Posts Tagged ‘trouble’

games people play

Well, games I played. In my childhood.

That damn popping sound. I hated it, but was addicted to the game. I took no prisoners here. I went out of the way to land on your guy and send you back home and then I’d point at you and laugh. I was about ten years old when we were sitting around playing with the whole family. I couldn’t get out of the home slot. I needed a six. Pop. Pop. Pop. I kept getting 1s. Pop. 1. On my next turn, I hold the damn bubble down as hard as I can and yell “WHY CAN’T I GET A FUCKING SIX?” I let go and the dice jumps and lands. Six! It worked!

My three year old sister goes next. She holds her hand over the popper and says “GIMME FUCKING SIX!” I spent the rest of my night in my room, banned from Trouble. I could hear the popping going on for hours and my little sister saying “FUCKING SIX!” over and over. And my mother muttering “I’m going to kill her.”

Which WitchWhat is the deal with these complicated set ups? Who the hell wants to play a game that takes six hours to put together? By the time I got the last of the walls up, the first two would collapse. Fuck it. Who needs this game anyhow? Who cares which damn witch is which? I just took the little plastic kids and the little plastic mice and some red food dye and I brought them into the bathroom and played “Let’s pretend the kids got eaten by mice and are now drowning in a pool of their own blood.” Hey, it’s better than when I found my son in the bathroom playing Bobbing for Barbie Heads.

Maybe I just hated games. Because this one drove me crazy, too. I hated hearing that timer wind down. It would go faster and faster. You knew that buzz was coming and the board would pop up and the pieces would go flying. But I had to do it. I had to beat the clock. I had to get those pieces in. It was like a freaking IQ test. How many different ways can a parallelogram face anyhow? Then I’d get angry at the pieces and start yelling at them. “You are fitting in that hole. Get in there. I am not going to lose. God damn it. Get in there, time is running down!” My heart would race, my hands would shake, I’d panic and try to put the square peg in the round hole and then shit would just blow up everywhere. That’s pretty much the story of my life. I hate this game.

And fucking Monopoly. Does anyone really like Monopoly? Maybe it’s me. Maybe it’s my attention span. But I get bored after half an hour. I usually end up trying to get the ghetto colors on purpose so I can become a slumlord. You can nickel and dime someone to death by building hotels on shitty property. Just look at Atlantic City.

Eventually I’d be praying for the game to come to an end, so I’d cheat and land myself on Park Place or Boardwalk when their was enough property on them. I’d throw up my hands in feigned disgust, gather up all my property cards and hand them to the owner of the hotels I just crashed. “All yours. I give up.” Sure, I always lost at Monopoly. But I always lost on purpose. Which makes me a winner. Because while everyone else continued playing long after I was gone, I was in my room watching CHIPS while they were bickering over the proper usage of Free Parking.

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