I'm not ashamed to admit it, not at all. I've decided I better come clean or this is gonna haunt me and my mama's ghost until we both end up floating around Purgatory with the other half-sinners.

When I was about seven or eight (who knows, these days), my dad would invite me and my sisters into the living room to play Monopoly. We all knew that "play Monopoly" was code for watch Dad drink and pretend that what he was saying made sense. If we slipped up - a smirk, a wayward glance, a "yes" or "no" spoken at the wrong time - my dad would quietly put down his glass of bourbon and sigh.

When he sighed, the game was over.

The offending child knew the jig was up. The other children would scatter, and the doomed child would sit and wait - just wait while Dad stared at the table, just wait while Dad fiddled with the Monopoly dog, just wait while Dad rubbed his eyes and shook his head. Just wait.

This night, this time, he kept on muttering "I thought they knew," and his glassy eyes bespoke of confusion and bewilderment. I scratched at the hole on the knee of my frayed K-Mart jeans and then...

CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE:
VOTE A FOR: continue the waiting game and hope Dad falls asleep
VOTE B FOR: turn into a dragon and fly away from this house, away from this town and this life for good
VOTE C FOR: roll the Monopoly dice