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Roshambo had said “Oh no you won’t” , Spoke had said “Oh yes I will” , Roshambo had said “I don’t believe you” , Spoke had said “Watch and see” , and that was how it all started. In retrospect, Spoke maybe should have been smarter about his life choices, but a bet was a bet, and even if there was nothing on the line, Spoke had his reputation on the line. He was Spoke , the most chaotic member of the SMP—of course he’d take on any bet.
The problem was, he had no idea how to complete this one.
Spoke sighed, staring at his fingernails. How was he supposed to paint them?
What did he even paint them with ? Acrylic paint? Spoke had never painted his nails before. He’d been dropping in for a little unannounced visit to Ro’s secret base, just to take a look around (actually, to steal some golden apples), and Ro had met him and invited him to sit down cheerfully (actually, threatened him with an axe to his throat). After grilling Spoke countless times on what he was doing in his base, how he’d found his base, what he’d taken, et cetera et cetera, the usual, Ro had tried to shoo him out of his base. That was when Spoke had attempted swinging a sword (a bad idea in confined spaces, usually), and Ro had gasped in dramatized horror because his pristine purple nail polish had chipped (and it was nail polish that Mapicc had done for him). Spoke had suggested it wasn’t a big deal, and Ro had fired back with, “Why don’t you try doing it yourself?”
So now Spoke had to paint his nails.
He sighed despairingly, flopping over the side of Pangi’s porch and staring across the landscape of the server. It was hundreds of blocks up in the air and Spoke quite liked going up there to clear his head. But really—he couldn’t even paint a wall . How could he paint his nails ?
Spoke huffed, opening up his communicator. He scanned his list of contacts, finally landing on a person who was excellent at solving vastly tricky problems (such as painting nails). He pressed the call button and waited. One ring, two rings, three—
“Hello?” a voice crackled from the communicator.
“Parrot! Bro! My G!” Spoke exclaimed, flipping over and leaning over the edge of Pangi’s porch so he could see the landscape but upside-down.
“What is a G ?” Parrot asked distastefully.
Spoke cackled. “Okay, okay. For real though, um, I am in a major situation. Like. It’s a problem, you know?”
Parrot exhaled, laughing. “What’s the problem?”
“Ro challenged me to a bet. And, well, you know me, and you know bets, and you know me and bets.”
“I do know you and bets,” Parrot agreed mildly.
“Bro. It’s a difficult bet. So difficult. I have no idea how to complete it. I really need help, dude.”
“Is it another 1000 mobs bet?”
Spoke rolled his eyes, sitting up abruptly and beginning to pace around the porch. “ No dude! That is so last-last season!”
“What is it then?”
He paused for a moment just for dramatic effect. “Dude. I need to paint my nails.”
The line was silent, and then a short burst of laughter crackled over the call, static buzzing as Parrot dissolved into laughter. “That’s it ? No way dude. I thought it was like, spawn a thousand guardians or something.”
Spoke snapped his fingers. “Good idea. Haven’t done that yet.”
“No, dude. You just need to paint your nails?”
“It’s an impossible task!” Spoke exclaimed despairingly.
Parrot snickered. “Dude, come over to our base.”
“What, now? I have a bet to complete!”
“Yes, now . I’ve got nail polish here, I’ll do your nails.”
Spoke gasped. Could it really be that easy? And besides that— Parrot ? How did Parrot know how to do nails? Spoke didn’t think he’d ever seen Parrot wear nail polish before. Or had he? Spoke really didn’t remember to be honest. He didn’t pay too much attention to people’s nails. “Wait, okay, that’s amazing bro. I’m on my way!”
Spoke took the easy (if risky; he did it for the adrenaline rush) way down, by launching himself off Pangi’s base. For a few brief moments, it felt as if he was flying, before he plunged into a nearby river. Jumping out of the river, he dashed towards their base. He slammed open the door a few minutes later, entering through the narrow villager trading hall.
Parrot glanced up from rummaging through a chest. “Bro, what colors do you want?”
Spoke bounded over, peering in the chest. He gasped. Inside was an array of nail polish bottles, gleaming in various glittery and glossy shades. Parrot withdrew a small black pouch, opening it to pull out a nail file and some mysterious bottles. “So? What colors?” Parrot asked again.
Spoke shook his head hurriedly, clearing his mind. He’d been momentarily distracted by the bright colors and shiny glass bottles. Parrot watched in amusement. “You have such a goldfish brain.”
“I do not ! Wait—can I have rainbow nails?! Wait, I also want black nails though. Wait, glitter . Dude, I can’t decide!”
Parrot raised an eyebrow. “Goldfish brain.”
Spoke vividly imagined a blob of grey matter in the shape of a goldfish, before swatting that thought away. “Okay, okay, can I have rainbow or black? Or both, at the same time, if that’s possible. With glitter. I don’t know.”
Parrot nodded. “Yeah, I can do that.”
He drew out ten various colors of glittery nail polish from the chest, along with a matte black polish, balancing them all in his arms. After directing Spoke to sit down at a table with a jerk of his chin, Parrot arranged the nail polish in rainbow order on the table, sitting down across from Spoke. He held out a hand. Spoke stared at it, confused.
“Your hand?”
“Oh! Right.”
Spoke held out both his hands. Parrot took one, picking up a nail file. Spoke watched in fascination as Parrot drew the file across his nails neatly, sharpening them to stiletto points. After he filed all the nails on both of Spoke’s hands, he picked up a bottle labeled Cuticle Oil and let a drop fall on each nail.
“How do you know how to do nails?” Spoke asked curiously.
Parrot raised a hand and let his bird-like claws protract, speaking for themselves. Typically, they looked like regular human fingernails (if a bit sharp) when retracted, but Spoke had seen Parrot use his claws in combat before. It was mildly terrifying, which made Spoke quite happy that he was on the same side as him. “They need a lot of care if you’re constantly retracting and protracting them,” Parrot explained. “It’s an avian thing.”
“Like wolverine,” Spoke said sagely, nodding along.
“… if you say so,” Parrot said, giving him a dubious look.
He picked up a nail buffer, scraping along each of Spoke’s nails a couple times. Once he was done, he squeezed a drop of alcohol onto each and wiped it off with a towel. Shaking the first nail polish bottle (a glittery red), Parrot began to apply the polish to Spoke’s nails. “Sit still,” Parrot ordered.
Spoke, obviously, didn’t sit still. The polish smeared onto his fingers plenty of times, and Parrot shot a glare at him every time he did it, but didn’t say anything, just cleaning it up each time. He applied two coats of each glittery color, one color on each nail, turning Spoke’s hand into a veritable rainbow. Afterwards, Parrot took the matte black. “You actually have to sit still for this one.”
Spoke sighed dramatically, but complied. Meticulously, Parrot added black accents and patterns onto the glittery rainbow nails—wavy lines on one, an outline of the nail tip on another. The care with which he painted the patterns was striking almost; it wasn’t something that was commonplace on this server. Finally, he brushed a glossy clear layer over the top.
“You have to be careful for an hour so it sets,” Parrot said.
Spoke tilted back in his chair, grinning wildly and holding up his hands. “Dude, this is so cool! Thanks bro!”
It was probably a good thing for the server, since those nails were the reason that Spoke kept his grubby little hands off of creating chaos for at least an hour. Of course, most people had no idea for the reason, and were simply grateful for the brief respite from Spoke’s shenanigans. Except for Ro, of course, who was haunted like a ghost by a taunting and well-manicured Spoke for much too long of a time.