THE FIXERS

One day, my brother thought it would be a great male bonding experience to play a board game with my son, so they did.

The game required each player to choose a name for their character and another for their "fixer" ‑ a person vested with magical talents.

Son: Okay. The dice says you're a dwarf. What name do you want for your character?

Brother: John Wayne.

Son: And who'll be your fixer?

Brother: (not missing a beat) Dean Martin.

So, cloaked in dual identities, the uncle sat down to bond. A few hours later, John Wayne began to despair. Despite dragging about enough armed power to foment a revolution; he’d been beaten, stomped on, shot at, and in one hair‑raising episode been forced to leap the gulf between two skyscrapers in order to save his life. Whereupon he lost all his "Karma points." His demise was inevitable.

Brother: I think I've had enough.

Son: What?

Brother: I'm through. I quit.

Son: But I've never seen anybody just quit a game of Shadowrun! ™

Brother: Keep your eyes open, kid.

Son: Are you sure?

Brother: Yeah. This is how it goes. The dwarf tosses his rotten, crummy weapons into a sewer and walks to the 7 ‑ 11. He spends his last few nickels on a lottery ticket and wins a bazillion bucks. Then he calls a taxi, goes to the airport, gets on a plane and heads to Arizona to retire.

Son: You mean it. You're really quitting.

Brother: The dwarf just wants to live a quiet life.

Son: Okay. (starts packing up the game) By the way, can I ask you a question?

Brother: Sure, kid, but make it quick. This money is burning a hole in my pocket.

Son: Who's Dean Martin?