Alex was about to change his life in unexpected ways. It all began the day of his nineteen birthday. It was a summer hotter than moat, and he'd jogged back to his flat, rinsing sweat off his brow and chest. Since high school he had tried to get in a somewhat better shape. Mixed results with pumping iron, but at least jogging a few miles here and there made him feel more lively and energetic. He had even improved at videogames.
Coming back home, Alex felt somehow dejected though. Nineteen birthday, he had just left home, and in the new city he had chosen there was little space for relations. His retail job left him little money other than rent, food and the occasional new character skin, so getting out and meet people was a strong no.
He had received messages from his family, though. Especially his sister had been sweet this year... the farther from home the sweeter his family got, it seemed. Next year he might just move to China.
The thing that sent Alex into the wildest of his dreams was waiting for him in front of his door. He thought somebody had abandoned a shipping box right in front of it. There was no finding out who it might belong to, though: no address, no sender, no nothing.
Alex picked up the box and rattled it. It was quite small in fact, like a board game box. There was soft rustling coming from inside but little more. Alex's curiosity battle with his conscience. Should he bring the stuff inside and look inside? Or was he better to leave it the fuck alone? After all, it might be filled with toxic, or anthrax, or who knows what.
Then again... curiosity won. He brought the box inside and almost forgot about it as the need for a shower and a glass of water was more pressing. Alex rinsed and only when he came back into the kitchen and saw the box curiosity piqued once again.
Alex opened it with a paper-cutter. Inside there was a smaller box, wrapped in paper. And inside the box he found... a stack of odd-looking cards, black and white. The white ones had words and lines printed in black and the black cards were the other way around. Atop of them was a small sheet of paper, apparently hand-written. Or maybe it was just the font that looked like hand-writing? Odd.
The rules are simple, the paper sheet read, write name, action and reason on the cards. Then rip them.
What was this? Some publicity stunt? Alex put the paper sheet aside and looked at a few cards. He frowned. At first they seemed to be regular cards, but the words... for example there was one reading And the prize for biggest slut goes to____ followed by and underlined space where you were supposed to write a name, and some other reading ____ who slept with three men on her birthday and yet another, the black ones, stating reasons, such as dad issues ran wild or too much feminism.
Alex was taken aback. This seemed like a bad prank. Like... how could these even work? Still...
Still, what if this wasn't a prank? What if there was some unhinged force that wanted him to have such power? Only one way to find out. Alex turned to look outside the window at Mr. and Mrs. Paulson. They were a middle-aged couple, no daughter, no son, happily living off their mutual hatred. If there was a day when Alex never heard their constant bickering, he would call it a blessed day.
Maybe today would be that blessed day. Alex only wanted for the two of them to shut up for a moment, though. But the cards only seemed to suggest heavily sexual, demeaning themes in nature. There were cards that read we love how_____'s new tits turned out and other such as itching a scratch. He only wanted Mrs. Paulson to shut her mouth.
Uhm...
Alex quickly wrote Mrs. Paulson's name and surname on the card, then paired it with a black one reading for best cocksucker and then, taking a large breath, ripped them apart. They didn't go up in flame, which was encouraging. Even more encouraging was the sound of Mrs. Paulson's bickering and her husband's irate responses dying down little by little.
Alex waited, looking from outside the window, holding his breath until he saw the silhouette of Mrs. Paulson's head bobbing up and down a very pleased-looking and quite shocked, Mr. Paulson.
Alex looked back at the cards. This... this couldn't be true, could it?
But if it was... if it was, he thought, coming back to look at the cards, choosing a couple... if it was... he might as well enjoy it, he thought with a huge smile.
"Oooooah," groaned Mr. Paulson from next door. He at least seemed to be enjoying himself alright.
***
Fast forward a couple hours, and Alex's palms were sweaty. The retail job he had consisted most of getting yelled at as he ran from point A to pint B, pushing boxes and doing pointless stuff. It was a bit like the old comic about the husband changing all the furniture's places only for his wife to realize it was best as it was before. At least he was paid for this shit. And the company was even better. Helen. Tall. Short pixie cut. Sparkly green eyes. Long trim legs. A cute bubble butt. Way out of his league.
The cards in Alex's back pocket seemed to burn as he approached her. Helen waved and smiled her Stock Smile #5 to him, which to Alex was at any rate most charming. He would do anything to see that smile again, to see it every time he wanted, to see it pointed at him.
Now, it seemed like he could. Now, Alex wasn't some sexual terrorist. He was concerned about the newfound power of the cards. There was no telling how long it would last (judging from Mr. Paulson's continued groans, several hours at least) and there was no telling which after-effects they might bring. Also, making Helen suck him off in the middle of the shop might look bad on his next resume. Thus he had chosen the few among the cards which seemed the most tame, and written Helen names all over them.
Now it was time to try and see how he could enjoy them.
Alex, eyes still taking in Helen's flawless beauty, took out the first two of the cards. He licked his lips. Now it was the moment. No-
"Chase! What the fuck are you doing there?" The voice of his store manager hit Alex's ears with the grace of an automotive stretching a cat all over a couple miles. More or less the same effects on his hearing, too. He turned to look at the purple-haired, soft-bodied, hard-boned form of his store manager, Ms. Cynthia.
