I literally have my favorite part of that copied to gmail just in case the Shoot Club entry somehow vanishes from the internet!
“Excuse me for a moment.” I head for the restroom and close myself into a toilet stall to call my house on the cell phone. Someone picks up. I hear the sound and the fury in the background. A pulse rifle and then, “Hello?”
“Who is this?” I ask.
“Who is this?” Trevor says.
“It’s me.”
“Who’s me? Whoa, whoa, hey you bitch, stop shooting me, I’m on the goddamn phone! Hello?”
“Trevor, it’s me.”
“We’re still at dinner. Becky brought her sister along.”
“Man, you are so lucky. That’s cool. How come a chick never did something like that for me?”
“It’s not like that. So how’s the game?”
“It really rocks. Game of the year, all the way.” He tells me about Survivor mode, where everyone’s a Marine except one player, who’s an alien. When a Marine gets killed, he respawns as an alien. Gradually, the tide turns and the Marines are outnumbered. You score by staying alive as a Marine as long as you can. Cowering in a corner, evading the aliens’ pheromone tracking. Holding them back with the biggest weapon you can find. Banding together with the other surviving Marines and covering each other’s backs. Watching the walls, the ceilings, all those inscrutable duct openings, the readings on your motion tracker.
“It’s just like the movie,” Trevor beams, “If I had a nickel for every time someone said ‘remember, short controlled bursts’ or ‘I got movement’.”
“How are the weapons?”
“Man, there are some really cool ones. The aliens have these new abilities, too.”
“And you can still eat the heads off the humans, right?”
“Yeah, they got that effect with the teeth. Get this, you can be a face hugger.”
“No way. What do you do, impregnate your victims?”
“Yeah.”
“Then you eat the bodies, right?”
“Yeah, for health.”
“Look, don’t let anyone leave. I’m going to try to get home as early as possible.”
I come out of the stall and there’s a man staring at me like I’m some kind of freak. He must have heard stuff about eating human heads, impregnating victims, and not letting anyone leave. “It’s this game we play,” I start to say, but I figure that just makes it sound worse.