towards my dad.

“Someone,” Mom said, pointing a discreet finger at Dad, “is going to cook the entire Thanksgiving dinner this year. To include the bird, a potato dish, bread, two veggies and cranberry sauce.”

“Oh,” she nodded. My sylph looked thoughtful.

“I just want to establish that I’m not responsible for any bets made beyond what’s already at the table.”

“If my bets are so desperate,” Dad said, “why are you worried?”

“Because Electra is way too smart to bet against,” I said.

“She’s smart enough, sure,” Dad said. “But just how smart can she really be?”

“Um…” Mom half-heartedly protested.

“Okay, yeah,” Dad said, “but what can she really afford to bet?”

“Oh, I’ll cover her!” I said.

“I don’t need your protection!” Electra protested.

“I mean,” I said, “If you have to cook a meal, I’ll help. You read the recipe, I’ll heat or mix or stir or set the oven…”

“You’ll be my cook…” She paused, glancing in my parents’ direction. “…Caddy?”

“Yes,” I said. We shared a smile for a long moment. I knew what word she hadn’t said, and I accept it.

“Oh, get a room, you two,” Dad joked.

“WADE!” Mom snapped.

“What? WHAT?”

“We HAVE a room, sir,” Electra pointed out.

I wanted to say that we already slept together, but that was the wrong time to mention it. It would have ended there and then.

Dad coughed and fidgeted, then pointed at me. “Cover her, that means she’s your responsibility, win OR lose,” Dad said.

“Yes,” I agreed.

“Okay,” Electra nodded.

The kitty was three chances to not cook a meal, and one coupon to determine what we got on Saturday from Delivery.

If I won, I wanted to try a Thai place across town. Dad was deeply suspicious of all oriental food, mostly because the dish names weren’t obvious.

I mean, you order a burger, you get a burger. You order shaking beef, what the hell was that?

So we were ready and we started to play.

I dislike Clue. I can never figure out how other people figure it out. I just guess. I suggest possibilities and mark off what people show me.

Electra wrote actual words down on her sheet. I couldn’t see them, no one could, but she took longer than a check required.

And she made notes even when I was the one asking and Mom showed me her card!

She didn’t see what the card was, but it got her closer to an answer!

I was glad we weren’t playing for money.



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Index

6. Dance Dance Reflex Action

8. Victory