Since my goal in life is to be a world champion extreme Candyland player, I decided yesterday to roam my hood and see if I couldn't score some pickup games. After defeating several 5 - 8 year olds and taking their allowance, I was up by $3.50. While I'm counting my winnings, a rather mean looking ten year old approaches me. She scares me a little, but wtf. She's ten. So she says to me, "I'll play you for my allowance beeotch". Really? So I ask her how much she gets. "Fifty bones! Are you skeered?". Fifty dollars? Oh my shit. "I was lucky to get five dollars when I was your age". "Yeah, well my dad deals pot and these are tough economic times. You wanna play or what? Or are you a puss?". Not wanting to be a puss, I count the rest of my money. I have nine dollars. And this little trick is scaring the shit out of me. But I have a rep to protect, so we strike a deal. She throws in a bag of Maui Wowie, and I put my watch on the line. She might be scary, but she's ten, and after all, I'm on the pro-circuit. So I pick up the blue gingerbread man and she slaps me in the face and tells me she is always blue. It's her favorite color. Okay, so now I have a pint size hand print on my face and the urge to bitch-slap a ten year-old. I tell myself take it easy, you can't fight a kid, and take a deep breath. I always liked yellow better anyway. We start playing, and I am well ahead of her. We are about halfway through, and she decides she needs a smoke break. So we stop, and I bum a cigarette off of her. I say bum, she charged me $2. Cigarette taxes she says. When we get back to the game, I notice she is about 15 squares in front of me. I could have sworn I was winning. The next thing I know she is drawing the double square cards like crazy. I'm starting to smell a rat. Then I look to my right and I see it. A dead rat. We keep playing. What she didn't plan on was landing on that last licorice space where she will have to stay until I draw that color. Who's the beotch puss now? I manage to not only catch her pint-size ass, but pass her. She looks pissed and I'm watching her for any sudden moves. I don't want to get slapped again. Suddenly, she reaches into her pocket! By now, I'm thinking gun, but she pulls out a pixie-stick and opens it. I breathe a slow sigh of relief. We get back to the game and she is relesed from the licorice square. But, I have the upper hand here. Just as I hit the next to last square and am waiting for my next turn, she suddenly jumps up and blows pixie-stick dust in my face! OMG! I'm blind! I fall to the ground scratching at my eyes, begging someone to get a water hose. I feel liquid hit my face and start to feel relieved until I realize she is pouring her 40 oz Juicy Juice in my face. Then, little bitch starts laughing hysterically grabs the money, the Maui Wowie, and my watch and walks off. I try to get up, but her little friends start kicking me in the face and ribs. When I finally come to, I realize they have also stolen my clothes. Luckily, the ten year old left her jacket in all of the commotion, so I was able to walk back home without drawing too much attention to myself. I did have one guy stop and ask me "how much?" Thinking I could rebuild my Candy Land losses, I tell him $100. So he says to get in, and I quickly realize his version of Candy Land was more the 50 cent "Candy Shop" version. Before I can get out of the car, he flashes his badge and the next thing I know I'm on my way to county. I got hustled twice in one night! At least I'll get a stale bologna and cheese sandwhich and an old apple out of it at feeding time. Then, I remember. I hate bologna.