Flurry [Ben Parish]

Go Fish and Toothpaste

A woman of my word, I sat down with Nugget and taught him how to shuffle a deck of cards that very same night. He was a quick learner, something I'm hoping applies to every aspect of his life, and now half of Squad 53 is sitting on the floor of the barracks and playing 'go fish', of all things.

Poundcake is winning by a long shot. He just points at another player and then at his cards and Dumbo does all the talking for him. Flintstone, on the other hand, is the worst 'go fish' player I've ever seen. He quit after ten minutes of astronomical failure.

"Snow, Poundcake wants the eights we know you're hoarding," Dumbo says. I groan and hand over the three cards, sticking my tongue out childishly as Cake smugly lays down the set.

"Alright, Nugget do you have any twos?"

"Go fish."

"Damn it," I frown.

In the end Poundcake won, Teacup ripped the five of diamonds in half in anger, and Nugget successfully learned how to shuffle. All in all, a pretty nice night in Barrack 10.

Zombie and I stand side by side in the bathroom before lights out. I'm practically ripping out my hair trying to work through all the tangles and he's brushing his teeth when we make eye contact in the mirror. He mumbles something incoherent and I scrunch my nose in confusion and disgust as toothpaste drips down his chin and hits the floor with a sickening 'splat'.

"Dude, you're disgusting." I hit his shoulder with my brush and take one large step away from him. "Spit and try again."

Zombie shrugs, spits into the sink, and wipes his chin with the back of his hand, smiling that awkward close-lipped smile all the while. "I can't believe you lost 'go fish' to an eight year old."

Scowling, I stomp on his toes. Zombie never wears socks to sleep, something I can never understand because my feet are always cold. Especially when the floor is cement, like in the barracks. "Fuck you, buddy. Poundcake is ridiculously good."

"You know, I'm starting to think that this is an overly abusive relationship."

"What are you gonna do, report me?"

"I could."

"Oh please," I laugh. "And say what, exactly? 'Private Snowflake stomped on her squad leader's foot because he was being a cheeky little bastard'? I think Reznik would actually congratulate me."

Later that night, before I can drift off and let the day's exhaustion catch up to me, a small voice cuts through the silence.

"Zombie?" It's Nugget, because he hasn't been enough of a pain in the ass today.

"No talking after lights out," Zombie whispers back.

In the barracks everything echoes, especially at night, so even though they're whispering, I can hear every word as clear as day. If the rumors that the barracks are bugged are true, then Reznik can too. Which means the longer they talk, the closer the whole squad comes to a month of kitchen duty.