Chance

The dice were rolled and he theatrically tapped his metal car on the board as he advanced, landing on the Community Chest between his hotels.
"Tax error in my favour!" he laughed. "£200!"
The card was put at the bottom of the pack and he helped himself to the money from the bank. It was the fifth time he'd had that card during the game and I was sure he had taken more than £200 on at least two of the occasions.
I rolled the dice. Shit, it was Mayfair. He only had two houses on it, but it was still going to be costly. I handed him £600 which he made a huge show of checking before adding it to his pile of cash.
He picked up the dice and hurled them over the board. 5. That would take him to Chance.
He tapped the car around the board and picked a card.
"I hope it's fucking street repairs, you little shit," I told him.
My eight-year-old son burst into tears.