This is pointless, out of character, and would probably never happen, but it's not exactly crackfic either. I guess you could say I was practicing building tension, but I don't think I did a good job. XD I hope you enjoy.

"Crud, Tucker! What did you have to go and do that for?!" Sam fumed at her friend. He'd made inappropriate innuendo about her and Danny, lied to her about throwing up in her lunch box, and eaten more pounds of meat than she could care to count, but this – this was the last straw.

"Now, uh, Sam. Let's be reasonable," Tucker warned, although it was more for his sake than hers. They were in the park with Jazz (although she was some meters away, reading a book – she must be nearly finished), and had been sitting on the bench, watching Dash and his dog play a game of Frisbee when Tucker had done the absolute unspeakable. Barely avoiding an attack from Sam, he had jumped up, backing away as Sam followed. Tucker made a path around the bench Danny was still relaxing on with a satisfied smile on his face as the African-American boy attempted to make his case. "Technically, it wasn't my fault. Dash just threw the Frisbee, and it was really close to us, and it made me think –"

"And that's always a dangerous thing, as we know," Sam interrupted him, making a steady pace toward him as he stumbled backwards even more. Danny chuckled.

"Hey, now," cried Tucker indignantly, "I can think just as well as any of you!"

Danny pointed to his friend. "And it was probably the last thought you'll ever have. Nice going."

"Danny, help me. You don't want it to end like this, do you? With Sam's boot up my –"

"Actually, that makes for a pretty amusing picture."

Finally, Tucker tripped, and he scrambled back up again only to slip back to the ground. Sam was nearly upon him now, looking more menacing with every step. He crawled away, trying to get farther from this dark threat.

"C'mon, Sam!" he pleaded, but she took no notice – until Jazz came over, apparently done reading. "Hey guys, what'cha up to?"

Trying to draw attention away from Tucker's dire situation, Danny pointed at Dash and his dog. "We're just enjoying the view. A boy and his dog. Of course, if mom and dad had let ME get a puppy, we would –"

"Danny," she interrupted him before he could go off on a tangent, "What's Dash looking for?"

Danny glanced around, pretending to see what she was talking about, but looking for Sam and Tucker. He saw them on a nearby bench, Tuck holding his ribs gingerly and Sam with her arms folded. He turned back to Jazz. "Well, I think –"

"Hey! Fen-ton!" Dash came over, then he noticed Jazz and added an awkward, ".ss. This is your fault! I've lost it!"

Jazz suddenly looked absolutely infuriated, but Danny took no notice. "Lost what?" he asked.

"My Frisbee."

Danny smiled, and pointed at the bench where tucker and Sam were sitting. Tucker apparently healed, was holding the Frisbee. "Hey Dash!" He called. "Lose something?"

Danny chuckled at the irony, and he saw Sam crack a smile from where he was. Tucker took off running.

"Foley, get back here!"

Dash took off after the smaller boy, and Danny turned to Jazz and realized that her furious look had not left her face. "What's wrong?"

Then, Jazz repeated what Tucker said not even fifteen minutes before;

"Dash made me lose the Game!"

Lawlz. You all just lost the Game. If you don' know what it is, it's really simple. There are three short rules, and if you really wanna know (or are just bored) go to www .losethegame. com (lose the spaces).

This is in honor of all my friends who look ready to kill when I make them lose the Game!