Another night, another murder.

Tonight, Stevie continues his run down memory lane. In college, sometimes in the day of vinyl but after eight tracks, he had been involved in some fantasy game in a large cellar. Someone had given him a plastic sword with a towel duct-taped around the blade.

Guys -- ugly guys -- were waving their own toweled weapons and cheering him.

"Twenty five points! Just twenty five points and you'll reach level 2!"

"How much for the gnome?" Stevie asked as he approached the next beast.

Norman, playing the part of an anonymous woman's husband the night before, had no clue who this drunk was talking to. "I don't have any gnomes to sell you," he replied. He was too busy for this shit. Stacie (was that her name?) said she'd be back tonight. The wedding ring on her hand only fueled his fire that much more.

"Thirty points!" his Dungeon Master suddenly yelled. "Kill the damn gnome!" someone else replied. Stevie lifted his sword, swung, and in one motion reached level two.

Tracie would never see her lover again. By the time she would arrive, policemen and an ambulance would have surrounded her lover, and shame would prevent her from ever telling anyone who he was. Later that night, a coroner would be trying to figure out just how the remove a "No Parking" which had been perfectly embedded inside of his victim's head.