Author's Notes: A fun little game my friends and I play when we get really, really bored. It's a lot harder than it seems - try it some time.
Many Words Begin With T
"Total."
"Tap."
"Tracy."
"You can't use that, House."
"Why not?"
"It's a name."
"So?"
"You can't use names, countries or numbers. It's the rules."
"Fine. Thymus."
"Ooo, good one."
"Thanks."
"We've already used that one."
"I'm aware of that, Wilson. Um...turtle."
"Throttle."
"Trot."
"Trotting."
"I just used that!"
"You're allowed to use a form of the same word, House."
"This is stupid. What kind of game is this, anyways?"
"My friends I played it all the time when I was young."
"Wow, you must have had some really boring friends."
"House..."
"Thatch."
"Tooth."
"Tap dance."
"You can't use that, House."
"Why not?"
"Because it's two words, and we've already used tap anyway. Try again."
"Try."
"Theater."
"Thyme."
"We already used that. I said time right before you said terror."
"No, you meant it as in time, the thing you can measure with a clock. I meant it, as in the herb."
"Doesn't matter, House. You can't use the same word under a different definition."
"The herb 'thyme' is spelled t-h-y-m-e."
"Oh."
"Do we have to play this?"
"Termite."
"Typography."
"Typewriter."
"Trash. Kind of like what we're stuck under, ironically."
"We're not stuck underneath trash, House, we're just stuck under a bunch of heavy boxes. Besides, the night janitor will be down here soon, and he'll hear that we're trapped and free us."
"Oh! Trapped!"
"No, that's mine."
"Bastard. You should be nice—I'm the one who's injured here."
"You have a concussion, House, which means you have to stay awake. Which is the only reason we're playing this ridiculous game in the first place."
"And because you were bored."
"I was not. I would have been quite content to lay here quietly, trapped under the mounds of boxes that you knocked over in the first place, which is why we've been down here for God knows how—"
"Turpentine."
"What?"
"I said turpentine."
"I know... tattletale."
"Tsunami."
"Tornado."
"Okay, um... teleport."
"Transvestite."
"What?"
"It's a word, Wilson."
"I know that. What I don't want to know is why that came to your mind. Um..."
"What's the matter. Did I throw you off?"
"No."
"Then let's hear it."
"Um... tooth."
"We've already used tooth. Right after you said I couldn't use tap dance."
"Right."
"It's still your turn."
"I know that! Um... traffic."
"Transsexual."
"House!"
"It's a word! Look it up!"
"That might be a little hard, House, considering that we don't usually get dictionaries shipped in with boxes of Latex gloves and suture kits."
"It sure feels like we've got a load of dictionaries sitting on top of us. Unabridged dictionaries."
"I concur."
"Are you sure that you can't move one of those boxes?"
"Yes. Whose turn is it?"
"Yours."
"Ah. Tongue."
"Testicles."
"...Maybe we should play a new game."
"I'm starting to like this game. You're just sore because you're losing."
"Can we switch to a different letter, House?"
"Which one? Can we switch to S?"
"No. How about V?"
"Okay. Vagin—"
"Maybe we should stick with T."
"You're no fun."
"I do try. Tassel."
"Triangle."
"Trill."
"Tampon."
"House!"
"What's the matter? You're a doctor."
"Entirely beside the point. That's—it's not—"
"You're blushing."
"I am not."
"You are."
"It's pitch black down here! How could you tell anyway?"
"I can feel it. Your cheek is up against my hand."
"I'm not blushing. And I have no problem with the word 'tampon'."
"Then what's wrong?"
"You're incorrigible, House... just take your turn already."
"Is tang a word?"
"No."
"Okay then... tangle."
"Triumph."
"Triumvirate."
"..."
"What's the matter, Wilson? Can't think of a word?"
"I know another word. I just can't... remember it."
"Totalitarian."
"I know it! It's on the tip of my tongue!"
"Temperature."
"AHA! Ti—oh. Never mind."
"Never mind what? What are you snickering at, Wilson?"
"Nothing."
"Say it."
"..."
"Wilson!"
"Titties."
"..."
"..."
"I think it's time for a new game."