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As far as other properties were concerned, naturally I’d snap up Baltic Avenue as soon as that became available.

“How much is that son of a bitch? Sixty bucks? Gimme that mother. I gotta have a place to live.”

About the best thing I’d ever own would be one or two properties in the light blue series. Maybe Oriental Avenue. No houses, of course. Just an excavation or two. That’s about all I ever had on my property—plans. Surveyor’s marks. I just couldn’t get financing. All my friends would have shopping centers, malls, condominiums, industrial parks. And they liked to rub it in.

“Oh boy, Carlin, you’re comin’ down my side of the board now! Get ready to pay up!”

“Ohh, no! Please God, gimme a big one.”

Then I’d roll.

“Hot shit!! A twelve! Thank you, God! JUMP! JUMP! JUMP! JUMP! JUMP! JUMP! JUMP! JUMP! JUMP! JUMP! JUMP! JUMP! Fuck you, Tony. I ain’t even stoppin’ on your side. Fuck you and Boardwalk, too!”

“That’s all right, Carlin, you’ll be around again.”

Of course, you can’t move your token until you remember which one is yours.

“Which one is mine? Am I the hat? I could swear I was the hat. No, that was yesterday. Wait! I know. The racing car. I’m the racing car. Hey, who’s the ship? Richie, are you the ship?”

“No, he’s not the ship, I’m the ship. I get the ship every game. Don’t even touch the ship.” Tony was the biggest guy.

None of them wanted to be the iron. Too feminine.

The worst token to have was the ca