The perfect plan is in place. You’ve been working on it for hours. You own the railroads, the utilities, the yellows, AND the greens. Both Get Out of Jail Free cards are sitting in front of you, gleaming like a newly acquired insurance policy. Sure, you’ve recently fallen upon hard times, but now your thimble is positioned ever-so-critically upon the Short Line Railroad. All you need to do is pass Go, and you’ll be in the clear.
You cradle the dice in your sweaty, shaking hands, eying the shiny red hotel atop that infernal blue box. Anything but a four. Anything but a four. What are the odds of rolling a four anyway? you shout at your opponent. Like a billion to one?? You blow into your fists, declare that papa needs a new pair of shoes, and let the little cubes of fate dance onto the table.
They tumble and roll, bouncing across the board like a couple of drunken pigeons. Deftly avoiding the houses you’ve built on Marvin Gardens and prancing delicately past the top hat, they finally come to a rest directly atop the stern face of Uncle Pennybags. Both you and your opponent lean over in anticipation. Staring back at you, with a distinct air of mockery: a one and a three.
Your opponent launches directly into a celebratory song and victory dance, while you continue to sit there, gaping in shock. What did you ever do to deserve this? You paid your school taxes! You took care of those street repairs! You were even elected chairman of the friggin’ board, for Pete’s sake! What the HELL?!
Shock is slowly but surely replaced by rage. You hurl your thimble across the room. You tear up paper money into shards, throwing them into the air, where they rain down upon you like happy confetti. This opposite effect only further infuriates you. You pelt your opponent with houses. You demolish the Bank. You drop-kick the board out the window. Nothing remains but a few scattered Chance cards and a lonely dog.
So if you want to suck at life, land on Boardwalk. You can destroy the game, but only the game can destroy your pride.