Young Writers Society

Mel copied Jerica's smirk and leaned back on her chair, eyeing Lordy. Whatever effects she was feeling from the totally-not-alcohol was finally subsiding.

"Aw, Lordy, don't be a party-pooper," Mel said. "Oh wait, just kidding, you're not a party pooper. I've seen your sweet dance moves. Can I see you do the thing with your legs again?"

"Wait, does this mean we're allowed to stop speaking in questions?" Jerica asked, realizing Lordy and Mel were both speaking in statements with no apparent consequences. And also realizing that she wasn't quite sure how to snarl at him for the "my dear" and still phrase it as a question.

"These old bones allow me one good dance move a night," Lordy waved his hands and tilted his head towards them, "Unless of course someone can find me some more rum?"

Mel squinted at Jerica. "Yyyyyes?" she said, now not sure herself. "Mmm. Yes. Of course... I think. Also..."

She twirled her finger and Lordy's flask then reappeared out of thin air at the empty spot of his chair.

"That's yours, right?"

Lordy eyed the flask that seemed to appear out of nowhere near him. The smarter part of him wanted to believe it was a trick, however, the part of him that actually existed was fueled by alcoholism and desperation, and as a result he reached for the liquor.

"Well I'll be darned, remind me to-" The flask whooshed away as his fingers touched it, "Kill you."

Mel giggled as Lordy's fingers went right through the flask, and as soon as it did, she had the flask turn to bubbles before disappearing high up in the air.

"Sassy man is back!" Mel said with a sly smile. "You make all your threats sound like a walk in the park."

Lordy shook his head, "Listen, there are two things you don't mess around with. A man's heart, and a man's alcohol. Got it, junior?"

Mel stared up at Lordy's head, not seeing any hair tuft out from under his hat.

"What about a man's hair?" she said with a smirk.

"Well unless you're offering to fix it for me you have no place to judge, do you?" Lordy looked down at his fingers, "I could definitely go for a manicure right now."

"Let's give it up for Mel and Simon!" K.K. Slider suddenly said, interrupting all conversation in the back stage. Why he had paused this long in the show to allow the bickering to happen, who knows.

The crowd cheered, and K.K. silenced them by putting a paw up in the air while grinning. As much as a dog was able to grin, anyways.

"In the first round, our contestants actively avoided questions and drinking. In the second round, our contestants didn't break a single rule, but drank out of free will and lost. What will it be in our third round?"

As K.K. talked, Carter and Hildegarde's chairs swiveled to the front of the stage.

"Let's find out in... ROUND THREE!" K.K. continued.

Q & SHOT!

Just like the previous rounds, the lights and music suddenly all cut out as silence filled the air for a few long seconds. And then...

Lights. Camera. Action!



Music suddenly boomed around the stage as Carter and Hildegarde was revealed to be on a beach wearing their favorite swim gear. On one hand was an ice cream cone, and on the other hand was a mojito that smelled suspiciously too minty.



Around the beach were many multicolored alien animals walking the shoreline or tanning, and there was a red and blue monkey playing volleyball. Even though they were inside, the sun above them was sweltering hot and made the mojito in their hands look really appealing.

K.K. was dressed in flops and a Hawaiian shirt as he whistled the tune in the background, watching them from a distance.

"And the round starts... NOW!" he said.

Carter sat very still as he looked at the drink he held in one hand, and the slow-melting dessert in the other. He hadn't seen something quite like it before, but at this point, it paled in comparison to the dozens of other bizarre things he saw - K.K. Slider was still at the top of that list. He still wasn't over how freakish the talking dog was.

He was a little surprised though, that the scene change came with a costume change as well. Of course, he didn't let the shock show. Now, he was shirtless and wearing simple shorts that cut off at his knees. He was nothing if not ready to feign comfort and confidence at any time, and this moment was no exception.

With a relaxed posture, he leaned back into the chair and looked over to Hildegarde.

"Are you ready to show the others what a real competition looks like?"

Hildegarde looked back at Carter in her faded yellow sundress that she wore to go bathing in the river near her house, or more recently, swimming alongside the Kraken's Lullaby. The hot sun reminded her unpleasantly of the tropical waters where they had recently fought their ship's namesake. Give her a crisp breeze any day.

All this served to distract her from the ominous drink she suddenly held in one hand and the strange cold cone in the other. But after watching the two previous rounds, Hildegarde felt like she had a pretty good idea of how this was supposed to go. At least this round wasn't subjective — all she had to do was only speak in questions.

And speak in questions she would, because she had no intention of drinking... whatever that drink was. She suspected that even if she tried to pour it into her Tankard of Sobriety, it wouldn't make much of a difference.

So she looked back at Carter and, careful to add the proper inflection, asked, "Do you think we are evenly matched?"

"Is that not what this whole game is about?" Carter asked with a small smirk. He looked down at the melting dessert in his right hand, pursing his lips thoughtfully. "Do you think this is spiked, perhaps?"

Hildegarde looked at the cone in her hand. "These things are edible?"

"You think so?" Carter asked, glancing at her and then the cone. "Would they give us something inedible dressed up as food? Surely, they wouldn't be that cruel, right?"

His sarcasm, of course, was coming through with cutting clarity in his tone.

"Would you really put it past the talking dog to avoid such trickery?"

Then he turned the cone upside-down to see what would happen.