MB Short Story: Trauma Olympics (Round 1) (Patreon)

Round 1: Family History

Glitch: Dead Dad card!

Kent: . . .

Glitch, pointing to Kent: Dead Mom card!

Kent winces.

Grayson: What is this?

Jo: An argument y’all keep having inside my head, so it’s getting written down. My sincerest apologies to the audience.

Grayson: Inside your head? Excuse me?

Jo: Roll with it.

Sally: In that case, double jeopardy! Orphan card!

Ambrose: . . . Ah, I have that card as well.

Shard: Shut up about your past, Kim. No one cares.

Glitch, to Sally: You were raised by two doting parents, plus your bio folks could still be alive. Disqualified.

Sally: But! Consider the deep-rooted abandonment issues.

Nick: Except you don’t really have those?

Sally: Shut up. My issues are robust and plentiful.

Nick: Not arguing with that, but your issues have nothing to do with being adopted.

Sally: Are you accusing me of being well-adjusted? How dare you.

Grayson: I’m certain that Nick only meant that your family is enviably close.

Nick: Enviably? Oh, right. Gray has the “Shitty Father” card.

Glitch: Yeah, well, Kenzie has that card, too!

Kent's wince deepens.

Grayson: Pain isn’t a competition.

Sally: Except this is literally a Painful Past competition.

Glitch: In which case, Sir Black here is immediately disqualified.

Glitch makes a shooing motion towards Gray.

Glitch: Go on, get! Back to your ivory tower, princeling.

Grayson, dryly: You’ve never been to England, have you.

Glitch: I’m deathly allergic to unseasoned food.

Nick: So, only people with dead parents are allowed troubled childhoods? That seems reductive.

Sally: True, I still have the “Tragic Prophet” trope to lean on, don’t I?  Okay, I’m dropping the Orphan Card. My real parents are alive.

Nick: That’s what I said earlier, but you got mad at me!

Sally: Because you said that I had issues!

Nick: I was agreeing with you!

Ambrose: This is ridiculous.

Shard: You’re ridiculous.

Glitch: Also, this round is only about our family circumstances. At least your family histories don’t necessitate monthly hospital check-ins. Thanks for the bum brain, Daddio!

Kent: Your brain isn’t bum.

Glitch smirks, façade of bitterness falling away now that he’s achieved his goal of being complimented.

Glitch: Because I’m a genius, right?

Kent (solemnly, fully aware that he’s being manipulated): Right.

Grayson: Still, I don’t think that our pasts are something we should be competing over.

Ambrose: Agreed.

Glitch: You two only say that because Gray has led a charmed life, and Rosy doesn’t want to talk about his sister.

Ambrose: Parker. That’s enough.

Shard: Parker isn’t wrong, however.

For a long moment, no one dares to speak. The air is fraught with tension until . . .

Nick: Then I declare myself the winner!

Sally: Declaration rejected.

Glitch: You grew up rich with two parents who loved you and an adorable, still-alive little sibling. That’s not even enough to place bronze.

Nick: Two words: Vengeance Button.

Sally: Oof.

Kent: . . .

Glitch: I concede their existance to be a semi-valid argument.

Sally: Then do I get points as well? Since Button is my best friend.

Glitch: Maybe half a point? This round is supposed to be about our families.

Sally: Button is as much my family as my dads.

Ambrose: I’m leaving.

Shard: Coward.

Jo: No one’s leaves until I announce the winner.

Ambrose: Then announce it already.

Glitch: *drumroll noises*

Sally: Ignore the author; she’s pretending to be in control again. This is a democracy.

Nick: Should we put it to a vote, then?

Grayson: Is this really something we should be voting on?

Sally: Yes.

Nick: Yes.

Glitch: Hell yes.

Ambrose: No.

Kent: . . .

Grayson: It feels in bad taste.

Ambrose: It is in bad taste.

Nick: Well, we can stop talking about it if we vote.

Sally: I vote for Button, then.

Shard scoffs.

Nick: I vote for Gray.

Glitch: Why the hell would you vote for Ritchie-Rich?

Nick: I wanted him to feel included.

Grayson: Thank you, but I’m perfectly content to not be in the running.

Glitch: The only thing bad ever to happen to Little Lord Fauntleroy was the death of his first pony.

Grayson: I never owned a pony.

Glitch: Thoroughbred horse, then.

Grayson: . . . Her name was Black Beauty.

Glitch: For real?

Grayson: No.

Ambrose and Nick both chuckle, then glare at each other.

Nick: Does anyone even know enough about Kim to vote for him?

Shard: I do.

Nick: Fuck off, you brain parasite. No one cares what you have to say.

Shard: Such a child.

Nick: A child who you almost killed!

Jo, clearing throat: Keep on topic, kiddos. Story Events aren’t until Round 3.

Ambrose: This author is sick and twisted.

Shard: Hypocrite.

Kent, quietly: I want this to be over.

Glitch, expression guilty, stares at Kent. Some events, even dark humor shouldn’t touch.

Glitch: You know what? I’ve changed my mind. This competition is stupid.

Sally: That’s quite the one-eighty. Afraid that you won’t win?

Ambrose: There's no victory to be found in something like this.

Glitch: Agreed Let’s move on.

Grayson: I’d love nothing more, but the author said that—

Glitch, glaring at everyone except Kent: We’ve already established that the author isn’t in control. This topic is getting dropped.

Kent: Thanks, Ferro.