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Double Dare

Double Dare

Imagine you’re having a party, right. A fucking rainbow party. One of those parties that gets talked about for years as people smile and their eyes glaze over.

It’s been a perfect night – someone bought like three or four kegs with them. There’s a playlist on the loudspeaker and it’s got your favourite songs on it. Your best friends are all there. You’re young, free and having fun.

You’ve been drinking for a few hours now so the group is more than a little tipsy. Let’s be fucking honest you already know you’re waking up with the mother of all hangovers tomorrow.

“Let’s play a game!” someone shouts.

Great idea.

“How about spin the bottle?”

Not so great idea, what are we, fucking 12?

“Ring of Fire?”

Unless you’re David Blaine and you carry a pack of cards around with you 24/7 then that’s not an option either.

“Truth or dare?”

Why not. What’s to lose anyway.

So the night continues. People tell you who their secret crush was, or the last time they shit the bed or whatever. Then someone gets spicy, and picks dare. There’s an audible gasp because that’s definitely worse than a few slurred truths, especially for me. I don’t really understand lying all that much. On Eden we are quite blunt and honest, so the truth part is not an issue for me. But someone daring me to do something awkward or uncomfortable?

Fuck that.

But that someone who picked dare doesn’t have the same reservations as me. They get dared to climb on the roof. And they’re not one to chicken out, so they do it. The problem is they’re a few pints deep, and their vision’s a little wobbly, and so are their legs, and it’s only a matter of time before they’re on the ground, limbs snapped at funny angles like Vecna’s had his way with them. Wrecked.

The problem is that Starboy is just like that drunken little renegade. He’s up for a good time no matter what. And Tag is just like that fucking weasel who dared him to get on the roof. There’s always someone at every fucking party just like him. Daring and double daring each other into oblivion. And I can’t be having my little rainbow party ruined, now, can I? So I have to be the fucking killjoy parent of the party, who sweeps all the red cups into a trash bag, and calls your mothers to pick you up, and maybe gets you a glass of water if you feel sick.

I don’t want to be the fucking party pooper, but when the alternative is my friend landing neck first on the driveway having slipped off the metaphorical roof then I’d do it any day. I might be the Prince of Party, but I’m Starboy’s friend first and foremost.

Why don’t you pick on someone who can see what you’re doing, Tag – I double dare you. And when I’m done you’ll be wishing you’d climbed that roof yourself, motherfucker.

So lets do it now, and do it loud!