Child:
I think it was Miss Peacock, in the Conservatory, with the candlestick.
Mom:
Just to clarify. You’re saying that, in order to win this game, you’ve deduced that a well-to-do woman has beaten a man TO DEATH with a candlestick. Which is quite an athletic feat, not to mention that you really have to go to that place, the dark corners of the soul. I mean, should I be concerned? Should I worry that we’ve been playing a game that forces one to contemplate a grisly murder? Using bludgeoning tools that aren’t even really good for the job? I suppose it sounds more like a crime of passion, but I’m not exactly in love with the idea still. Don’t we own CandyLand still? The game where you roll dice, not even the kind you use in gambling but just one with colors on the sides, and advance through a wonderful world of candy? Where nobody is beaten bloody with a wrench? Where you don’t have to recreate and reimagine a man’s final moments, crawling away as his organs fail as a result of a brutal beating? Everything going black, maybe he says a last goodbye to his wife, more to himself really, but he uses his final breaths to just ask god if he could see the faces of his beautiful children one last time?
This is the game we’re playing?