Bryce ran a mean game of D&D. He didn’t follow the letter of the rules; he followed the spirit. He let us keep rolling dice until we got characters with decent ability scores so we wouldn’t all die immediately—and then, to keep things interesting, he killed us off with abandon. (I once died because giant lizard carcasses fell on me.) Bryce had the ability to herd us gamer cats into some semblance of group storytelling, and he always kept the game going. One time, when we were fighting a minotaur, someone farted, and he said, “The stench of the minotaur envelops you!”
I read a good amount of this aloud to Josh, and we both giggled like mad.