The contents of my dice bag lay scattered about the bedroom floor. The knot on the end of little draw string which normally holds the bag closed had come undone, gravity ensued, and demonstrated why its the law. A d6 here, a d8 over there under the dresser, like numbered stars in a carpeted universe they speckled the floor.
I tie the end of the broken string with the best square knot I can muster and pass it over the flame of a lighter to seal the deal. One by one I pick up the numbered polygons.
“Where the hell is my D20?” I mentally shouted.
Click click scratch, the red opaque 'Lady Luck' casino squares rolled along the flat surface of Grandma's dining room table while my cousin Jackie yelled out something about “double sixes.” The name of the game, Monopoly, the goal, beat the girls and ensure my tyrannical reign of the Boardwalk is never threatened.
I take a sip from the purple twisty straw sticking out of the 7up can in front of me. Its color changing to a shade of neon blue as the cool soda passes around its many curves.
“Cool, Needo! What color does yours turn?” The girls yell at one another.
The subsequent sound of slurping soda and prepubescent girlie giggles soon filled the kitchen.
“Grandma, Grandpa come quick look at this!” My cousin Jackie exclaimed.
Half expecting to see one of us with our hand down the garbage disposal both grandparents appear out of nowhere.
“Our twisty straws change color when you drink from them!”
“Mine turns blue!” I yell.
Alternating sound of hot and cold water running under the kitchen sink fill the house for quite some time after words, that is until our grandparents arms were unable to lift us up to the sink anymore. With no more soda and fresh out of grandparents to lift us up for entertainment, we returned to our game. The aluminum car, thimble, and dog glint under the light of the chandelier, I picked up the dice and prepared to roll...
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