I sit, fidgeting. Looking around, I am dismayed by the lack of familiar faces. The guy sitting next to me, he looks like a frat boy freshman, is doing the same thing and fidgeting about.
He seems more excited than I was.
“Welcome!” the woman sings as she enters the room. Everyone’s eyes follow as she steps into the center of our circle.
“I’m so happy that you guys signed up!” she smiles.
I roll my eyes. I told Joey I was too old for these things, but he wouldn’t let up. He said this was a good opportunity for me, and I was stupid enough to believe him.
Frat boy freshman over here… he looks like he’s having a good time.
“Now since you guys have just met, we’ve thought of a fun way for you to get to know each other!”
People with name tags come in and start distributing pieces of paper. A girl hands one over to me; in bold letters reads “BINGO”.
“That’s right!” the woman squeals. “You guys are gonna be playing human bingo!”
She claps. I hear grunts.
“The rules are simple. Written inside the boxes are descriptions of specific persons. All you have to do is find out who it is and let him sign his name under his description!”
They start distributing the pencils.
“Do we really have to do this?” the elderly man across from my chair asks. Ah, brother from another mother.
“Well, the first one to fill out all the boxes wins!”
“What’s the prize?” frat boy freshman asks. I knew it; of course he’s the only one who’s interested.
It took about a second before it clicked, and when it did, I quickly turned my eyes back to my paper. I guess the others did the same, as everyone has become silent at that point.
“Good luck!” the woman laughs as she closes the door behind her.
My eyes dash from word to word, my heart pounding inside my chest. I think I just might have a heart attack.
I look up and scan the room; I bet it’s that guy with the thick eyebrows. I know his type.
It’s the Mexican. He has gold teeth for God’s sake.
That guy in the corner. Okay, I got this.
Frat boy freshman. Who else?
Probably the old guy from across?
Hmm, maybe this is frat boy freshman. College kids like to burn stuff, right? So who’s the psycho killer? The old dude?
Christ, how the fuck am I supposed to know?
I can feel beads of sweat forming as I hear chairs being pushed back. People have started standing up and approaching one another.
Some are wary, some are proud, most are pissed, but all of them are pointing at a particular box.
That box right there, dead in the center.
My description. My box. My coffin.