She waited until Douglas was down to his last two life-pennies, and played the card.
"You are my hero," he said.
"You're just too young to die," said Rainie.
"There's still some more pigs," Jack pointed out.
"Not enough to kill me," said Douglas.
"But," said Tom, "what if Momma rides again!" He slapped down an evil power card that said,
"MOMMA RIDES AGAIN" causes the momma pig to come down the path twice.
"This has gone too far!" cried Cecil. "I say Momma is drunk as a skunk." He laid down a good power called "SOUSED SOW" that was supposed to keep Momma home.
"I hate do-gooders," said Raymond. He laid down an evil power card that said,
"I HATE DO-GOODERS" Allows you to cancel a Good power before it takes effect.
"So Momma rides twice," said Tom. "That'll be eight life-pennies if she makes it both times, and that plus the two babies and you could die, Douglas."
"Good to know," said Douglas. "Is this how you talk to your patients?"
"I'm a dermatologist," said Tom. "My patients don't die, they just put bags over their heads."
"Let's make sure of this," said Raymond, laying down another card.
"PIGS CAN FLY" pigs move 2 squares each step instead of 1.
"I'm dead," said Douglas. And it was true. The pigs came down the path, Momma twice, and all his life-pennies were gone.
"Dead and in hell," said Jack cheerfully.
"Boy am I nice," said Grandpa, laying down a card.
"Not `Boy Am I Nice'!" wailed Jack.
But it was the Boy-Am-I-Nice card. Grandpa took on himself all of the bad karma Douglas had gotten from Jack, leaving Douglas with no karma at all. "And that counts as good karma," said Douglas, "and so I go to heaven."
"No, no, no," moaned Jack.
"I'm in heaven while you're in hell, Jack," said Douglas. "Which is the natural order of the universe."
"Do people get to stay in heaven if they gloat?" asked Rainie.
"Absolutely. It's about the only fun thing that people in heaven are allowed to do," said Grandpa.
"And you should know, Grandpa," said Jack.
"All my old friends have gone to heaven," said Grandpa, "and not one of them is having any fun at all."
"They talk to you?" asked Rainie.
"No. They send me postcards that say `Having a wonderful time. Wish you were here.' They're all gloating."
The game went on, the power cards flying thick and fast, with everybody praying like crazy to get more power cards. When someone didn't have enough beans to pray, somebody would invariably lend him a few. And Rainie noticed that there actually was a remarkable amount of bean-stealing when people weren't looking. In the meantime, Douglas had eaten every single brown peanut M&M in the bowl. "It really does look more festive when you do that," said Rainie.
"Do what?"
"Take the brown ones out. It looks so much brighter."
"Sometimes he leaves only the red and green ones," said Raymond. "At Christmastime, especially."
Douglas got out of heaven after three turns there, and before long he had caught up with the others -- or rather, the others had been sent back or killed or whatever so often that he was about even with them. Jack, however, was never even able to get past the slime stage and up to the level of newt. "The game knows," said Douglas. "Slime thou art, and slime thou shalt remain."
"Makes me want to go wash," said Jack.
"That's a question," said Douglas. "If slime washed, what would it wash off? I mean, what seems dirty to slime?"
The game ebbed and flowed, people ganging up on each other and then, at odd moments, pitching in and helping somebody out with a good power card. Rainie began to realize that crazy as it was, this game really was like life. Even though people could only do to each other whatever was permitted by the power cards they randomly drew, it took on the rhythms of life. Things would be going great, and then something bad would happen and everything would look hopeless, and then you'd come back from the dead and the dice would be with you again and you'd be OK. They didn't take it easy on Rainie, and she played with the same gusto as everyone else, but the dice were with her, so that she seemed to make up her losses quite easily, and seemed to have exactly the power card she needed time after time.
Then Rainie prayed successfully to the Baby of Sorrow and the evil card she drew was an event, not a power.
"TAKE A BREAK" everyone relax, eat some food (at host's expense) call your spouses or whatever. After all, what's life for?
"About time!" said Tom. "I'm hungry."
"You've had your hands in the potato chips all night," said Douglas.
"That just means my hands are greasy."
"Nobody can eat just one," added Raymond.
They were already up from the table and moving toward the kitchen. "Should I draw another power card to replace this?" asked Rainie.
"Naw," said Jack. "When the card says take a break, we take a break. You can finish your turn when we get back."
In the kitchen, Douglas was nuking some lasagna.
"It doesn't have that revolting cottage cheese this time, does it?" Raymond was asking when Rainie came in.
"It's ricotta cheese," said Douglas.
"Oh, excuse me, ricotta cheese."
"And I made the second pan without it, just for you."
"Oh, I have to wait for the second pan, eh?"
"Wait for it or wear it," said Douglas.
Rainie pitched in and helped, but she noticed that none of them seemed to expect her to do the dishes. They cleaned up after themselves right along, so that the kitchen never got disgusting. They weren't really little boys after all.
The lasagna was pretty good, though of course the microwave heated it unevenly so that half of it was burning hot and the other half was cold. She carried her plate into the family room, where most of them were eating.
"They'll call them `the oughts,'" Grandpa was saying.
"They'll call what `the oughts?'" asked Rainie.
"The first ten years of the next century. You know, `ought-one,' `ought-two.' When I was a kid people still remembered the oughts, and people always talked about them that way. `Back in ought-five.' Like that."
"Yeah, but back then they still used the word ought for zero, too," said Douglas. "Nobody'd even know what it meant today."
"People won't use ought even if they ought to," said Tom. Several of the men near him dipped a finger into whatever they were drinking and flicked a little of the liquid onto Tom, who bowed his head graciously.
"What about zero?" said Raymond. "Just call the first two decades `the zeroes' and `the teens.'"
"People aren't going to say `zero-five,'" said Douglas. "Besides, zero has such a negative connotation. `Last year was a real zero.'"
"Aren't there any other words for zero?" asked Rainie.
"I've got it!" said Tom. "The zips! Zip-one, zip-two, zip-three."
"That's it!" cried Raymond.
Douglas tried it out. "`Back in zip-nine, when Junior got his Ph.D.' That works pretty well. It has style."
"`I know what's happening, you young whippersnapper,'" said Cecil, putting on an old man's voice. "`I remember the nineties! I didn't grow up in the zips, like you.'"
"This is great!" said Tom. "Let's write to our Congressman and get it made into a law. The next decade will be called `the zips!'"
"Don't make it a law, or they'll find a way to tax it," said Raymond.