Queen Frostine Can Go Fuck Herself.

There's the right thing to do and the wrong thing. Or so they'll lead you to believe.

You score a 26 on the ACTs and you move up two spaces.

You register for classes and sign your life away to Sallie Mae, take two turns.

You blow off college at the last second and go to work overnights in a string of warehouses, take two steps back.

You sublet a two-bedroom apartment in North Minneapolis, invite your girlfriend to move in, buy a deranged cat with a nervous disorder, and move out a year later when the only guy with his name on the lease falls in to a deep depression, quits his job, takes up a serious drinking habit, and gets evicted, well, let's just say the Candy Castle is getting further away by the second.

So, you crash at her parent's house for awhile, start to hate each other and you're back to the house you grew up in, sleeping in the basement on a matress on the floor. You're not out of the game yet, though. You might be hanging out around the Plum Forest a bit longer than you'd like, but you're young.

In between third-shifts stocking shelves at the Home Depot, you find time to have a little unprotected sex with your ex-girlfriend and here's where the game starts to get tricky.

A couple weeks later, you wake up to the call. "I'm pregnant," she says. Lose next turn.

At least you've got a partner in the game now. At least now you're grabbing cards two at a time. There's still a chance you land on the Rainbow Bridge and you get to jump ahead. You can just jump right over everyone else and get back on the right path.

You ask anyone, they'll tell ya, the right thing to do here is pretty clear.

So you get accepted for a job doing something you enjoy. No more 9pm - 5am shifts stacking paint cans on the high-shelves. Instead, you've got the opportunity of a lifetime. Someone says, "You're good enough for this. It doesn't pay, but this time next year, you'll be buying a house off your god-given talents and some hard work."

But still, you're supposed to be doing the right thing here. So, you say, sorry. I'm gonna be a daddy soon. I gotta do the right thing. Thanks, but no thanks.

They say, "Don't be an idiot. Plenty of guys raise children while they're doing this. It's hard work, but you're a smart guy. You can handle it."

So, you accept, but you're starting to lose direction and you're not sure whether the card you pulled is leading you closer or further from that castle with the caramel moat and gum-drop battlements.

Turns out everyone's got their opinions about where you're headed, but damned if you can tell which team they're playing for.

So, you move 3 spaces, but in which direction is up for debate.

When the baby is born a few months later, you realize all that "hard work" wasn't semantics. You realize that this so-called "real world" is a lot realer than anyone let on.

So, one night you grab your key, sneak in after hours and grab the few personal effects you can throw in the back seat and you kiss that dream goodbye. Take two steps in either direction. At this point, it really doesn't matter. You're just floating around the middle of the board anyway.

It's time though. Now's the time to figure out which way is forward and which path leads to the Molasses Swamp.

Now, it's time to get that degree you punked out of a few years back. So, you call up Sallie Mae again and get your shit in order. 18 months and the cash will be rolling in. This time, for sure. Take 10 steps forward. Fuck the Rainbow Bridge. Just sprint ahead because this time you're definitely headed in the right direction. Right?

You crack open the books and Mom's grinning ear-to-ear. Her little boy is finally on the right track again.

A real job follows and that Candy Castle is so close you can damn near taste the licorice holding up the graham cracker draw bridge. It's not a perfect job. The boss is a real ball-buster and you're putting a few more miles on your 10-year old car than you'd probably like, but hey, you're a daddy now and that's what a real man does. Right?

Right. And you can tell because everyone's grinning ear-to-ear now. Mom, Dad, sis, Uncle Terry. Uncle Terry, he tells you how proud he is. How you had some bad luck, but you stepped up and you're moving in the right direction and even though you never were all that close to the guy, it's got you grinning too.

Every card you turn over, every turn you take, you're just getting closer and closer and nothing's in your way now. You passed that sticky swamp ages ago.

We should remember, you've got a partner in this game. Turns out there are some discrepencies in the game-plan though. Conflicting strategies, if you will. Turns out maybe you and your partner started down different paths a few ten, twenty turns back, but you didn't notice cause you were just looking straight ahead.

In fact, you were so focused on taking the right path, you forgot about all the other players who shoved you in the right direction when the game was just getting started. You haven't seen them in months. Some, years.

Pretty soon, though, pretty soon you find another player who's path is crossing yours. And you're not sure which direction she's headed, but you know you'd like to follow for awhile. The path you're on is nice and all, but it's starting to get stale like last year's Halloween candy, sitting in the back of cupboard underneath the sink.

So, your next few turns have you walking hand-in-hand with a new partner and for the first time in a long time, just playing the game is more fun than the destination.

Here's the part where all those toothy grins start flipping upside down. From their side of the board, you're taking steps back with every turn. From where they're sitting, you've lost direction.

It's not long before paths cross again and your old partner, the one you forgot about, she shows up and all hell breaks loose. Here's the part where someone gets pissed and upends the whole board. Cards scatter. Little, colored plastic boys and girls are airborne.

When the dust clears and the game resumes, you've got your compass back. Right? I mean, you can see the castle on the horizon and it's never looked closer. The only problem is, you look around and none of the other little plastic boys and girls are anywhere to be found.

All the partners you had along the way, well, they've all found their own paths. They're flipping card after card and you can't tell for sure if they're ahead or behind, but you're starting to feel like maybe your compass isn't pointing north. Like maybe in all the chaos, while the board was upside down, maybe one of those gumdrops started sticking up the works.

So, now you're alone in Candy Cane Cemetary or a Peanut Brittle Tundra or a Marzipan Desert. Wherever you are, you're gonna have to figure this one out on your own.

You start flipping cards again. The game must go on, after all. Now, all you know, is that calling it quits isn't an option.

Along the way, some of those other partners from before the board got flipped, they start showing up here and there. Thing is, their strategies are all in place. They've all got new partners. You'd like to tag along a bit, see if they can't lead you the right way. See if maybe you can't sneak a little peek at their compass.

Someone, somewhere grabs the rules. They're printed in ten languages, but you translate any of them and they all say the same thing in big, bold letters. NO CHEATING, ASSHOLE!

So, now you're alone. You can follow the others a little bit, but from a safe distance. They catch you tagging along and it won't be long before the board gets flipped, but good and this time, you might end up with worse than a gummed-up compass.

Here's where we get back to the right way and the wrong way. While you're following from a safe distance, a new strategy starts forming in your mind. Maybe, you think, maybe you've never really been on the right path anyway.

Maybe the Rainbow Bridge is just a trick of light.

Maybe the Molasses Swamp, for all its stickiness, maybe it's still kinda sweet.

Maybe the Candy Castle is just a big, colorful mirage. It's that glimmering patch of highway that just keeps moving away at 55 miles per hour. The harder you hit the gas, the faster it sprints ahead. Always out of reach. And you wonder why you're trying to get to it anyway. After all, it's just a glimmering patch of highway. Just because you can't grab it doesn't mean it's worth grabbing.

So, here's your new strategy. Your new scheme. Your new gameplan. Here's where you realize that your gummed-up compass might as well be a mirage too. Here's where you realize that peeking at someone else's map isn't going to take you to your destination. It'll just take you to theirs. And well, you don't belong there anyhow.

Now it's your turn to flip the board. It's your turn to rip up the rule book and start playing the game your way. Now Uncle Terry and Mom and sis, now they're grins can be rightside up or upside down for all it matters.

Here's where you decide that maybe the wrong path and the right path aren't mutually exclusive. Here's where you decide that Queen Frosting can go fuck herself for all it matters.

At least now you know which way the path is leading. Only now, you couldn't care less. Because either way, it's all leading somewhere. The real trick of the game is, even if you do get a good close-up look at that big Candy Castle, everyone's gonna end up in the Candy Cane Cemetary eventually.

Someone says, "You forgot your last turn."

You say, "I'll let you know when I've taken my last turn."