While the combination of starting a new job and getting hit by the worst cold in memory has left me with little time or inclination for any activity that hasn't centred around lying on a couch clutching a box of Kleenex and a mug of tea, I managed to drag myself off the couch and downtown on the weekend for some Christmas shopping. Because I'm not sure how this happened, but Christmas is suddenly a mere two weeks away.
My retail wanderings led me into a local comic book shop in search of a Wonder Woman action figure for a friend. I didn't find the action figure. But the trip wasn't wasted. Because there in the shop, propped up on a side table, was a game. And not just any game. Nightmare Before Christmas Monopoly. I stood there. Mesmerized. Sure, I'm familiar with the countless "-opolies" out there: Horse-opoly, Beer-opoly, Nintendo-opoly, and their ilk. But I had not previously encountered this version.
I love The Nightmare Before Christmas. And the sight of the game reminded me just how much. It beckoned to me. With its colourful board and its character games pieces. I picked it up. Turned it over slowly in my hands. Perhaps an early Christmas present, I reasoned. For myself. And then I remembered . . .
My retail wanderings led me into a local comic book shop in search of a Wonder Woman action figure for a friend. I didn't find the action figure. But the trip wasn't wasted. Because there in the shop, propped up on a side table, was a game. And not just any game. Nightmare Before Christmas Monopoly. I stood there. Mesmerized. Sure, I'm familiar with the countless "-opolies" out there: Horse-opoly, Beer-opoly, Nintendo-opoly, and their ilk. But I had not previously encountered this version.
I love The Nightmare Before Christmas. And the sight of the game reminded me just how much. It beckoned to me. With its colourful board and its character games pieces. I picked it up. Turned it over slowly in my hands. Perhaps an early Christmas present, I reasoned. For myself. And then I remembered . . .
I hate Monopoly. In all its incarnations. I've hated it since childhood. Everyone seemed to own it. Including me, after it was delivered one Christmas by a misguided Santa Claus who was obviously influenced by popularity and advertising. Everyone seemed to love it. Except me. Everyone seemed to always want to play it. Except me.
But play it, I did. Despite my objections. Despite my desperate attempts to direct attention to other and, in my opinion, far more enjoyable board games. Despite my best efforts, I was always voted down. Inevitably, I would succumb to the pressures of playing Monopoly. And I would always lose. Always. Which I'm sure has absolutely nothing to do with my lifelong disdain for the game.
So as I stood there in the comic book shop, game in hand, these conflicting emotions surged through my mind. And I quietly placed the game back on the table and stepped away. Even Jack and Sally and Oogie Boogie couldn't help me overcome a lifetime of negativity. There would be no "Nightmare Before Christmas -opoly" in my home. Never. But maybe I can find a nice Nightmare Before Christmas version of Uno. Or Operation. Or perhaps Scrabble . . .