Wanna play some frooge?

Don't know how to play?

I'll show you.

First, we go out on the sidewalk in front of my house. Then, each of us lights a cheap cigar (nothing over $1.50, please).

When we've each smoked our cigar down to the last half inch, I take my hat (a fine straw Panama made out of paper by Chinese slaves), and I put it upside down on the opposite side of the street.

The object of the game is to pitch your cigar butt (underhand, this ain't the pros, ya know) and try to get the cigar butt into my hat. First guy to get his butt in the hat wins.

You win the first week's match. I have to give you $10, and you are now the winningest frooge player in history. We agree to play again next week. You swear you will repeat.

Next week, we play again, this time in front of an appreciative group of neighborhood children.

You win again. I give you another $10. You are now the winningest frooge player in history, and you have repeated. There is talk of a dynasty. One of the neighborhood kids asks for your autograph, You take him into your basement because that's where you left your pen. You swear you will "three-peat."

Third week. You win again. You have three-peated. I have to give you another $10. You are the winningest frooge player in history, and you have established a sports dynasty.

As you leave the scene of your greatest frooge triumph, your arm around one of the fatherless neighborhood boys, you explain to me that the reason you keep winning is you "refuse to lose."

"It's not the size of the dog in the fight," you tell me as you hand the fatherless boy a frosty wine cooler. "It's the size of the fight in the dog."

A short time later, you are arrested for anally (and forcibly) violating three of the neighborhood boys.

Frooge may be a young sport, but it's a proud sport. You must be punished, and that punishment has to be more than the piddling little 20-year sentence a man gets for raping kids.

After long consideration, I decide to take two of your wins away from you and award them to me. Now, you are no longer the winningest frooge player in the world, you have not repeated, and you have not three-peated. You also have to give me back the $30 you won off me.

Needless to say, I won't play frooge with you again. Well, I'll play with you while you're awaiting trial, and I'll play with you after you get paroled, but I won't play with you when I come see you in jail.

I will, however, take the $30 I got back from you, go to a sports bar and watch the game, any game.

Because, sooner or later, after the grieving, you have to heal and move on with your life.

It's healthy.

To learn more about Marc Munroe Dion and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit www.creators.com.