the time i played “magic: the gathering” all the time

My 2-liter of Mountain Dew always seemed to run low just as the game heated up. The cards in my hand looked menacing: the elder goblin with a biting power of 8, the sandstorm with the ability to sting the skin of all opposing players, and, lurking at the very edge of my hand, the mute spell I could cast to silence all players for a full turn. The dining room table had seen a lot of action that night; just four hours prior, Gary’s family had concluded a lively Passover Seder. But there was nothing celebratory about the table then. It was a battleground, the mystic forest of Nanananana, the perfect setting for our weekly game of Magic: the Gathering.

Louisa reached past the bowl of Doritos and quickly rolled the four dice. Louisa was possibly the best Magic player in the county. Everyone in junior high wanted to play with her, but she had chosen us because we allowed her to bring along her little brother Abe and let him name everything in the game. She was proving herself to be a master again that Friday night. A roll of 24 allowed her to advance all of her trolls to the gates of the mystic castle of Barwf. Abe moved the small plastic troll figurines into place and arranged them into the shape of a butt.

Curtis had another sneezing fit, so he forfeited his turn to seek help from Gary’s mom. Gary, the final member of our weekly foursome, spun the mystic wheel of Steering Wheel. It landed on bankrupt, and suddenly it was down to me and Louisa. In his death throes, Gary cast one final invisibility spell on her. As she covered her eyes for fifteen seconds he made a series of mean faces at Abe, who had been taunting him and eating his homemade Chex mix all night. Abe coolly stood his ground.

Two hours later, Louisa and I were poised for one final battle along the banks of the mystic Ocean of Balonyenchee. I was jittery from the Pixy Stix and the Monster energy drinks, but also from the pressure. I knew that if I could beat Louisa, my name would be on the lips of everyone sitting at that one table by the cash register in the cafeteria on Monday. It was nearly two in the morning. Curtis had gone home hours ago, sneezing the whole way. Gary was up and watching the battle come to its climax, while Abe was asleep on the floor, a bag of beef jerky serving as his pillow. The game would end here.

In a turn that has now become legendary at Stuart Webster Junior High School, I used my army of vampires to turn Louisa’s soldiers against her, fought off a disease spell with a penicillin card, then licked the Cheeto dust off my fingers and went for the death blow. With my final ounce of energy, I slapped the pop-o-matic bubble and held my breath as the die danced inside. A six — and only a six — would defeat her last remaining character: Pooferts, the mystic dragon. All I could do was hope.

Gary shook me awake and told me I’d fainted. Even so, he was smiling wider even than that time we were chosen to start together in the final match of the MathOlympiad, and my heart leapt. Louisa gathered her belongings and, before walking out the door with a tired Abe by her side, vowed revenge. Leftover matzo bread never tasted sweeter than it did that glorious, victorious night.