Many stupid people, such a long run I've had,, But no one in the world is dumber than my dad. Options

[Clive Zurowski]

Closed to Chase Eaton.

Apparently, the twenty fifth of December could advance rather quickly, like a predator hungry for its prey. Coincidentally, Clive Zurowski knew that feeling; he spent the majority of his days working with Chase, striking down their enemies, causing misery and inflicting pain. Christmas Day, however, was always a nice way to relax and unwind, and the young half-blooded wizard hadn't stepped outside of his house from the moment he'd woken up. He'd sat cross-legged on the laminate flooring of his living room, watching his parents open their presents and then opening his own, before enjoying a lovely cooked breakfast prepared by his mother. He'd had a bath, dressed himself in some casual clothes and had been playing on his new games console, courtesy of his father, for the rest of the morning. Things were going pretty swimmingly for the Zurowski family, as per usual, but it'd always be the same time every year that things would go pear-shaped.

"Father, you've put the turkey upside-down in the baking tray, just like last year," Clive dreaded Christmas dinner. At the very moment he entered the kitchen and noticed his father's mishap, his suspicions were confirmed, and it seemed as though the old man would never learn. As much as the ten-year-old loved to sit at the dinner table with his family, enjoy a lovely meal, pull crackers, tell jokes and wear flimsy paper hats, the turkey was usually overcooked, the potatoes were usually burnt and the brussel sprouts were usually spilt over the kitchen floor before Mr. Zurowski could even reach the dining room. Of course, it was perfectly normal for Mrs. Zurowski and her son to expect the worst, but this year they'd have guests, and Clive's best friend Chase had two wizarding parents, and both had grasped the concept of cooking with magic, as Mrs. Zurowski had done. The Eaton family were probably expecting some sort of lavish celebration of the day, and needed to be warned before they could see the horror that was the Annual Zurowski Christmas Dinner Disaster. "I'm going next door to tell Chase and his family that we're ready for them. Do try not to make such a mess of the kitchen this year, won't you?"

Clive took a chocolate from the Quality Street tin, unwrapped it and popped it in his mouth, before dropping the wrapper back into the tin and leaving his father in peace. He walked back into the living room and kicked his father's newly unwrapped mug, sending it sliding across the floor towards a corner, before packing away his own presents to leave the room tidy for the Eatons. He quickly ran upstairs to find his favourite jumper, informing his mother of where he was going whilst sliding back down the bannister. Reaching for the cold handle of the front door, pushing it down with ease and pulling it towards him, the half-blood quickly stepped outside, the cold and bitter wind whipping at his face. The ten-year-old made the short walk from his house to Chase's, which was conveniently next door, and knocked three times before the grand door was opened by Chase himself. Before either addressed the other, the two opened their arms and gave each other a friendly hug, as they usually did in greeting.

"Merry Christmas, brother!" Clive broke free from the hug and was invited inside. "Merry Christmas, Mr and Mrs Eaton!" he called out to his best friend's parents, allowing them to acknowledge the fact that he'd come to pick them up. Clive knew Chase wasn't on extremely good terms with his parents, but forcing the boy's mother and father to spend Christmas on their own would probably be an improvement to the many years they'd had with their son. It was only right to include them in the whole charade, after all. This humorous thought in mind, Clive invited himself into the family's sitting room, collapsing into the nearest comfy armchair to admire Chase's haul of presents for the year. "Not bad, not bad. I had less luck than you - I highly doubt a wizards' chess set from my mother and a games console from my father can be considered a healthy set of presents for a young man like myself. Then again, it's an improvement on last year. My father hand-knitting me a jumper really wasn't the most delightful of presents. I gave it to Daniel down the road - told him it was his present from me. He was pleasantly surprised, to say the least and - ah, Mr and Mrs Eaton, shall we be off then?"

Clive had noticed his friend's parents enter the room, coats, scarves, gloves and all. Rising from the armchair, Chase, his parents and their visitor made their way to the front door, Mrs. Eaton pulling it open and holding it for the other three to walk out. Once they were all outside, the door was locked with a quick swish of Mr. Eaton's wand, and the four walked down the pavement, across a little and then towards Clive's house. Before opening the door, however, the young Zurowski boy remembered what he'd decided about warning the guests, and turned around to face them.

"I thought I should warn you," Clive began, before pulling a sour face. "Father's cooking."

[Chase Eaton]

Christmas was certifiably lame.

He'd gotten over the childish excitement years ago - he didn't see the point of crossing out the days on the calendar in anticipation when really, the twenty-fifth of December was much like the twenty-fourth, but with added presents. True, the presents were often quite a good point of the day since it was how his parents resolved any lingering guilt they might have over the attention they paid to their business over the year vs. the amount of interest they showed to their only son. Guilt presents? Heck, he'd take it.

A typical Christmas at the Eaton household comprised of the three of them sitting in a 'family room' that was really too big for only three people, scattered around their generic Christmas tree with its generic and basic decorations, making awkward, stilted conversation about how lovely it was to have the whole day to spend quality time together. He tended to stay quiet during these conversations, muttering false statements of agreement whenever it seemed to be expected of him and privately counting down the minutes in his head - the minutes until he could open his presents, and then the time until he could make some excuse and escape over to spend the rest of the day with Clive.

This Christmas had been no different - he'd slept late and even spent a good hour dozing and trying to return to his dream before his treacherous brain actually latched onto the fact that it was Christmas. And of course, despite the fact that Christmas was a stupid holiday for idiots and greeting card companies, he couldn't sleep after he realized that - a whole heap of guilt presents were waiting for him out there, all ready to attempt to buy his forgiveness. He could stand his darling parents feeling guilty for another year if it got him better presents than last year - trading cards? Please.

But he'd dragged himself out of bed eventually and participated in their yearly charade with a rather blank smile fixed on his face - it was all worth it, so long as he got his presents. And when he finally heard the familiar pattern of knocking at the door, he was out of that room before his mother could even remind him not to run in the house. He flung open the door, greeting Clive with a grin and returning his hug. "Merry Christmas! Come on in, I don't want to freeze to death before I can enjoy my presents." He hardly needed to invite Clive in, since he was round there so often, but small courtesies must be observed when the parents were around. He made a face as his best friend also called out a greeting to his parents, but let it slide - another of those small courtesies. Politeness. Ugh.

Returning to his current favourite room in the house - the one that had all his presents - he grabbed a chocolate frog from his pile and amused himself with pulling each of the legs off the creature as Clive inspected his pile. "Hey, I'll have that games console if you don't want it." He remarked, biting the head off his frog. Sure, some of his presents had actually been decent - a model dragon? He'd wanted one of those for years; now all he needed to do was train it to attack on command - and some of the books looked interesting enough, even if they'd obviously ordered them via catalogue, or bought them during lunch breaks. But this console Clive had mentioned? Chase was fascinated by the funny little muggle games; they were his guilty pleasure.

And it was no wonder Daniel had been so pleasantly surprised - he probably nearly peed his pants out of sheer happiness when he realized Clive was only there to offload an awful present off on him, rather than continue to make his life a misery. He was about to make a comment to that effect, but then his parents entered the room - he'd forgotten they'd been invited over to the Zurowski's as well. Wasn't this going to be a delightful little trip. He remained uncharacteristically quiet as they made their way to the house he knew as well as his own, only talking to Clive; he'd had his family interaction for that day, thanks.

Wait. Clive hadn't just said that, had he?

"What, your Father?" He asked in disbelief, glancing at his parents with a frown on his face - Mr. Zurowski was a pleasant enough man, but Chase had eaten his cooking before and he was nearly positive his parents wouldn't be used to it.

On second thoughts, perhaps that wasn't so bad. Their expressions could prove to be the highlight of the meal as they struggled to stay polite. "Wonderful. His cooking is always so unique!" He exclaimed, clapping his hands together in false delight as they walked into the house and out of the biting cold. Reasoning that the polite thing to do was let his parents enjoy the older Zurowski's hospitality, Chase turned to Clive with a grin and began the happy process of ignoring his parents. "So. Your presents? Bet I can beat you at whatever games that console-thing has."

Well, so long as they weren't strategy based.

"....If there's time before dinner, I suppose." He added, sounding less than enthusiastic. To be perfectly honest, he was trying to put off the spectacle as long as he could; he was just waiting for the kitchen to burst into flames. Poor kitchen - he doubted it would be the first time it happened, or the last.

[Clive Zurowski]

Clive couldn't understand the reason for his best friend's sugar-coating of Mr. Zurowski's cooking. It really was the most awful thing the boys had ever tasted and the half-Polish ten year old was at a slight loss. The older man's food was certainly as unique as Chase had described - Mr and Mrs Eaton would probably agree upon sampling it - but the originality wasn't necessarily a good thing. Clive could only hope that their guests received the pieces of turkey with the least burnt bits on, and that there'd be plenty of gravy on the table to mask the taste. There'd need to be...

"Certainly not," Clive knew he had to forget about dinner until the time came. Thus, when Chase provided him with the perfect opportunity for distraction, the young man knew that he needed to take it. Truthfully, playing videogames wasn't the most interesting of things to do at Christmas, but with Chase then the possibilities were endless. "I've already been practising, with my father. He's really quite good. I expect he played games similar to these when he was younger. However, I was still able to beat him. There's this one game I do find particularly interesting..."

The pair of boys continued to talk as they moved through the hall and into the living room. Wrapping paper was strewn across the floor and a huge pile of presents were stacked one on top of the other in the corner. Clive picked up a piece of wrapping paper, screwed it up in his fists and then threw it at his friend with some force. "Put these in the bin over there, will you?" he asked, continuing to throw the paper at the boy. "I'll set up the games. But firstly, there's one I want to show you. I think you'll find it very amusing."

As Chase continued to put the balls of wrapping paper into the wastepaper bin, Clive picked up a portable console and inserted a new game card. He loaded the game and passed it over to Chase. "Virtual Life. You can actually build people, and give them homes, feed them...the possibilities are endless, and the days go by in a minute or two. Look here - this person hasn't been fed for three months, apparently. Yet he's still alive!" the ten year old laughed. These things really were quite amusing. "I've read the manual, and apparently the characters don't die, either. Such a shame, really..."

"Oh, you know what I'm like," Clive had noticed his best friend's face and thought he really needed to justify himself. Well, the pair had been best friends for a long while and so it was somewhat unnecessary to explain themselves to each other nowadays. Still... "Anyway, how about those games? Would you prefer to play a driving game, a platform game, or how about this karaoke one? You've always had great vocal chords, have you not?"

Chase's singing was almost on a par with Mr. Zurowski's cooking...

[Chase Eaton]

Somehow Chase just wasn't that surprised that Clive had managed to beat his father - as 'lovely' as Mr. Zurowski was... Well, he was still Mr. Zurowski and in a complete class of his own when it came to practically everything. And that wasn't necessarily a good thing. Not that Chase mentioned this to Clive - he could hardly claim the moral high ground, moral low ground or in fact any ground at all if they were going to compare their parents. Although, if push came to shove he wasn't entirely sure that he'd swap them for Clive's. Better the devil you knew and all that rot.

One eyebrow rose disbelievingly as Clive started picking up paper. Now, that part would have been fine... if he hadn't insisted on throwing at him and telling him to clean it up. "How clean does the room have to be to play a game?" He grumbled good-naturedly, catching the paper he threw and flicking it right back at his friend. "Gotta be faster than that, Clivewire." He teased, making a half-hearted effort to throw some of the paper around him in the general direction of the room. Honestly, they needed to invest in house elves here. Or at least a maid. He told Clive as much, shaking his head. "You wouldn't have to do chores or anything, it's great." He continued, before being cut off mid rant by his interest in the game.

In all honesty, he didn't seen what the fuss was about at first - why make people and control their lives when you could go out and live your own instead? "That's one hell of a diet." He remarked, watching the game with a little more interest now. Somehow he wasn't surprised that Clive's first impulse had been to see how he could kill the characters - the two had been best friends for so many years now, he imagined it would have to be something quite radical for one of them to surprise the other. Besides, why would he condemn when his first wonder had been of the same lines? "Can you drown them or anything?" He queries, interest piqued.

Similarities. The boys had them.

He smirked when Clive took a barely-veiled jab at his singing prowess. "You're just jealous. You know I'm going to be a Broadway star one day." He replied mockingly. "What were your parents thinking getting you a karaoke game, anyway?" He asked derisively. Honestly, had Clive turned into a singing prodigy in the shower or something? It was just... weird. "Driving is for muggles. What's that one?" He nudged one with his foot, noticing the ridiculous amount of weapons the man on the front seemed to be carrying. Hardly feasible, yet entertaining.

And what was Christmas without a little violence?

[Clive Zurowski]

The living room was so much more untidy than it'd already been, but Clive didn't care; he was spending the entire day with Chase, and that was enough to satisfy the young boy. They were going to have one of the most perfect days of their lives, what with playing videogames, discussing important matters and other amusing activites, as well as laughing uncontrollably at Mr Eaton and Mrs Eaton as they sampled the traditional Zurowski turkey. The two adults were in for a big surprise and it seemed as though they didn't suspect a thing, but the two children would have to wait for another few hours at least before being able to witness the great event.

In which Clive would beat Chase at every single videogame on the pile, of course.

"I think father probably bought that one," Clive took the karaoke game and threw it to the floor. "I've heard him sing in the shower before work, and believe me it's possibly even worse than his cooking. Then again, have you ever sampled cooking any worse than my father's?" Both Clive and his mother definitely hadn't. The majority of the surface area of Mr. Zurowski's cooking would usually be burnt. "I think the only song he can just about get away with singing is the Polish National Anthem, and I don't think that'll be on that game..."

"And we should save that for later," the young boy motioned to the game Chase had shown an interest in, before picking up another. It'd be easier to break the other boy into the games console by giving him a game anybody could play. Whether he'd be good at it was a completely different story, but Clive wasn't going to tell him that. Besides, an early win would set the bar high, and the April-born half-blood certainly had enough drive to beat his best friend at every single game. "We should play Trivial Pursuit. An old favourite from years ago, I'm told."

Smirking to himself, Clive opened up the case of the game and took out the disk, inserting it into the console before passing the instruction booklet to Chase. "Been brushing up on your facts recently? Since you're going to have to know an awful lot more than you did to beat me at this." the ten-year-old knew his next door neighbour hated trivia-based games, just because he'd always lose. It was highly amusing, to say the least. "Maybe I'll go easy on you, for once."

Or maybe not.

[Chase Eaton]

There were times that Chase wondered about the elder Zurowski; how normal was it for an older man to buy a karaoke game of some sort in a shop? If he had a daughter it would of course be understandable, but when his only offspring - unless there was something fairly major Clive wasn't telling him - was a son, it was always a little suspicious. Still, it was Mr. Zurowski; he was odd enough on his own and[/i[ he was a muggle, whom everybody knew did odd things. Perhaps this was just normal in his muggle culture? "Maybe he bought it in order to improve - he was probably hoping the two of you could have father-son duets. How very touching." He teased, eyes glinting with mischief.

Chase, a troublemaker? Never.

"And really, I try my best to [i]avoid cooking quite like your fathers, let alone worse. I'm quite happy with not dying of poison, thanks all the same." His nanny would shoo him out of the kitchen any time he entered it - he was sure she was just worried by the possibility of things to burn in there. Or perhaps it was the wide variety of sharp objects - but he was still sure that with no prior experience even he could still make a nicer meal than Mr. Zurowski.

Of course Chase didn't pout as Clive didn't exactly take to his game suggestion (for pouting was something he very rarely did; it was something girls did to get their way and he was perfectly capable of getting his own way without it thank you very much) but if he was a girl, it may well have looked like pouting. Especially when Clive suggested the alternative, right before it morphed into the incredulous. Really? "You're kidding." He said in disbelief. "Why would they make a console game out of that?" Ordinarily he might have been quite fond of Trivial Pursuit; he was smart for his age and could probably have done quite well at it. If he was playing anyone but Clive, who insisted on being some sort of genius child.

Ugh.

"Or we could play a game that actually had some semblance of fun or fairness involved." He muttered, watching as Clive did some odd thing to the console and put the game on. With any luck he'd still be able to go down to dinner with some shreds of his dignity remaining, but he wasn't entirely sure. "You do realize that the only reason I'm going to let you win is because it's Christmas and you're such a charity case, right?" He asked with a grin. Ahh, false bravado. It make the world go round.

Dignity (relatively) safe.