Cancer Jiles’ ‘incentive’ to Eugene sat atop the open ‘Diablo III’ case besides his montior and, despite not having drawn anything from it, he could swear it was staring as hole right through him. It’s positioning wasn’t an accident though, Eugene had moved it from his sock draw, to his old ghostbusters lunch box, back to his sock draw before finally smuggling it down into the basement where nobody but he ventured these days.

Ever since their falling out, Wayne spent all of his time locked away in his bedroom. Only he and Jesus knew what he was doing in there though, but money on it was something that made the omnipotent Mr. Christ weep.

However, Eugene wasn’t complaining, for it was quite enjoyable down there these days, what with nobody pestering him to turn down the volume of anything, and nobody trying to force him in front of a camera. He could do what he wanted, when he wanted, and he was loving it.

One thing he wasn’t loving, however, was the way that Cancer’s present kept catching his eye, or waving at him in his peripheral vision. He could already attribute the death of one hardcore character to a staring contest with ‘the incentive’, and he was seriously risking another, despite all his attempts to avoid looking at the offending item.

‘So why did he even have it on the desk?’ I hear you ask. Well have you never been out, bought a candy bar and then tried to hold off from eating it? But rather than hide it away in the cupboard, you keep it out on display, maybe even place it on the couch arm next to you. You know, deep down in the bottom of your soul, that you don’t need that 3 musketeers bar, but you want it. You crave it. And every second you resist, you can hear Kool & The Gang in your head congratulating you on a job well done. But you know full well if you give into that temptation, that candy bar will be the greatest thing you’ve ever put in your mouth.

Now pile on the fact you’d never had chocolate before, but you’ve always heard how delicious it is.

Anyone could be forgiven for being a little tempted, right?

So when Eugene was promised the world by the COOLest cat in Defiance... well, who can blame him for wanting a taste?

Wait, I forget, are we talking about Chocolate or Marijuana?

Ahhh, if only Jiles had baked some brownies instead...

But enough of that tangent and back to the subject matter at hand. The gaze of ‘The Incentive’ had become too much for Eugene to handle, causing him to exit out of Diablo III and leave his PC. He walked over to the brown, stained couch and flopped down into the same deceptively deep cushion that he always chose to sit in.

Well, he didn’t necessarily choose to, he was forced to by Wayne, who always had to sit on the other side of the couch. Should he want to, Eugene could quite easily sit where he wanted now, but either by habit, or out of hope his brother would walk down those stairs in the corner with an apology, he remained in his spot.

“Stop it!” Eugene shouted across the room. He refused to turn around and meet the item’s gaze, but he could feel it watching him. “Damnit, Jiles!”

Leaning forwards, Eugene scooped his Xbox controller up and held in the big center ‘X’ button until the machine beneath his TV lit up. He heaved a sigh as he returned to a slouched position in his seat and fought the urge to look over his shoulder.

“No.” He said to himself, “No. You’re not doing it.”

He sat there in silence, absentmindedly flicking through the menus on his television screen, not really taking in any of the information presented to him.

“Look...” Eugene said in an attempt to convince himself to leave ‘the incentive’ alone, “Everyone knows drugs are bad. You don’t need them, you don’t want them... You’ve got a match against Michel LaLiberte coming up in a week. How the hell are you going to be able to compete if you’re high as a kite?”

Obviously Eugene never paid attention in those special assemblies taken by the local sheriff. He was probably more focused on beating his Tetris high score.

“And they say it’s a gateway drug.” He continued, “You do this and what’s next? Dope? Junk? Smack? Crack? Charlie? Blow? You gonna go shoot up in the corner while your best friend of twenty years slowly chokes to death on his own vomit? Is that what you want?”

Ok, so maybe he spaced out in the assemblies, but apparently he caught the afterschool specials.

“LaLiberte’s had a week off, he’s rested, and he’s hungry.” Eugene told himself, “What do you think’s going to happen if you show up tripping balls? He’s going to beat the everloving piss out of you, isn’t he? You need to be focused and you need to have your wits about you.”

“Who cares if he’s lost his last four or five matches, you lost a couple of the trot, didn’t you?” He asked himself, “You soon put a stop to that though. And LaLiberte’s going to look to do the same to you. You won’t stand a chance if you’re visiting sweet Mary Jane.”

He’d had enough. Eugene rose to his feet and stomped over to his desk. He grabbed the joint and carried it hurriedly over to the seldom used bin beneath the stairs. He stepped on the foot pedal to lift the lid and stood over it, looking down into the black bag lined abyss.

“Just throw it in and get on with preparing for LaLiberte...” He said quietly to himself.

But could it really be that easy?

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