Single Player: Humor, Love, Breast Cancer and a Gaming Girl...

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Authors: Jamie Nicole
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officially bypassed our longest time apart and still counting. We’re on a full Ashton blackout over here and as you can imagine neither I nor Master Chief are handling this friendship stonewall very well.  Late at night I’ve been trolling my foyer almost (hear the almost) tempted to step out onto the patio so I can scream his name like a mama wolf calling her baby home but, because I am aware of how extreme that move is, I’ve held back, until tonight that is. Tonight I have to do something major because of the seven panic attacks I’ve had in the last three days, surpassing my recent record of five in a week by a good, solid, unhealthy margin.
    Master Chief and I are sitting in front of each other on the living room floor staring into one another’s eyes, communicating through our tried and true system of dog-to-human telepathy. He’s willing me to put his leash on him and walk his P.O’d hairy hiney down to Ash’s favorite bar, grab his sorry butt and bring him home where we need him. During this conversation it’s been brought to my attention that my poor Master’s been stuck going boom-boom on the small patch of grass I call a backyard, and for a dog his size, that’s no good. He makes gynormous booms.
    Never before in the last three years have I been forced into a corner this tight. Before panic attack number eight can take me down, I pick up the TV remote, turn on my game console and put Call of Duty in, hoping for an adrenaline release that I can control. All my guys are on, and I can’t help but think that at least I still have them.  The gaming gods are clearly on my side tonight so I put on my headset, set up the Eminem playlist on my stereo and pick my weapon, an MP-5 with an acog sight. 
    “See you on the battlefield, maggots,” I shout into my headset as my estrogen-fueled character charges into a raging testosterone battle, looking to take on the toughest and roughest of characters. The ensemble of guys in my headset laugh at my enthusiasm and it comforts me like that soft wool sweater of yesteryear.
    After twenty minutes, the guys start bowing out of our epic battle one at a time and I’ve had just about enough of their quitting attitudes. I shout at the last guy, gamer-tag ‘ GamesWood’ , “What the hell? We’re just getting’ going here, am I right Wood? What’s the rush people?
    “Look Panties. It’s Thursday night and some of us like to party. How would we ever get laid if we stayed in playing games every night? Not that you don’t sound totally hot but that’s not going to help my wood here (Seriously). Besides, don’t you ever need to get some?”
    “Some of us can function without “ it” you know. My panties will survive tonight firmly in place.” With a loud sigh I add as an afterthought, “What I really need is someone to walk my dog.” I don’t know why I let that slip out but thank those gaming gods that I did because my buddy GamesWood gives me a fantastic idea.
     

sex, I mean six
     
    Twenty minutes later there’s a rap on the door and I’m so anxious about my plan not working that I forget my usual worry about having to talk to a stranger. It’s been a while. 
    “Here we go, Master.  Let’s hope that for your sake this works, buddy.” He huffs into my hand, rubbing his muzzle against my sweaty palm as an outward sign of his K-9 support.
    After the delivery man knocks for the second time I pull open the door, trying to control my trembling hands and heavy breathing. The leash is tethered to my left hand, hidden behind my back as my right one holds the door open for him to enter. He looks confused about the invitation but since I’m a harmless looking little girl he comes in holding the delicious smelling pizza out in front of him and asking with his facial expression alone ‘where do you want this?’
    “Sorry, my dog here is desperate to go outside. You can just set that over there on the counter,” I say blathering along. “It’s been a few

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