Death by Cliché by Bob Defendi Read Free Book Online Page B

glassmaker’s shop.
    They stepped inside, around cozy tables and across squeaky floorboards. They selected a table in the corner because that’s what one did when entering a bar during an adventure. Damico gestured for Lotianna to sit in the actual corner because that was proper manners (Encyclopedia Brown had taught him that, and nothing good could come from doubting Encyclopedia Brown). He sat with his back to the room. He could only assume he had a lot of ranks in Hear Noise.
    The barmaid bounced over and smiled down at their table. She did resemble a cheerleader, although Damico couldn’t put his finger on exactly how. Was it the single pig tail? The anachronistic chewing gum? He somehow knew this poor woman was based on some real-world person at Carl’s high school and that she’d sleep with any person at this table, especially Lotianna, at the slightest pass. Damico felt bad about his earlier cheerleader thoughts. It was one thing to be insulting to a stereotype, it was another to be confronted by an actual person.
    She wore a tan dress and a white apron, and her breast size was somewhere between outlandish and outright impossible. She must have worn an antigravity bra.
    Her eyes were hollow like the windows of a condemned house. This wasn’t just the absence of a mind. There was no soul .
    She was a Non-Player Character, a bit player in the world, run by the game master. He’d never seen such a clear indication.
    “May I take your order?” she said in a voice that was seductive. That voice, coming from under those eyes was creepy. Creepy like a little boy that never smiles, uses perfect grammar, and calls his parents “Paul” and “Mary” when those aren’t their names.
    “I’ll have an ale,” Damico said.
    Gorthander and Omar ordered the same. Lotianna ordered a wine which they inexplicably kept in stock. Omar didn’t hit on her. Evidently role-playing a seduction with Carl was the creepiest thing of all.
    She started to walk away, but just then, her eyes lit up. They came alive like the eyes at the end of the movie version of The Pit and the Pendulum . With horror.
    Yet that horror didn’t touch the rest of her face. She flirted for several more moments, and no one else seemed to notice. Then she turned away, her eyes pleading, and went for drinks.
    And why hadn’t anyone else noticed? This was Carl’s character, after all. This wouldn’t have happened if Carl didn’t want it to happen. Maybe he’d been the only one to make their Spot skill check.
    Still, this seemed awfully subtle for Carl.
    As they sat there, a new person approached their table—Damico did have ranks in Hear Noise, obviously. A man approached, dressed in brown leggings and a green Robin Hood tunic. He wore no hat but carried a sword and a strung bow, because in the world of role-playing, bows never lost their spring from being strung too long.
    “May I sit with you?”
    His face was open, friendly, and mildly attractive. He had salt and pepper hair. He was clean shaven in a way that usually required an entire industrial base, but Damico didn’t worry about shaving creams and manufactured razors; he was more interested in this new person who acted like a Player Character.
    “By all means,” Damico said, wondering how Carl had tricked someone else to his table.
    “My name is Jurkand,” the man said.
    “Your dad lose a bet?” Damico asked.
    “He lost a great many bets,” Jurkand said, “and I had the misfortune of looking like him when I was born.”
    “Ah,” Damico said. “You want to join us on our next adventure?”
    “Nothing like that,” Jurkand said. “I just wanted to meet the man who made the barmaid’s eyes light up like that.”
    “Is this some kind of a sick joke?” Damico asked. The other people at the table looked confused.
    “Not at all,” Jurkand said. Despite the invitation, he hadn’t sat down. “I think I’ll be on my way.”
    He gave Damico a special wink, the kind of wink shared with