The Dice Whisperer
Every now and then, I get thinking about involving Dadzilla in some activity. Sometimes I think about asking him to play Yahtzee or a dice game we used to play called Ten Thousand. That is until I remember why I stopped playing games with him in the first place.
For one thing, I used to have to bring a pillow for him to put his arm on because he'd consciously shake his arm and hand which made the whole table shake. It wasn't something like Parkinson's that caused it either. It was more like a combination of anticipation and irritation.
I've mentioned he yells at traffic signs and lights. Well, dice are no exception in the inanimate object department. “I still need a large straight. Goddamn dice. I can't get 'em to do nothin' for me today.” A large straight is the second hardest combination to get, yet he expects to get it every single time. He'd constantly roll the dice a little too hard and one or two would wind up on the floor. “By God, I'll shake the spots off these dice yet!” And he'd rub them together incredibly hard, as if that would teach those demonic dice a lesson.
I could handle the shaking of the table, tossing dice on the floor, or even talking to the dice in a normal tone of voice. What I can't deal with is how he works himself up into a frenzy and the yelling. Ask him nicely to stop yelling, and you get one of or a combination of: flat out denial, an accusation that you do it too, the “stink eye”, or more yelling.