It had to happen. It was another day at the Kremlin building the workers' paradise. Another day of mayhem, murder, massacre, deceit, deception, duplicity, executions and show trials. You have no idea how much paperwork is involved! And don't get me started with those Cheka guys. Although, you gotta be careful with them. Sometimes one's undying idealism isn't enough. You never know who is going to betray you to Lenin.
Anyways, after a roll on the Political Track, the die skittered off the table. D’oh!!! In the excitement of the moment, I failed to see where exactly it went. A thorough scan of the kitchen floor turned up nothing. The die's trajectory as it flew of the table suggested it ended up under the refrigerator. With some effort (I had a hernia a few years back), I got the fridge moved. Where are those Cheka guys when you really need 'em? Whatever. Regardless, an inspection of the area under the fridge turned up nothing. Hmm, Alan warned about this.
I managed to control my rising panic. As a grognard going back 35 years, I had plenty of dice in the house. However, truth be told, it wasn't the same. A regular die seemed clunky and out of place. The requirement of constant die rolling didn't feel right with the regular die. I missed the sight and sound of the tiny red die rolling chaotically across the table. No matter. As a loyal Bolshevik, I soldiered on. But, this proved to be the twist of fate; it was all downhill from there. Boy, was the Tsar pissed when he retook his throne.
I tried playing again without the Victory Point Games issued red die. My substitute dice were never up to the task. The game never felt right without my tiny Commie red die. I thought about ordering up one from Alan, but the idea seemed faintly ridiculous. Calculating the postage for such a tiny object seemed truly ridiculous. I feared being the butt of jokes for years to come at the VPG office.
Fortunately, fate intervened, and I was able to escape with my dignity. A chance visit to a local game store buying a birthday present with my young daughter had a container chuck full of tiny little dice displayed as an impulse sale item. With delight, I noted it included my sorely missed tiny red Commie die. Without a moment's hesitation, I bought the package without regard to the hefty mark-up. I didn't care. Once again, I had everything I needed to be a wild-eyed Bolshevik. Subsequent experience bore this out. With the requisite tiny red die, life returned to normal at the Kremlin. Once again, I was comfortably directing the Revolution. Massacre and mayhem and all that were back on track. Hey, I even won a couple of games.
