Your Princess is in Another Castle

by Richard Fore

  “It’s just a harmless fantasy for me,” I say. “I’d love to be with Jessica, and she reminds herself of her flatness every thirty seconds. But I don’t care.”

  “So what’s your quirk, Seth?” asks Chris. “You’ve given us all the Freud treatment, so let’s have yours.”

  “I don’t have one.”

  “Liar!” shouts Chris.

  “So Chris,” I say, “Jimmy’s found more than a couple of women who’ve accommodated him, albeit without fully realizing the scale of his condition. You ever been with anyone who let you indulge in your interest?”

  “No,” says Chris. “See, that’s the reason I hid it for so long. It’s not that I’m ashamed of it. It’s that most women aren’t going to understand it. Take my last girlfriend. First time we ever started fooling around I go for her feet and start to massage them. She immediately asks me if I’m a toe sucker. A question totally unprovoked, mind you. She just asks. So I ask her why she’s asking. She said because when her last boyfriend started giving her a foot massage, it ended up with him sucking on her toes.

  “So I test the water. I ask her if it was something she was into and if she wants me to do it. She said it didn’t do anything for her, but that I can go on ahead and do it if I want to. I say no thanks and that I was just giving her a foot rub because it’s a good way to get a girl relaxed and want to transition to sex. She laughed. I had to turn it into a joke. I couldn’t go through with it even though I wanted to. Because it’s not enough that the girl allow me to do it, she must enjoy it! Want it! Straight out of 1984, man!”

  “1984?” I ask.

  “You know, like when they’re torturing Winston Smith with the lights. They keep showing him four lights, but they want him to tell them that there are only three. But not only does he need to say three, he must also believe there are three.”

  “That’s from Star Trek: The Next Generation,” says Jimmy. “The Cardassians are torturing Captain Picard like that.”

  “Yeah, but that scene was inspired by 1984,” I say. “Only in the book they were doing it with fingers, not lights.”

  “Whatever,” says Chris. “It was the same kind of torture I went through. Now that girl just happened to have had a previous boyfriend with a foot fetish, so she had some experience with it. With girls that don’t, that’s where the ‘don’t be Icarus’ rule comes in. See, most women are going to enjoy having their feet massaged. But it’s also not an inherently sexual act to them. You’re just giving them some relaxing pleasure by doing it even though there’s a certain level of intimacy involved.

  “And say you’ve got a girl who enjoys having her feet massaged so much that she wants you to rub them for her every night. That would seem like a perfect situation. But it’s not. Because sooner or later just getting to touch them every night isn’t gonna be enough. I’m going to want to kiss her soles. Suck on her toes. And the very second I make that transition I’m putting it all on the line, because I’ve got three possible outcomes.

  “Best case scenario is she’s actually into it. Rare. Exceedingly rare. Kiss one sole and she offers you the other. But you’ve got a better chance of going to a garage sale and finding a near-mint copy of Flash Comics #1 than having that happen.

  “Second possibility is it’ll be like I said before, with the girl reluctantly letting you do it because she knows you’re into it even though it doesn’t do anything for her. Realistically, that’s the best option you could hope for. But I don’t want to have to be sucking on her toes knowing every time I do she’s just thinking about when it’s gonna end so she can move on to some foreplay she’ll actually enjoy.

  “Finally, and this is probably the most likely situation to happen, is she’s gonna react with some form of hostility. Kiss one sole and she pulls away the other one. Suck on a toe and she kicks you in the head. For as I said our culture tells us that feet aren’t meant to be sexual, and most women obey that mandate.

  “And when this last possibility happens you’ve just lost your enjoyment of giving any future foot massages because as soon as she realizes you’ve had a foot fetish this whole time, she’s not going to look at getting a foot massage the same way again. If she continues to let you do it at all, she’ll still know it’s sexual for you and it won’t be the same. So whenever you’re rubbing them you’re constantly asking yourself if this is going to be enough, but remember that by asking for more you’re flying dangerously close to the sun.”

  “You’re not like into footjobs or anything like that are you?” asks Seth.

  “No,” says Chris. “That doesn’t appeal to me at all. In fact, I actually find that kind of disgusting. But handjobs don’t really appeal to me either, so that might be why.”

  It’s 3:15pm and we’ve just finished up a marathon of Tekken Tag Tournament, one of the launch games for the PlayStation 2. To my surprise, Jimmy never once played as King. Instead he stuck to a rotation of Bryan Fury, Michelle Chang, and Yoshimitsu. Seth clung primarily to Paul Phoenix and Hwoarang, while Chris rarely deviated from the Williams sisters. Not a kinky player by any means, I stuck to the story-centric Mishima family.

  “All right, boyos, I gotta get out of this tent for awhile,” says Seth. “I’m going to walk around Target for a bit. Who’s with me?”

  “I’ll go,” responds Jimmy. “We can check out the toys and see if Milton Bradley still makes Crossfire.”

  “I don’t wanna do any shopping, but I wouldn’t mind getting some air,” I say.

  “Guys, I don’t think leaving is a good idea,” says Chris. “If you leave the line, you lose your place in the line. That’s a rule. At least check with the others outside to see if they mind.”

  “Uh-huh,” says Seth. “And what’s the first rule? Do not talk about the line? We were here first. So we get to make the rules. Someone needs to take a break for awhile, I don’t care. Come on, Jimmy.”

  “I’ll get some air, too,” says Chris.

  It’s cold outside the tent. Bad flip-flop weather, Chris would say. A line has indeed formed behind us. According to Chris and Jimmy, Target is going to have twenty units on sale tomorrow, though I see more people than units available. Some must be here in support of friends. There are a couple of other tents and many more lawn chairs and coolers on the sidewalk. Sitting outside the tent next to ours are two guys who appear to be our age, each playing a Gameboy Advance. They press pause and look up at us simultaneously.

  “Hey,” says the one closest to us. “So you’re the other two members of the first party to arrive. I tried to get my crew here first thing in the morning but they insisted it wasn’t necessary.”

  “It wasn’t,” says the other. “We’re still second. It’s not like we’d be the first in the world to play a PS3 if we had gotten here first. Japan’s been playing it for a week now.”

  “I happen to agree with you,” Chris says to the closer guy. “It don’t matter if it’s a forum post or a spot in line, first is still first.”

  “Agreed,” the closer guy says. “I’m Will. This is my friend Lance.”

  “I’m Chris. This is Justin.”

  “Hi,” I say, glaring at Chris.

  “Hey,” says Lance.

  “Our other two party members are Seth and Jimmy,” says Chris. “You’ll have to forgive them. They went into Target of their own accord. I told them not to leave or to at least get permission from the others in line before they left.”

  “So they went into Target. Who cares?” asks Lance.

  “A line like this needs rules and order,” says Will. “But I’m okay with them just going into Target, it’s not like they’re totally abandoning the area or anything. And so long as they don’t bring back anyone new so they can cut in line.”

  “They won’t,” says Chris.

  “So what’s with the Optimus Prime play tent?” asks Lance.

  “It’s a contingency in case one of us scores with a girl and needs some privacy,” says Chris. He sounds frustrated, like Megatron having to
explain his master plan to Starscream a second time.

  “Yeah, if Optimus Prime’s a rockin,’ don’t come a knockin,’” I say. Everyone laughs, including Lance, who seems to be the only one who detected my sarcasm.

  “Although Seth wouldn’t use the play tent,” says Chris. “He’d just screw right in front of us, like Conan having his way with Belit.”

  “Seth’s our purple-haired friend,” I say.

  “We also have a Seth,” says Will. “He’s in the tent finishing up a chess game with our other friend Eric.”

  “Cool,” says Chris. “Wait. So you’ve got a Will, Lance, Seth, and Eric. That’s unbelievable! Four friends with the exact same names as the kids from Illusion of Gaia!”

  “Looks like we’re in the right line,” says Lance.

  “Amazing how fast you picked up on that,” says Will.

  “So do you two have girlfriends named Kara and Lily?” I ask.

  Will and Lance look at each other sadly. “No,” they both say.

  “Is Seth the nerd of your group?” asks Chris.

  “Well he’s in this line, so we’re sorta all nerds,” says Lance. “But yeah, he’s in the tent right now playing chess with Eric.”

  “Is Eric a redhead?” I ask.

  “No,” says Will.

  “Do you have a cousin named Neal?” asks Chris.

  “Nope,” says Will.

  “Still, what a coincidence,” says Chris.

  “Might I assume the four of you are all keeping your systems and not selling them on eBay?” I ask.

  “Of course,” says Will.

  “Just because Metal Gear Solid 4 isn’t a launch title doesn’t mean you should just hock away your system for some quick cash,” says Lance. “So is it the same for you guys?”

  “Yeah,” says Chris. “I didn’t pitch my tent at seven-thirty this morning so I could make money off an auction. Because I hate posers, be they G4 hostesses, Ring Girls, bat-fan frauds, or console auctioneers.”

  “Don’t ask,” I say. “About any of those things.”

  “Checkmate!” shouts a triumphant voice from inside the other tent.

  “All right, they’re done,” says Lance. “We can order pizza now.”

  “Who won?” I ask. “Seth?”

  “Yeah,” says Will. “He always wins at chess.”

  “All right, nice meeting you guys,” says Lance. “We’ll probably catch you later on. It’s going to be a late night, as you know.”

  We say goodbye to the Gaia Guys and they retreat into their tent. “What a coincidence,” Chris says again.

  Seth and Jimmy return to the tent a few minutes later. Jimmy excitedly pulls out a Crossfire box from a plastic bag.

  “Awesome,” says Chris. “Let’s play!”

  “Hey, you guys aren’t going to believe this,” I say, “but the four guys in the tent next to us are named Will, Seth, Lance, and Eric.”

  “Wow,” says Seth. “So what?”

  “So what? Those are the names of the four kids from Illusion of Gaia,” says Chris.

  Seth stares at us blankly.

  “It was a SNES game,” I say.

  “Well, not one I’ve played,” says Seth. “Now if their names had been Locke, Edgar, Sabin, and Setzer, and they had two girls named Celes and Terra with them that might have gotten me a little excited.”

  “Illusion of Gaia is no A Link to the Past,” says Jimmy.

  “Actually, wasn’t Illusion of Gaia just some second-rate Zelda clone?” asks Seth.

  “Set up the Crossfire board, Jimmy,” says Chris. “It’s you and me, Seth, right now.”

  “Bring it,” says Seth.

  It’s 5:05pm and our Crossfire tournament of champions is now over. In the end it came down to a match between Jimmy and Chris. Jimmy won, and though the game has ended that hasn’t stopped them from engaging in an epic stare down for the past thirty seconds.

  “Looks like you got caught up… in the crossfire,” says Jimmy, breaking the silence.

  Chris grabs the board and throws it across the tent, scattering ball bearings everywhere. “The board wasn’t level!” he shouts. “It’s never level. That’s the whole damn problem with this game. With every board game. It’s either you win by pure luck through a roll of the die or there’s a critical flaw in the game’s design that makes fair play impossible. Like this one!”

  “Now, now,” says Seth. “There’s no reason to get cross.”

  “What about chess? That’s pure skill, isn’t it?” I ask.

  “Tell that to Hans Berliner,” says Jimmy.

  “Yeah, that’s right Jimmy,” says Chris. “You and your chess Nazis know all the advantages, don’t you? Make sure you play white and you’d kick the ass of the Gaia crew’s Seth before he even took a pawn, right?” Chris storms out of the tent, narrowly avoiding tripping over the scattered ball bearings.

  “Does white really have an advantage in chess?” I ask.

  “There are those like Berliner who make that claim,” says Jimmy. “But I disagree. The white advantage is nothing but a myth stemming from a self-fulfilling prophecy. Because you think moving first gives you an advantage, you play as if it does. Same goes for the opponent. If he perceives playing as black as putting him at a disadvantage, he’ll play that way. Personally, I prefer playing as black. I like being able to react to my opponents.”

  “Being with a black woman is one of my top unfulfilled fantasies,” says Seth.

  “Being with a woman is one of mine,” I say.

  “Only yourself to blame for that,” says Seth.

  “One of my Felicias was black,” says Jimmy.

  “Black Felicia, that sounds hot. How was she?” asks Seth.

  “The race of the girl is irrelevant for me as long as the costume is well-made and accurate. But she was good.”

  Chris reenters the tent. “Sorry about that, guys. Sometimes I lose my temper.” He insists on picking up every individual ball bearing by himself. “So what were you talking about?” Chris asks merrily.

  “I was telling them about the first move advantage myth in chess,” says Jimmy.

  “And I was sharing the fact that I’d like to have sex with a black girl but haven’t had the opportunity to yet,” says Seth.

  “That’s no myth,” says Chris. “White has a definite advantage. You can tell a lot about someone by their color pick in chess. If they insist on always being white, watch out, because that means they have no sense of fair play. They’ll eek out any advantage they can get in any situation. So I don’t trust a man who always has to be white.”

  “The advantage is all psychological,” says Jimmy. “In fact black is superior, because it allows for me to better plan a strategy.”

  “You don’t care about being black when we play,” says Chris.

  “That’s because you’re a Chaotic Neutral player. You have no rhyme or reason to your moves, so it’s impossible to plan against you. Color doesn’t matter in your case.”

  “Any sufficiently advanced strategy would appear random to a lesser mind incapable of comprehending its complexity,” says Chris. “And Seth, my first girlfriend in college was black. In fact, I lost my virginity to her.”

  “What was she like?” asks Seth.

  “I’ll tell you all about her. But first you have to reveal your sexual fetish to us.” Chris finishes collecting the ball bearings and places the contents of the game back into the box so meticulously it looks like it has never been opened. He taps his fingers on the box expectantly.

  “I told you, I’m normal to the point of banality. I don’t have a fetish,” says Seth.

  “Yes, you do! Yes, you do!” shouts Chris. “You’re like Dr. McCoy in Star Trek V. What you’ve got buried deep down inside you is causing you more pain than all of us put together. Now spill it!”

  “Mine doesn’t cause me any pain,” I say.

  “Like Seth said, just wait until your girlfriend finds out what kind of porn you’re watching and then it will
,” says Chris.

  “Maybe Seth really doesn’t have any fetishes,” says Jimmy.

  “I’m really into threesomes,” says Seth.

  “We know that,” says Chris. “And what guy doesn’t fantasize about that to some extent? Come on, I know there’s something else. What is it? Are you a necrophile?”

  “Jesus, Chris,” I say.

  “There is one thing,” says Seth.

  “Aha! What is it?” demands Chris.

  “Blondes,” says Seth. “Ever since I was about five years old I’ve always had a thing for blondes. My first cartoon crush I had back when I was little, it was on a blonde.”

  “That’s no fetish. It’s a preference,” says Chris.

  “Not necessarily,” says Jimmy. “It depends how extreme a desire it is. If blonde is the only color he’ll tolerate, if it truly is all-consuming, that would count as a fetish. Although his desire to be with a black woman would seem to eliminate that possibility, it could be argued that he desires to experience the perverse thrill of enjoying the polar opposite of his fetish.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” says Chris. “Like if you got Salma Hayek grabbing at your crotch whispering ‘take me’ and you’re all like ‘sorry honey but you’re a Latina’ and even a dyed blonde wouldn’t do it either because you’re borderline embracing the belief of Nordic purity, well then yeah, that’d be an acceptable fetish.”

  “If it were based on racial philosophy it wouldn’t be a sex fetish,” I say. “Then it’d be more of a genealogical thing.”

  “It’s not that extreme,” says Seth. “I just prefer blondes is all.”

  “Who was your first cartoon crush?” asks Jimmy.

  “Lillibit from the The Littl’ Bits,” says Seth. “It was this show about these tiny Smurf-sized people and Lillibit was this cute blonde in a red dress and pointed hat. She was adorable. Had a huge crush on her.”