"All the difference in the world!" cried Raymond.
"When you release the pigs for the good of the whole," said Cecil, "it's a noble act, a kind and generous sacrifice for the benefit of the entire community, without a single thought of personal benefit."
"Whereas," said Tom, "releasing the pigs from an evil power card is the act of a soulless, cruel, despicable human being."
"But I mean, is the actual pig attack any different?"
"Not a whit," said Douglas.
"Absolutely identical," said Tom.
"I'm betting that Ida has her a couple of Release-the-Pigs cards," said Raymond.
"How many beans are you betting?" asked Tom.
"Five beans says she does."
"Oh, yeah?" said Tom. "Well, ten beans says she does."
"That's what I said," said Raymond.
"No, you said five beans," said Tom.
"Roll the dice, Ida," said Grandpa, "or we'll never get started."
"The fate of the world hangs in the balance," said the quiet guy at the other end of the table -- Rainie couldn't remember his name. He looked very sad, even when he laughed.
"Because you are first," said Douglas, "and because you have never played before, you may use the lobster dice to begin."
The lobster dice were just like the other dice -- there were about a dozen scattered around the table -- except that they had a red lobster printed on the face that should have had the one-spot.
"The lobster dice have special significance," said Douglas. "And if you should be so fortunate as to have a lobster turn up on your roll, it changes your move. For instance, if you roll the three dice and get two fives and a lobster, the total isn't eleven, it's ten-lobster."
"How many do I move for the lobster?"
"One," said Douglas.
"Per lobster," added Tom.
"So that's eleven," said Rainie.
Douglas and Tom both made a show of looking stricken. "An unbeliever," said Douglas. "I never would have thought it of you."
Tom addressed the others. "If she can't tell the difference between eleven and ten-lobster, then what if she rolls, like, four-lobster- lobster?"
They all shook their head and made mournful noises.
"I worry about you, Ida," said Douglas. "You seem to have an unhealthy grip on reality."
"Nay," said Cecil, "reality hath an unhealthy grip on her."
"Maybe I'm not worthy to use the lobster dice," said Rainie.
"Ah," said Douglas. "That's all right then."
"What is?"
"As long as you think you might be unworthy, then you are worthy."
"Thinking I'm unworthy makes me worthy?"
"Here are the sacred lobster dice," said Douglas. "You found the perfect last line for the song. You served us our beans and brought us our drinks. No one is worthier than you."
He spoke with such simplicity and sincerity that, even though she knew he was joking, she couldn't help but be touched. "I'm honored," she said, and meant it. She took the dice and rolled.
Two of the dice showed lobsters. The other die showed an ace. Some of the men gasped.
"One-lobster-lobster," murmured Cecil.
"The first roll of the game."
"Surely good karma will triumph tonight."
"Tell me," said Cecil, "are you perchance a visitor from another realm, temporarily dwelling among us mortals in disguise?"
"No," she said, laughing.
"Have you not been sent by the Baby of Love," Cecil insisted, "to bring the blessing of healing to a world of woe?"
Rainie reached out her hand toward Cecil. "Flesh and blood, see?"
He touched her hand, cradled it gently in his, as if it were a porcelain rose. "Ah," he said, "she is real. I know it, for I have touched her."
"She's not a real person," said Grandpa. "She's a ghost. Can't you tell? We're being haunted here tonight. Ida Johnson is just a figment of her own imagination."
The others chuckled, and Rainie laughed. But as she took her hand back from Cecil, she felt strangely shy. And when she looked at Grandpa, she found him gazing at her very steadily.
"I'm not a ghost," she said softly.
"Yes she is," said Grandpa to the others. "She can fool you boys, but not these old eyes. I know the difference."
"One-lobster-lobster," said Douglas. "Let's get this game moving!"
The game got moving. It took only a few minutes for Rainie to get into the spirit of it. The game was about life and death, but what happened with the dice was almost trivial compared to what they all did to each other with the power cards. The game had hardly begun when the blond guy at the other end of the table -- Jack? -- played a card on her that said,
"THE GRASS IS ALWAYS GREENER ..."