My nephew and his son killed me at Risk the other day. They hunted me down from Western Canada, through South America, across Africa, into Europe, then across Asia and into Australia where they finally ended me.
Twenty minutes. Twenty. Minutes.
Which is, oddly enough, exactly how long I sat in the rocking chair afterwards for a cup of tea and a sulk.
My nephew and his son killed me at Risk the other day. They hunted me down from Western Canada, through South America, across Africa, into Europe, then across Asia and into Australia where they finally ended me.
Twenty minutes. Twenty. Minutes.
Which is, oddly enough, exactly how long I sat in the rocking chair afterwards for a cup of tea and a sulk.