Snake Eyes

The rules of Basilisk are simple. And people like simple things.

The "Emperor" of each round chooses a number between four and eight, and puts that many chips in the pot. Every other player must choose whether they want to match the bet, raise it by 1 for everyone  (including anyone who had already put in their chips) or stay out of that round. Starting from the Emperor and going clockwise, each "in" player rolls one or two six-sided dice, their choice. If they don't roll the same number on both dice, they take that many chips from the pot. Once everyone has taken from the pot, the remaining chips are discarded properly and the game moves on.

Two more rules, or rather, things to avoid. You don't want to roll higher than what's left in the pot, or you'll face a tough decision. And you don't want to roll snake eyes. No matter what, you don't roll snake eyes.

A simple game, for simple people. Rules vary slightly from table to table, depending on how high players want the stakes to be. As long as you discard the chips properly, and as long as you don't roll snake eyes.

Tonight, we see four of these simple people in an old-fashioned bar, with all the works. A fading neon sign out front, a bartender polishing a glass behind the counter, a pool table with its green fabric ripped, and a healthy burning hearth illuminating the whole room. These four people were using the pool table for their humble game of Basilisk. 

The table felt awfully big now, without Jim. But rules are rules.

There was Adam, who always wore his bowler hat and always made the best bets. Some people who played him said he was psychic, but his friends just thought he was lucky. 

There was Theodore, who drank too much and bet too much, always raising the stakes with a gap-toothed grin. He'd been like that since he lost his wife, who didn't survive the return of the old gods.

There was Nick, who quit cigarettes a few months ago and sucks on candy pops instead, the little white stick constantly poking through his coarse beard hair. It was strange, but nobody had the guts to call him out on it. He had been a soldier of the losing side, and that's the kind of person nobody wanted to mess with.

And there was Gary, with long wispy hair and fashion choices that made everyone wonder about the real reason he'd never had a girlfriend. Nobody said anything about it, though. That sort of thing didn't matter anymore.

They all took a drink from their bottles of bear, and they started Round One with thirty $10 chips each.

Adam was the Emperor first, of course. "Five," he said with a sneer.

"Six," countered Theodore. 

"I'll do six," responded Nick.

Gary looked at his emerald green chips, and shrugged. "Six it is."

Twenty four chips in the pot. Two hundred forty dollars at stake. Not all that much, really, but it was more about tradition than money. And more than tradition, it was about passing the time, and having some kind of thrill in what remained of the world. They could take your guns, your homes, your families, and maybe even your humanity. But they could never take your games, so games they played.

Adam rolled twice. "One and three. God damn it." He took four from the pot and sulked.

"Has the wizard finally - hic - lost his magic?" Theodore rolled, looked, frowned. "One and FOUR? Stupid dice. They hate me."

Nick rolled as well. "One and four too," he grunted. "Looks like we're all losing money here. Unless…I assume Gary doesn't want to take the chance?"

Gary shook his head and wordlessly rolled a single die. "Four."

"Could be worse," said Adam. 

He picked the six remaining chips on the table and tossed it into the fire. Adam watched as the flames licked the little disks. He smiled, knowing that some of his money was burning in the process. It was a sacrifice that had to be made, he knew. That's what people didn't understand - sacrifices always had to be made. And people never would understand, because people never changed.

Since the dawn of time, all people did was avoid sacrifice. At least Basilisk players had to embrace it, to a certain degree.

"Though," Adam added with a wide smile. "now I feel like these dice might be loaded. Or maybe they were just meant to land that way. Theodore, you're the new emperor."

"Hic, six."

"Of course," grumbled Nick. "I'll stay out this round."

Nobody dared question his decision.

"Me too," followed Gary.

"Oh, come on!" said Adam, almost instinctively. "You always fold too early. It's only six chips, and you haven't lost much more than the rest of us. Live a little!"

"Yeah, you - hic - yellow bellied coward." Theodore took a very long sip of beer. "Take the bet or I kick your little gay punk ass."

Nick looked at Gary and shook his head. This is, ironically, what convinced Gary to go through with the bet. This candy-sucking dead eyed freak wasn't his father, he thought. He wasn't some maiden in need of defense.

"I'm in," he said, and threw his six chips into the center. Adam followed suit. The pot totalled eighteen.

Theodore, as the Emperor, rolled first - and rolled well. "Eleven! Not looking great for you two - hic - you two nitwits!"

Gary looked at the seven chips remaining in the pot. It certainly wasn't looking good for him. But he could do the math. If he rolled twice, there was a one in six chance he rolled seven, and then he'd at least earn ten dollars. He might earn his money back if he rolled twice, or he might earn nothing, or even spill over. Meanwhile, if he only rolled once… 

"Don't think about it too much," purred Adam. "You've gotten this far. Go all the way or go home."

"Hic, yeah, you hic, yellow, hic, bellied-"

It was in this moment that Gary realized something about the game of Basilisk. It wasn't really about the money or whether you won or lost. He only stood to win ten dollars in profit - and so did Adam. And yet Adam was over here, goading him to take the risk that might just earn them both ten dollars. It wasn't about the money, it was proving that you had balls. That you were willing to take high risks for low rewards. Social status went farther than money, after all - just look at Nick.

In that moment, Gary's blood ran hot, and he was willing to take the risk.

"Hic, coward, hic-"

He rolled. One four, one five. Nine. He spilled over.

Gary sighed. Adam and Theodore laughed. He knew he deserved what happened next. He'd taken the risk, knowing the most likely outcome and its consequences.

"You're the snake now," slurred Theodore. "The greedy snake! Ahaha-hic!"

"Unfortunate, but at least you went for it." Adam gave Gary an uncomfortably friendly look. "So, will you embrace your serpentine greed, or will you turn back to humanity?'

Nick leaned in to Gary's ear, so close the tip of the lollipop grazed his cheek. "You understand what it means to be a snake, Gary?" he whispered.

Gary knew.

The others didn't know this, but it had happened to Gary's first boyfriend, Madison. Except Madison never played Basilisk. The game didn't exist when they were dating. The fate was forced upon Madison from a young age.

They met each other during the war. Gary remembered they were barely eighteen, fleeing the battle that razed. They were holding hands and running through the underground tunnels, trampling through puddles of grime and defunct weapons of war. They were almost out of there when one of those damn spider things with far too many eyes dropped from the ceiling and bit Madison in the shoulder.

Madison stomped it to death, but it was too late. Within moments, his skin turned rough and lime, his pupils turned to slits, and his canines thinned and lengthened. He screamed, then hissed, as his arms melted into his torso and his legs started to fuse. As Gary watched with helpless horror, Madison's forked tongue and scaly emerald throat screamed and yelled and sobbed and hissed… in agony, he begged, begged for mercy, beg for death..

…"it hurts, it hurts all over, Gary, kill me, kill me, KILL ME, don't let them take this away, DON'T LET THEM TAKE ME…"

Staring at his chips, Gary now faced a choice. To embrace that fate - and to embrace it willingly, to toss aside his humanity rather than have it forcefully stripped away…could he live with that? Could he die with that? If there was a Heaven, and Madison was watching him from above…would he tear his eyes away from Gary after this?

Basilisk is all fun and games until someone gets hurt. Until you stare into the eyes of the snake. Only now did Gary realize what this meant.

He could embrace greed, trade skin for scales, shed his humanity and stay in the game.

Or he could forfeit two hundred and forty dollars and get called a pussy.

In this new moment of clarity, the choice was obvious. What was he thinking? He was a man, no matter what these sneering, ugly faces said or thought. And he wanted it to stay that way.

Gary pushed in his remaining chips. "I'm done."

Adam was dumbfounded. "Say that again?"

"I'm done. Charity pot." Gary got up from his chair. "You win. I lose."

No, no, no! thought Adam. This isn't what was supposed to happen. This isn't what they said would happen! My sources has never been wrong. He was supposed to fall today! And then Nick was supposed to bet low, but then Theodore raises it, and then Nick and Gary are supposed to roll doubles and….

He was sweating profusely, but he tried to play it cool.

"Ooh, charity pot! Exciting!" said Adam, rubbing his hands together and adjusting his bowler hat. "Sorry it had to be this way, Gary."

Gary flipped the finger at the table without looking back.

"Hic - rude."

Nick said nothing. He just watched Gary push open the double doors, walk under the neon sign and in front of an old phone booth. He watched as Gary tried (and failed) to hail a taxi. He couldn't help a slight smile.

"Some dudes just don't know how to take a loss." Adam took a swig of beer, then quickly hid his trembling hands under the table. "I mean, me, personally, I don't see what's so bad about being a snake-man. Plenty of people thrive after a bad game of Basilisk turns them into one"

"A snake-man changed my - hic - gas the other day," said Theodore. "Just the way of things these days."

Nick noticed Adam's twitching eye. Something wasn't right.

"And what's so good about being human anyway?" Adam continued. "In the age of the old gods…we're obsolete. They're slowly replacing us…no, not replacing us, improving us. And that man…that…what'd you call him, Theodore?"

"Y…yellow bellied?"

"YELLOW BELLIED!" Adam had a good, long, tense laugh. "That's right. Yellow-bellied. Anyway, Nick, you're the Emperor now. What's your bet?"

"Three," he said, without hinting emotion.

Ah, thought Adam. At least that's going as decreed. We don't need Gary for fate to run its course after all.

"Well, I'm fine with three" he said. "But I assume Theodore's gonna raise it like usual."

"Actually, hic, let's go with three."

Adam bit his tongue. Okay. This was new. "Really?"

Nick grinned. "Even the bull tires of its stampede, Adam." 

He threw his chips in. The other two silently followed. Nick rolled, and rolled two fives.

"Damn. Not a cent for me, I guess."

Hah! thought Adam. Back on track. Victory shall be mine. As they foretold, I shall roll an eleven…or I guess a nine, in this case. It was supposed to be eleven, god damn it! Whatever. I guess they can be a little off, sometimes. Still, the dice are loaded, and they're loaded in my favor. Right? 

Snake eyes.

Fuck. 

Adam felt a chill go down his spine. Theodore's jaw fell to the floor. Even Nick wasn't unfazed.

"I'm…sorry…" said Nick. He took the candy pop out of his mouth, walked over to a trash can, and threw it away. "If there's anything we can do for you…"

"I need to make a phone call."

Nick and Theodore watched Adam get up at once and rush through the door.

"Adam…" Theodore trailed off. "I…I can't…hic....this can't..."

"Let him have his peace," said Nick. "He deserves that, at least."

So many thoughts rushed through Adam's head. He could already feel his fingers and toes numb and cramp up. He stumbled past Gary, who was having a smoke near the phone booth. 

“Adam?”

“No time, no time!” He stumbled into the phone booth, struggled to deposit a coin, and struggled to dial the right number. Dexterity was fleeing him, but he just managed to press Call and pick up the phone.

Ring, ring, ring…

“Come on, Mary…pick up, pick up…”

The call went to voicemail. “Hello, this is Mary, I’m not in the home right now, so leave a message at the tone…”

“No, no, no, Mary! Please, pick up!” he sobbed. “Please, I know I haven't been the best father…”

His hands started to lose feeling, and he was starting to turn gray. Adam felt a dull pain all over. 

“I just…Mary, I’m sorry, I just…I love you.” He let out a gravelly cough, and let tears fall down his stone-cold cheeks. “I love you, Mary, and…I wish…I wish…”

The curse reached his heart, and by that point, it was too late. Adam screamed in agony, and let go of the phone, which fell and hung idly like a man on a noose. 

Adam took one last shuddering breath before his skin and bones turned to stone, and he became as still as a statue. The last thing to turn was his eyes, which darted around in fear and regret as they slowly crystallized. Gary watched it all from behind the blurry window of the booth.

It was a sobering experience. Too sobering. Gary turned and went back into the bar.

Theodore was bawling his eyes out over the pool table. Nick was burning the old god’s share of the money. When that was done, he took his own share, went over to the bartender (who had finally finished polishing his glass) and ordered a drink. Gary went over and joined him.

They were silent for some time. Gary did not order a drink.

“Why do we play this game?” said Gary, finally. “That was over a few hundred dollars.”

“We play Basilisk because we don’t really have a choice,” Nick responded. “Even if you quit-“

“Believe me. I will.”

“-even if you quit Basilisk, you’re still playing it. You always have been, and you always will. The game we play at the pool table is merely a way to speed it up. Once you speed it up, you spice it up. It becomes kind of fun. You played with us for a while. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“I don’t know,” sighed Gary. “I feel like a different person than I was twenty minutes ago. I no longer recognize my motives for my past actions. How could I have done such a thing - gambling my life away for such little gain?”

Nick chuckled. “Ah, in my old age, I forget. The turbulence of youth. Enjoy it while you can, Gary. Enjoy it while you can.”

Gary looked back. “You think he’s still in there?”

“Huh?”

“His eyes kept moving until the very end. You think he’s still conscious?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Nick shrugged. “No one knows what happens after. Not like we can ask them. But we often try to put them out of their misery.”

“I’ll have to,” piped up the bartender. “Gotta get him out of that phone booth.”

“I’ll help you after this beer,” said Nick. “You got a sledgehammer?”

Gary paused. “I can’t believe you all,” he concluded, getting up and moving towards the door.

“Hey, you didn’t pay your tab!” yelled the bartender.

“It’s fine.” Nick pushed forward some of his earnings. “I’ll cover it.”

Gary stood outside for quite some time. Maybe I should just walk, he thought. Though there are things within the night I don’t understand. Things that might be dangerous. But at least now I understand the danger of Basilisk. And now that I do, I’m never playing again.

I promise you, Madison.

I promise.

But it didn’t matter. The snake eyes were still watching him. The snake eyes always had been watching him, and they always would.

Basilisk watches over us all.