Multitasking

“Uh, Jet?”

“Yeah, Max. . . ?”

“I, um . . . I . . . l-love you. I love you.”

“Aw, that’s sweet. I love you, too.”

“No, I don’t mean—I mean, yes, I love you. You’ve been my best friend since eighth grade. But I don’t just love you, I . . . love-love you.”

“And I love-love you, too--BOOM, goes the dynamite, bitch!”

“Argh! You’re still not getting it—”

“What’s to get? You love me. I love you. Good times, good ti—shit! Intercepted!”

“But—Jesus, will you just stop playing Halo for, like, five seconds?!”

“Why?”

“So we can talk!”

“But we’re already talking.”

“No. I’m talking and you’re killing CGI aliens, or whatever.”

“It’s called multitasking, Max. It’s my kung fu, and it is strong.”

“It’s called rude, and you’re absolutely right. It is strong.”

“This sector’s really a bitch to clear. . . .”

“Listen, Jet, just pause it for a sec, okay? This is really, really important.”

“But I’m playing live, Max. There are soldiers out there, counting on me!”

“And there’s a soldier right here, counting on you, too, Jet. . . .”

“Ah, jeez, not the sad-puppy face! No fair!”

“Please stop playing for a few minutes and come join me in my room so we can talk?”

“Jeez . . . alright, fine. Just—gimme a minute and I’ll be in there.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

“’Kay. Oh, and Max?”

“Yeah, Jet?”

“Since we’re finally admitting to how we feel about each other, does that mean you’re finally gonna jump my bones when I get to your room?”

“I—I—what?”

“Well, I just figure since we’re all in love and shit, we might as well get busy expressing it in the world’s oldest terms, wink-wink.”

“But—but how did you know—?”

“Did you not just say it, like, fifty billion times, two minutes ago?

“Well, yeah, but . . . you were listening?”

“Duh, yeah. Multitasking. But stop changing the subject under discussion. Will you, or will you not be jumping my bones when I get to your room?”

“I . . . don’t put out before the first date. . . .”

“Technically, if you wanna look at it another way, we’ve been dating since eighth grade, so. . . .”

“We’re not having sex right now, Jet! So you may as well keep killing aliens. We can talk more over dinner. You’re taking me someplace very nice.”

“I am? Wait, Max, where’re you going?”

“To start getting ready, of course.”

“Oh. Huh. . . .” A pause that’s silent but for the sounds of CG weapons fire, followed by a triumphant whoop. “It’s my kung fu . . . and it is strong.”

END