Second Tuesday of November

No one knew how the event really started. Between a few beverages at the bar, maybe? Notes passed carefully on the street? Or, perhaps a secret meetup at early hours of the day? Whatever the root source was, we were here now on the second Tuesday of November. Nervous, but also absorbed by the allure.

From an unknown corner of the room, comes an unexpected, yet pronounced tone, “Welcome, all, to the Twenty-Seventh Annual Underground Truth-or-Dare Tournament!” A steady uproar emerges from the teams gathered around the dank, shadowy, factory basement.

When the cheers eventually lessen to a small murmur, the announcer proceeds.

“Now for the rules:

#1. Only contestants who have agreed to all of the game rules are allowed to compete.

#2. Each of your four team members must complete a truth-or-dare challenge before the team can advance to the next stage.

#3. When a contestant loses a challenge or does not complete the task by the end of the round, they are out of the game and the rest of the team has less members to move forward.

#4. Refusal to answer a query or do a dare equals prompt removal from the game.

And lastly, the contestant that completes the last successful truth-or-dare challenge takes home the trophy and reward money!

The contest commences now!”

***

What a crazy adventure we’ve just begun! Our team prepares for the lead-off task, as a referee approaches us.

“Truth or Dare?”

We exchange hasty glances between us, then as usual, Carlos steps up, “No problem. Dare!”

“We dare you to eat a grasshopper.”

“E-a-s-y!” Carlos drags out the word. He has never been a stranger to unusual foods. As he crunches the body, we can see the legs dangle before he devours the rest. “What was that about four seconds?” he jokes.

“Gross,” Nova declares, as she rolls her eyes. She’s up next and concludes that Truth could be a better preference. “Truth,” she lets the referee know and gets ready to answer.

“What do you do most Saturdays?”

She had a thought that her weekend endeavors could come up for the game, so she was prepared to embarrass herself for the team.

“My Saturdays are spent at my Nana’s house. We sew and watch old BBC shows.” The referee seems content at her response, and no one laughs, so that’s a plus.

Forgot to say, we are all attached to a “truth detector” to ensure our answers are truthful. No untruths or half-truths accepted.

My turn now. “Dare”

The ref checks her notepad and says, “We dare you to prank call the cops.”

“Oh, done that before, haven’t we, Melaney?” Nova blurts out.

“Guess that’s not too bad.” What to say though?

Beep, boop, beep…

“Hello, what’s your emergency?”

Note to self: Add some concern and urgency to your tone. “Yes! Please help! My cat…my cat, he’s been attacked by a raccoon! Have to go, please hurry!” (End call)

We can’t help but laugh after the call has ended. Hope they can’t trace my number though. Anyway, another task checked off for the team.

Next up, D (real name: Dante, but we rarely use that anymore).

“D stands for Dare,” he chuckles.

“You are dared to eat a super hot pepper.”

“Can do,” Dante announces, and we have no doubt that he can. “Never been one to refuse a chance to set my tastebuds ablaze.” More eye rolls from the three of us.

***

The next few rounds are much of the same:

“Have you ever cheated on a test?”

“We dare you to pour syrup on your head.”

“You are dared to eat a cow's eyeball.”

“Have you ever stolen from a store?”

“Who’s a person you really hate?”

“We dare you to push a needle through your hand.”

On and on the challenges go. The twenty-seven teams slowly decrease to twenty, then eleven, and now we are down to only three teams left.

***

My last challenge, to shave part of my head, was a clear-cut “no,” so our team only has three members now, but that’s okay because the other two teams are down to one or two contestants. Advantage: us.

Round seven starts:

Nova takes the plunge, “Dare.”

“You are dared to eat a whole portobello mushroom.” Seems pretty easy, yeah? But, Nova absolutely hates mushrooms, so they’ve clearly done some homework on each of the contestants to use for the later rounds.

“Don’t let them freak you out,” encourages Carlos.

“Yeah, we know you won’t let us down!” adds D

“Okay, here goes.” A look of resolve settles on her face as she grabs her adversary and chomps down. The meaty texture and earthy taste are almost too much to bear. There’s a small gag, but then she presses on. She won’t let a fungus defeat her, not today. A quarter of the way through…deep breath…and now halfway. Nova sneaks a peek at us, before her focus returns to her challenge. One last chunk stares up at her, and Nova refuses to be the reason they lose. She crams the rest of the toadstool through her open mouth, swallows, and then shows the referee.

“Way to go, No!”

“Yeah, good work to start us off strong for round seven!”

“Who’s next?” asks the ref.

“Serve up the next challenge!” Carlos seems pretty self-assured at the moment, “Dare.” He has done well so far for the Dares.

“We dare you to hold a tarantula for one hundred seconds.” The referee almost laughs when she sees Carlos’s sudden face change.

The rest of us can sense the surge of Carlos’s heartbeat, so we try whatever we can to keep our comments upbeat.

“One hundred seconds, Carlos. That’s less than our Hot Pockets take to cook,” D’s commentary clearly meant to offer some humor to the stressful scene.

Carlos attempts to conceal the shakes as the tarantula gets removed from the cage. Carlos’s eyes dart from the enormous, furry creature to our faces repeatedly.

“You ready?” the ref asks, expectantly.

“Don’t look at the tarantula, Carlos. Just stare at my eyes.” Only way for me to support the team now would be to help keep them focused.

Hands steady, calm breath, stare at Mel’s eyes. Hands steady, calm breath, stare at Mel’s eyes.

Carlos repeats the mantra over and over. He feels several legs make contact and does all that he can to stay frozen. One by one, the seconds creep on, as does the tarantula. Carlos gazes at Melaney’s crystal blue eyes and almost forgets the awful pest below. Almost.

The referee counts down the seconds: twelve, eleven, ten…

“Ahhh!!” Carlos shakes both hands as the tarantula somersaults across the room. A small, red puncture mark has appeared on Carlos’s palm.

“Sorry, you’re out, buddy,” the ref reports, condolences shown on her face.

***

The sudden reemergence of the tournament’s announcer throws some people off guard. “We are down to our last TWO teams for the contest. May the most resolute player prove themselves worthy.”

“Well, only one of us left for the round, and that’s me,” offers D, “So let’s try Truth.”

“What has always been your worst fear?” the referee asks, an eyebrow arched.

D goes mute, eyes glazed over and hands start to tremble. We all know the secret that has troubled D for many years, but to reveal that fear to anyone else, seems torturous for Dante. He hasn’t been able to speak about that day for years. Can we really ask that he go that far just for a game?

After what feels to be hours, more notably for Dante surely, he surveys our concerned faces. Concerned, to be clear, for D, not for the game.

“You don’t need to say a word, D,” reassures Nova.

“We can just all go now. The game can only get worse from here,” my own thoughts worry what could be next.

“No. Nova has a good chance to reach the end, so we can’t take that from her.” D turns to the referee, as the gruesome scene from many years ago haunts the thoughts he now has, “Refuse to answer.”

“Well, not what we had expected,” she makes a note on her scoresheet, “but we carry on.”

Almost on cue, a loud groan can be heard from a few tables away. The other team has lost the last challenge.

That only leaves Nova! The rules state that she has to be the last one to complete a task, so one more to go.

Nova’s deep breath serves to help calm us all.

“Truth or Dare?” the referee requests.

Nova evaluates her quandary, then strongly states, “Truth.” The mushroom dare from last round may have swayed her somewhat.

“You can only save one of your teammates from a flood. Who would you choose?”

“What happens to the other two?”

“You can probably guess,” the ref responds and offers a somber head shake.

Nova seems to work, very slowly, through all the probable outlooks. “Well, no…” “What about…won’t work.” “Could choose…hmm?”

As she ponders further, she starts to become more and more upset. “Honestly, how do you expect me to make that type of judgment call?”

“Does that mean you refuse to answer?” the referee gauges Nova’s response.

“No, that’s not her answer!” D jumps to Nova’s defense.

Nova understands what she says next, 1. loses the tournament for the team or 2. forever alters these bonds she has taken years to create. Why had she chosen Truth? Can the others tell how much she’s struggled today? At least they don’t know the end result.

“We need an answer,” the referee has started to get restless after hours of challenges.

Tears stream down her face, as she answers weakly, “D.”

The referee checks the “truth detector” and marks her notepad, then beams, “Congrats, Nova, please follow me! And D, you can come too.”

We watch Nova and D walk towards the small stage at the far end of the basement. Maybe the stage doesn’t have enough room for all of us. Not a huge deal. We’ll get to see the trophy and money soon enough.

The tournament announcer returns to the stage and declares Nova the champ. “Congrats, Nova! You have outlasted everyone to take home the Twenty-Seventh Annual Underground Truth-or-Dare Tournament trophy and TWO HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS!”

At that exact moment, the stage separates and gradually advances towards the rafters above. Although the shock that crosses D’s face appears real, the look on Nova’s face couldn’t be more obscured. A merger of sadness, embarrassment, and shame reveals her true betrayal.

Stunned, we race towards the stage, but Carlos stops short. He undoubtedly understands that we won’t make the platform, and my heart suddenly plummets. As Nova and D escape through the narrow chasm, Carlos turns to me, and we share one last, desperate glance before gallons of water start to pour through the vents above us.