WELCOME TO GAME RULES, where musicians stretch their muscles and athletes tune their instruments. Please wait to be seated.
The curtain opens like a candy wrapper to sweet words: GRAFFITI IN BATHROOM STALL IS CLOSER THAN IT APPEARS. Lose a turn. The bouncer requests proper identification as a respected member of society, only to get a pie to the face and a bill the next morning. The enemy is spotted at 9 o’clock, dalmatian-like, but without the makeup. SEC. 1771. It is unlawful to bear a clean face. Let’s face it, yesterday has passed, so tomorrow will fail. These are the wise words from a man that never existed. The editor rolls her eyes down a steep hill, chasing the prose into a corner. DEAD END.
Please stand. The antagonist gets his back-story–Humpty Dumpty’s. Whereas the protagonist gets her backyard converted into a graveyard. Trick question! The referee blows over into the neighboring city. Ingredients: wings, muscle power, NO TURN ON RED. Instead, raise the white flag, pluck the violet, and eat a blue-green orange. The antagonist takes the devil’s side, yet the protagonist takes THIS SIDE UP. Hint: use a can-opener. REFRIGERATE AFTER OPENING THE DOOR TO STRANGERS. The antagonist is selling cookies. STOP AHEAD. Suddenly, the protagonist buys a kilo. STOP. Look both ways before cross-dressing.
HELP WANTED: Absurdist flash fiction readers. The tension builds when the protagonist discovers the antagonist’s antics. Spoiler: at the end, the protagonist dies of old age. Meanwhile, the antagonist pulls out an ace of spades which does nothing to the chess match, though the four-pawed opponent knows not any better. The checkered board waves fabric-like. Jackpot! The protagonist wins the race to the toilet. PUBLIC BATHROOM PERMIT REQUIRED. Call for a nurse. Will the protagonist’s essay, Game Rules, end with a bang? Cast in the votes. Then expect nothing. To continue, INSERT TOKEN.
NO VACANCY. Skip ahead with passport in hand.
Welcome to the next part. CAUTION: A chain of ducks have gotten loose, slipping out of the story. The four characters so far mentioned jump into their emergency duck costumes and dive into the pond, nearly drowning. NO DIVING INTO CONCLUSIONS. The lifeguard reveals the pond is a holographic representation of a court hearing currently in session. The four make their way out of their bodies and into the astral field. DANGER. How does the antagonist spell curse? The same way the antagonist spellbound the protagonist into this non sequitur. The audience in another story delivers a standing ovation.
ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK. Cite the references, then–means next. Next in line is the protagonist, but that is of little importance. To confirm, SIGN HERE__________________________. The antagonist loses his pen followed by his arms and legs over a bet, except not really. BEWARE OF DOG. Having only taken Elementary Barking, the antagonist misunderstands the rules to hide-and-go-seek. Any questions? The protagonist asks the antagonist out on a date, today’s date. The following day is not here yet. SORRY FOR ANY INCONVENIENCE.
If the protagonist’s Game Rules were a dish, what would it taste like? False. To retrieve water, turn the faucet handle as shown in Fig. 12 of the mind. The antagonist follows the instructions stalker-like. EMPLOYEES MUST WASH HANDS, whereas those unemployed need not apply, ever. Regardless, the washroom remains in use despite its lack of faucet, toilet, and walls. ATTENTION: The fourth wall is broken beyond repair. Exactly this is written on a long aerial banner. The protagonist jumps out of its airplane without a hula hoop, but why have one in the first place? Those are only for second and third place winners.
Speaking of elephants, send this manuscript to at least ten trash cans, else toasted bread will be a thing of the past. The present tense is here. The winner is the player with the most fingers. Bang! Who shot the antagonist? EXIT.