Displaced

My drycleaner: I don’t really like to gamble.
Me: Yeah, me either. I’d just as soon crumple up dollar bills and toss them off my deck.
My drycleaner: That, plus I’m a sore loser.

I always thought I didn’t like gambling because some noisy machine was stealing my money, but now it’s clear that that whistling, sparkling money sucker was just a distraction, a decoy for the real cause of the frowning knot in my stomach: I hate to lose. Seriously. I hate it. I am super competitive and I am not a graceful loser. I admit it’s not my most attractive feature, but it’s all I can do not to flip over the Sorry board and run screaming out of the room on game night (circa 1983), so why would I think that playing for money with losing as the inevitable end point would be any different? Silly rabbit. Mystery solved.