A white dart whistled through the air, crashing into the dart board with a loud (thunk ). Laughter followed, and an obligatory pat on the back “Fuck me, bullseye.”
It wasn’t the first time the two had played darts together, their friendship ran almost as far back as the bar they played in. Tonight, however, was different. John was throwing the game of his life, his third bullseye in a row, and Jay was getting tired of paying out the wager. One round per hit, same agreement they’d had for years.
“What time’d you come by the house?” Jay asked, handing off Johns freshly poured beer. One eye closed, standing back and looking almost as if he were about to fall over John got ready for his next throw. “Around 2” the response came in sync with his practice throw, “I’m still allowed over, right?”
Jay chuckled, walking over to his old friend. He placed an arm on his shoulder and shook his head. Then he gently slid a knife into the underpart of his belly. “Rules are rules, brother. You know this game”