Once there was a Monopoly game. The pieces moved around the board, buying and selling, growing richer or poorer.
Hat had just landed on free parking and in that moment of relief, he began to meditate on the game he now played. He had always felt that the game was unfair. Happiness seemed to depend on a mixture of luck and ruthlessness. Yet, he felt deep down it shouldn't be that way. Wouldn't it be nice if all squares were of equal value and instead of competing, we helped each other to get land, house, etc. It certainly wasn't that way now.
Ship had just landed on Oxford St. Hat was glad it wasn't him. A bright red hotel had just appeared there. He pondered further about the Designer of the game, if there ever was one. Yet, how did it get here if there weren't a Designer? Car said it just happened, but things just don't happen. Anyway, Hat felt there was a Designer, but why couldn't the Designer be seen? It's probably hard to expect a plastic hat to see someone as great as the Designer. Can't even understand him let alone see him. Maybe the Designer doesn't like the way the game's played now and he's simply moved away.
Hat moved from fee parking and landed on Chance and went to Jail without passing Go. The immorality of the whole thing worried him. He didn't really want to play the game this way at all. Wouldn't it be lovely to get out of this mess, know the Designer and play the game with a little more consideration and justice.
It seemed strange to Hat that the Designer hadn't done something to fix things up. He was obviously very powerful to create such a game. He must be very caring to allow the pieces to play the game the way they wanted to. Hat was no robot. The Designer must also be very moral. Even Hat knew the difference between right and wrong. So why hadn't the Designer acted?
Ship joined Hat in jail and reminded him of Cross, that piece which started to move around the board a long time ago. All he bought was the Electric Light Co. and the Water Works. Everyone knew he would never win that way. He landed on Mayfair and that was that. Although, Thimble had always said that it was strange how the light kept shining and the water kept running when Cross was nothing more than a memory. And there was all that stuff he said about the New Game, the Perfect Game; a new board for old players.
For Hat and pieces like him, the game would go on until the earthquake. What's the earthquake? That's when the Designer decides it's time to finish the game, fold up the board, and say, "Game's over boys."