The Game Of Life

I’m sure that people have played the game of Life, you know, with the board and the dice and shit. The board with such spaces as “get married,” or “pay day.” They should add a space called “suicide,” and if you land there you should smile and nod and leave gracefully. Sorry, sir. You’ve lost the game. Sorry, I say, try again some other day! Sorry, there is no feasible way out – at least not for awhile. Sorry, you get to sit there and watch the rest of us play. Sorry, you are a loser.

You’ve probably been, at some point in your long, depressed life, an unwilling participant in such a game (or a similar game in the same genre, perhaps Monopoly.) In my family there are many such people. A game of this type will go on for hours, and eventually someone, exasperated and hungry, will proclaim the game to be over. “Fuck this game,” they say, standing up and lurching towards the kitchen in search of some ice cream, their feet having been in one place for so long. “I’m done playing; I’m nearly bankrupt anyway.”

Real life is a board game. A life-sized version of…Life. Pay day, collect money. Get married. Go on a honeymoon. Get a job. Get married. What, I got married again? I’m now cheating on my first wife. And…I’m supposed to go on a honeymoon? Another one?

Land on Reading Railroad, buy it for $200. Land on Boardwalk, pay $2,000 to the asshole who has the hotel. Bankrupt. Sorry, you lose.

Roll the dice in your game of Life, move to the next square.

Suicide, it says.

Sorry, sir. You’ve lost the game. Sorry, I say, try again some other day! Sorry, there is no feasible way out – at least not for awhile. Sorry, you get to sit there and watch the rest of us play. Sorry, you are a loser.

You didn’t ask to land on the suicide square; but, then again, you never asked to play to begin with. Wouldn’t you rather be dead? To not think, to not feel? Are you, then, a loser? Do I even want to sit and watch the rest of you play more god damn Life? Do I want to try again another day? Shouldn’t I be glad that the suicide square has gotten me out of a game that shall last for another eternity? Is it really my decision, or is it just the luck of the dice? Should I care? Should anybody care?

Sorry, you lose. Go get some ice cream. Be free of this silly game. Lurch to your feet, and be gone.

Towards the kitchen; towards freedom.