It was decided that we would shake the dice to determine who would go first. My opponent threw a 5. My throw was a 2. My opponent smirked at me.
"Beginning as you mean to carry on, Mac?" she said, triumph permeating her features.
"Just lulling you into a false sense of security, Stan," I retorted.
The exchange of insults had been a regular feature of the entire tournament. We had played countless games. Now we were at the final one. The stakes were high. I just hoped that the dice would favour me.
My opponent shook the dice again, in the hope of throwing a 6 and thus being able to get out of the 'jungle' straight away. Fortunately, in this she was foiled, the dice landing as a 4. Wordlessly, she replaced the dice in the shaker and handed it to me. Now was my chance. I shook the dice. It was only a 3. I gave the dice and shaker back to her.
She got a 2. I got a 4. She got a 3. I got another 4. She threw a 5. I got another 4.
"You've got '4 disease'," she quipped, not pleasantly.
"At least I'm consistent," I replied.
My opponent threw a 6. She tried to take it impassively, but I saw her eyes light up with triumph. She picked up the first of her four counters, and placed it on the square with the blue arrow. In accordance with the rules, she threw again, and got a 4. She counted her piece on 4 spaces.
Now it was my turn. I shook the dice. It came out of the shaker as a 5. So close! I thought to myself. But just being close wasn't good enough.
My opponent threw again and got a 1. With a look of mild disgust on her face, she pushed her counter on 1 space, moving into the red (tiger) territory. I threw the dice and got only a 2. My opponent now threw another 6, followed by a 2. This was no good. She was now a whole quarter round the board, whereas I had not even emerged from the jungle yet!
Seeming to read my thoughts, my opponent pushed the dice towards me. "Good luck," she said, spitefully.
I ignored her comment and took the dice. This time I got another 5. She took the dice back and got a 3. She pushed her piece on 3 spaces, while I threw the dice and got a 1. Useless! She threw and got a 5, moving into my territory. If I came out of the 'jungle' now, she would be able to chase me and catch me!
And so pervesely, I got a 6. Reluctantly, I put a piece on the green arrow. I threw again and got a 1. In a flash my opponent was after me. She threw a 6 as well, landing well and truly on my piece. I was banished back to the 'jungle', having wasted my first 6. She threw again and got a 3.
The only good aspect about the whole sorry situation was that my opponent's piece was past my arrow, so if I threw a 6 now, I could chase her. With this hope in mind, I raised the shaker and threw (oh joy!) a 6! I glanced up at my opponent's face and saw her spiteful visage dissolve. She was really afraid. I had her now!
I needed a 4 to administer the killing blow, and I was ready. I shook again. As if the gods were deliberately taunting me, I got a 3. My opponent's spirits lifted almost immediately. She took the shaker and threw. The dice roll was a 1. Now I needed to get a 2 in order to send her back to the 'jungle'. I got another 3. Now I would have to overtake her.
This was very bad indeed. I couldn't face having to go back to the 'jungle' twice in one minute. Fortunately, she did not throw a 1. That would have been more than I could take. She pushed her counter on to a space that was 4 past mine. I readied myself to get a 4.
But still the gods did not smile upon me. I threw only a 2. My prey was escaping me.
"Not doing so well today, are you, Little Mac?" my opponent said.
"There's nothing wrong with my performance," I said, but my heart wasn't really in it. The truth of the matter was that, in my prime, I would have sent this counter back to the 'jungle' several throws ago. My performance was declining. One day, one day soon, even if I did win this match on which so much hinged, my position would be challenged, and I would be unable to defend myself. It was a sobering thought.
My opponent threw a 5. Now I would have to get a 6 and then a 1 in order to catch up. I tried my best but could only manage a 2. My opponent was 5 spaces ahead, even before she took her throw. She had won this particular round, and she knew it. It was reflected in her face. She threw a 3, and was in her own territory again. She only had to move on seven more spaces to be totally safe.
I shook the shaker vigorously, as if that could make any difference to the final dice roll. It didn't, of course. I got a 5 - better than nothing, of course, but not the hoped for 6. My opponent displayed no fear. She threw a 4 and moved accordingly.
I threw again. I looked at the result and then looked again, disbelievingly. It was a 6! I was right behind her! I moved my counter along, grinning inanely to myself. My opponent watched keenly.
But of course I didn't throw a 1. I threw a 3. There was no longer any possibility of my being able to catch this piece - but it was still possible that this counter could send me back to the 'jungle'. I tensed. If my opponent threw a 2, then that was where I was headed.
Thankfully, though, my opponent threw no such value. A four landed on the board. She was on her 'safe' path, and needed only another 4 to have her first piece 'home', whereas I wasn't even half way round the board.
"You were lucky, Mac," she said to me.
I didn't lower myself to reply. She was right, of course, but I wouldn't give her the satisfaction of knowing that. I threw a 2. Now this really wasn't fair. The throw put me right on her blue arrow. If she threw another 6, I would go right back to the 'jungle'. I inhaled involuntarily.
The tension was unbearable as she raised the shaker quite high and upended it. The dice came out. It landed on the board and rolled slowly along the table. For a long, long moment, it teetered between 6 and 5. Then, it fell and landed on 5. I let out the breath I had not even realised I was holding. My opponent scowled. She couldn't move any of her pieces.
Now was my chance to catch up, before she could get any other pieces out! I rolled the dice and threw a 5. A good start, I thought. I pushed my counter on into the red territory. She seized the shaker as soon as it was politely respectable to do so, and threw it. She got a 2, and moved her counter 2 spaces nearer to 'home'.
I smiled insincerely at her, and took the shaker back. This time I got a 6. Things really were looking up! I put one of my other pieces on my green arrow. This was good strategy. If actions like this were made, one can avoid long waits like the one my opponent was currently experiencing. I threw for a second time. This throw was also a 6. Smiling genuinely now, I moved my counter on 6 places, putting me in a position half way through the red territory. I took my third throw and got a 2, which put me on the red arrow. This could have been serious, if there had been more than two players. If anyone was being red, this would put me at their mercy.
"My performance isn't so bad now, Stan," I said, spotting a Mint Imperial on the table, and popping it into my mouth.
My opponent gave me a look of pure venom and threw the dice. She got another 2, moving her piece into the area marked as 'home'. "At least I've got one 'home', Mac," she retorted.
"Worry not, Stan," I said, confidently. "Such an honour will belong to me shortly as well."
I threw the dice and got a 3. I moved my counter on. My opponent took the shaker and emptied it. The dice landed as a 6. A sadistic smile spread across my opponent's features.
"Don't be so sure, Mac," she said, and threw again. She got another 6. She was catching me up! She threw the dice for her third throw, and got a 4. I needed to get a fairly large throw, if I were to stay out of her reach until I got 'home'. Fortunately, I got a 4, which was good enough. It placed me back in my own territory again.
A quick flurry of dice shaking followed. She got a 2. So did I. She threw a 6 and sped after me. But then she got a 5 and was in front of me. I smiled grimly and threw the dice. A beatific smile spread across my features as rage consumed hers. I had a 1, and her piece was back in the 'jungle'!
"Excellent," I muttered to myself, but she snarled at me, evidently not sharing my opinion. She threw the dice, and was out of the 'jungle' again immediately! I couldn't believe it. She was clearly really committed to winning this game. And who could blame her? With all that rested on this match, she couldn't afford to lose. Her next throw gave her a 2. She advanced 2 spaces.
I got a 5 and went up the 'path'. This particular counter was now safe. I could concentrate now on the other that waited on the green arrow.
My opponent threw a 6. She really was intent on winning. I wondered how she was getting the energy to throw all these 6s, but reasoned that it would wear her out soon. Her second throw was a 4. She was nearly quarter of the way round the board already, only her second turn after coming out of the 'jungle'.
I was going to have to move fast in order to combat a foe this determined. I rolled the dice and was not pleased to see only a 3. This was not very good when compared to her previous throw. At this rate, she would catch me up in only two turns. She threw a 4.
"Slowing down, Stan?" I asked her.
"Not at all," she retorted. "I'm still going faster than you are."
This was indisputable. I threw the dice as hard as I could and got only a 4. At least I had equalled her. I leaned back, the sweat streaming down my brow at the effort. She smiled unpleasantly when she saw it.
"You're out of shape," she said. "Easy pickings for those such as I."
"You can think that if you like, Stan," I said.
She threw a 5, it not seeming to cost her any effort at all. She pushed her counter on easily, her arms moving fluidly. I picked up the shaker. It was heavy. It took all my effort to roll the dice out, and when I looked to see what the result was, my vision was blurred. I leaned forward to bring the number into focus, but couldn't stop myself falling onto the table.
"I'm sorry ..." I tried to say. "I don't feel so good." But it came out more like, "Jurassic committee ... Tongue juice supplanted in the afternoon."
"Jurassic committee," my opponent repeated, and if I'd been able to see her mouth, I'd have seen that she was smiling with the knowledge of one who has done their job well. "Tongue juice supplanted in the afternoon, indeed!" She snorted. "You're finished, Mac. My evil plot has done for you."
"You poisoned the Mint Imperial," I accused. Unfortunately, it didn't come out quite as I'd intended, and I actually said, "Waddle master cake sauce."
She seemed to understand anyway. "You're right," she said. She stood up. "I think we can safely assume that I have won this game. You won't live to finish it." She walked gracefully away from the table. I slumped to the floor and died. That was where my daughter found me, two days later. The police are still looking for "Stan". But they'll never find her.