“This isn’t a game, dammit! This is serious!”
“You’re right, Oliver,” said Teddy, chewing thoughtfully on a twig of sarsaparilla. “This is serious. Serious as a June flood before harvest time. But you’re wrong if you think this isn’t a game.”
Teddy was right. He was always right. I moved my little metal car onto Park Place and paid his goddamn rent.