Totally Unrelated by Tom; Ryan

One
    It’d be a lot easier to kill Bert, my best buddy since kindergarten, if I could find the guy. I know he’s somewhere in this massive abandoned warehouse—there’s no way out, for either of us. I’m locked and loaded and adrenaline is coursing through my veins, but if he tracks me down first, none of that matters.
    I move slowly down the dimly lit hallway, my back against the wall. When I get to the corner where the corridor makes a right turn, I stop and take a second to gather my nerves, then quickly flip around and make my move, hoping to catch him by surprise. Unfortunately, Bert has the same idea, and before I realize what’s happening, he’s jumped out in front of me from behind a pile of packing crates.
    I yell as I start shooting, but he’s too quick for me, and the bazooka he’s packing unloads, tossing me backward in slow motion. I slam into a pile of rubble as Game Over Sucker scrolls across the screen to the sound of some kind of futuristic sad trombone. I whip my joystick at the couch on the other side of the room and try to ignore Bert’s hoots and hollers. Not always the easiest task, considering he’s the loudest person I know.
    â€œYes!” he yells. “Yes! Yes! Eat my dust, loser!”
    I get up to leave.
    â€œAw, c’mon,” he says. “One more game.”
    â€œSorry, man,” I say, grabbing my hoodie from the couch. “Gotta bounce. Big family dinner tonight.”
    Bert’s an only child, and, as annoying as he can be, his basement is pretty much my refuge from the world, especially during the summer. He even has his own bathroom. It usually stinks, but still. My house is packed to the rafters—one senior citizen; two middle-agers; three, sometimes four, teenagers; and two preteen girls in a four-bedroom house with one and a half bathrooms. You do the math.
    â€œYou guys have a big family dinner every night,” he says.
    â€œYeah, but Kathy gets home from college today, so my parents want everyone there.”
    â€œOh, really?” he says. “How’s old Kathy doing, anyway?” I know this isn’t an innocent question. Bert has been in love with my older sister since the moment girls stopped being gross.
    â€œI haven’t seen her yet,” I tell him. “She’s supposed to land this afternoon sometime.”
    â€œMake sure she knows I’m around in case she’s feeling lonely.”
    â€œWhatever, man,” I say. “Catch you later.”
    I’m already halfway up the stairs when he yells after me, “Oh hey, Neil, wait!”
    â€œWhat?” I call back over my shoulder.
    â€œSeriously, come here for a minute. I want to show you something!”
    Reluctantly, I walk back down and stand in the doorway. “What is it? I’m going to be late.”
    He rummages in a pile of crap on the coffee table and pulls out a page torn from the newspaper. “I almost forgot,” he says. He leaps over the back of the couch and shoves the paper at me. “Check this out.”
    He’s circled an item in the community-announcements section with red pen. Deep Cove Talent Show , the caption reads.
    â€œTalent show?” I ask. “What, are you going to start juggling or something?”
    â€œNo, man,” he says. “Keep reading.”
    â€œâ€˜To help commemorate the twenty-fifth anniversary of Deep Cove Days, there will be a live talent show on the waterfront,’” I read aloud. “‘Three judges will choose the winner from local acts. Deadline for registration is July fifth. Grand prize five hundred dollars.’”
    â€œWhat do you think, man?” he asks. “Seriously.”
    â€œI don’t know,” I say. “What are you planning on doing?”
    â€œYou mean, what are we planning on doing?”
    â€œYeah right,” I say, handing him back the paper. “You want to do a magic routine? Saw me up in