[SHORT STORY] Free 2 Play

Important Author’s Note: For all the Vice Men stories so far, check out the Puff You website to experience a more immersive experience with these characters and their unique world—especially on PC!

The following tale stars Piper Cobb.

Balancing the books for The Vice Men was a simple task. Subtract expenses, account for the next gig, divide profit up evenly among all of my bandmates, put a fork in it, she’s done. The PC did most of the work for me.

Balancing my personal checkbook was much more difficult. No matter what I’d set aside for my monthly play money, I always underestimated how much I’d lose at the casino tables. And, if I should somehow manage to avoid those gilded halls for four weeks, I’d end up blowing too much on rare cigarette trading cards via BayBid.

“Mister Piper Cobb, you’ll drain yourself dry if you keep doing this,” I muttered as I stared down my bank balance for the beginning of the month. Four hundred dollars less than it should be. My long ears drooped lower the further I scrolled in my online statement. The automatic log for expenses exposed every vice I had: casino tokens, auction wins, all the packs of smokes I sucked down...

Cigarettes were, of course, non-negotiable. As for the rest, there was a distraction that would keep me occupied for the rest of the month, and it wouldn’t cost me a cent.

I clicked the url bar and tapped in “www.ze.” The rest of the site autopopulated: www.zeezos.cmrc.

I cannot believe I got pulled into this silly children’s game.

I’d heard of the site in passing for a long time and never understood where the fifty million accounts came from. Why waste time ritually clicking virtual “pets” that were static graphics? An amusement too simple for my tastes, or so I’d thought.

My opinion of browser games had abruptly changed four years ago, and it all started with spotting a familiar head with a mass of curly white fur atop it at the West Herd City public library.

“What on earth are you doing here?” I hissed at my bandmate, Ash Tapper.

“I could ask the same of you,” the petite white alpaca man said without taking his teal eyes off the screen. His long, spear-shaped ears rose and fell as if he were focused on something very demanding. I followed his line of sight to see a neat array of small cartoon fruits, candies, and breads on the screen. The grunt I let out must have shown my confusion, because he explained: “My laptop’s in the shop, so I came here to feed my ZeeZos.”

“ZeeZos?” I wrinkled my long llama nose. “Do people still play that?”

“I do. Twenty years without a single pet death.” The strained quality to his words told me he was holding his outdoor voice back.

I looked back at the screen to find the cursor flitting back and forth between three different cartoon animals. The plastic chains on Ash’s studded bracelet clacked against the mouse with each movement.

“I suppose you’re feeding them right now,” I said.

“Yep.”

“And this is mountains of fun for you.”

“Yep.”

“How droll.”

A few more clicks. Another array of images appeared, this one containing blocks, balls, rubber ducks...

“I presume those toys are to keep the little hairballs entertained,” I said.

“You’re a genius, professor!” Ash said. “What would the band ever do without your valuable insight?”

I had a quip that would no doubt impress him, but a familiar shape on the screen made it vanish from the tip of my tongue. I leaned forward and pushed my glasses into place.

“Is that what I think it is?” I asked in a low voice.

“Ooh, good catch,” Ash said, clicking on a little pink rectangle. “I can make a killing reselling this Princess Squee-bo card at the Trading Post.”

“Trading?” My long ears pricked up automatically at the thought of a virtual version of my long-time hobby. Then I growled. What was wrong with me? “No! Not the princess whatever card. On the bottom left. The silver thing.”

“The cigarette lighter?” Ash turned his head to face me with a smirk. “It’s a toy for your pet.”

“Excuse me? What kind of children’s game uses a lighter as a toy?”

“Why don’t you join me and find out? I could use a battle buddy.”

Four years later, I’d become one of the most active players on the site. Today would be day 543 in my current login streak.

That lighter was bait for sinners worldwide. Just like the real thing!

I had but a single ZeeZo: a cartoon pig called an Oink-Way. His body was blue and yellow from electricity powers I’d worked far too long to grant him. I’d named him “Butterball” since all the other names I wanted to use were taken. The silly name had caught thousands of players by surprise in the War Arena, where I regularly charred many a virtual pet.

ooButterballoo says: Yum! I could go for more cheese pizza!

“No you couldn’t.” I furrowed my brow at the text beneath my pet. “Your hunger is at maximum.”

You’re talking to a jpeg, Piper.

Grateful I lived alone, I hopped onto the auction hub and typed in “Gray Smokescreen.” The virtual trading card had evaded me for months. I had over three million Zeecoins stashed away for when it finally appeared.

Hmmm. That might not be enough. If it only appears for auction once every three months, with the inflation rate where it is...

An envelope icon appeared at the top of the screen. Someone had just sent me a message.

To: GamblinMan777

From: xcoolgalx

how the [frog] did you find all those cigarette items for your gallery?? teach me o wise camel!!

The message was meant to be funny. It just made me angrier. I needed that smokescreen card in my collection yesterday. It would look so nice nestled between my potted desert twine and my rare gold-plated lighter.

I must resort to child’s play.

I drummed my fingers on the desk as I loaded up a game of shells, the slightly-fairer ZeeZos version of three-card monte. It cost 100 ZeeCoins for a single play. Left, left, right, middle...

Tension in my long fingers. Sweat on my brow. Somehow I’d already played twenty games of shells and only won once. I was down by 1600 ZeeCoins.

No matter. I’ll just open up a game with different odds.

Dozens of games of 21, Zee Slots, and Wonder Roulette, and the next hour was gone. By this time my eyebrow was jumping on its own and the computer mouse felt clammy. Down to one million ZeeCoins from three. I’d never get the Gray Smokescreen card at this rate!

One more. Just once.

With more than a little anxiety I loaded up a game of shells. The coconuts felt as if they were mocking me. Licking my dry lips, I pressed the center shell and braced myself.

JACKPOT! 7000 ZeeCoins are yours!

I slumped, threw my head back, and let out a huge sigh. A hefty win to end my session. That was all I asked for!

A buzz sounded from near my left hand. I flipped open my phone to see camel bandmate Winston on the caller ID.

“Piper, you up for a jam session tonight? I’ve got a free evening and my guitar’s a-callin’,” his gentle voice asked.

“Well...”

A throbbing in my index finger and a set of shaking palms told me that plucking bass guitar strings was out of the question until the next morning.

“I can’t make it. I may have indulged in ZeeZos a bit too hard today.”

“ZeeZos!” There was the sound of a palm smacking a face on the other end of the line. “That’s the third time this month. What do you see in that game?”

“I told you already,” I said with more than a little annoyance. “It distracts me from gambling!”