I’m not breaking it in half and sharing it with Beyonce. But if I do win the cool mil, don’t expect me to give it away. Hey, dude, you could have a pack of orphan baby koala-bear cubs with injured paws selling Girl Scout cookies - the S’mores version. “It’s actually my son playing it,” he adds, trying to curry my sympathy and perhaps get me to donate my game cards to the cause. Well, sorry to break it to you sir, but your efforts are futile since I will be winning. The man behind me in line chimes in to say he too is playing the game. It’s that wry, “Go ahead, knock yourself out” expression when he leaves Wile E.

I’ve seen that look before, on the Road Runner’s lips (bill? beak?). “Oh yes, and as Rich Uncle Milburn Pennybags is my witness, I plan to win!” I say, loudly and convincingly, throwing positive vibes out into the universe. I’m still waiting for those perky people with balloons and a giant check to knock on my door. Then there were the many times my mom and I stuck the appropriate stickers on Publishers Clearing House sweepstakes entry forms and ended up with nothing to show for it but lifetime subscriptions to Architectural Digest and Birds & Blooms. But of course they made tons of U’s, C’s, O’s, L’s and A’s and only a couple of the dadgum N’s.

I don’t even remember what the prize was - probably something I wanted more than money, like a secret-agent spy periscope. It reminds me of one wasted summer in my childhood spent guzzling gallons of 7-Up to collect bottle caps to find the coveted, game-winning N to spell out U-N-C-O-L-A. I did get an “instant winner” ticket for a 12-ounce bag of Fresh Express salad, and another for a doughnut or bagel in the bakery department. People actually do win things, but mostly stuff like modest grocery-shopping sprees and various gift cards. Did I win big bucks then? No, because there are a bazillion of the evil little tickets given out at stores across the country and only a handful of winning ones for big prizes. The store ran this Mephistophelian version of Monopoly last year too. Monopoly, lures innocent grocery shoppers into the addictive collect-and-win game going on at Safeway stores. I’ve spent the last 27.5 minutes carefully tearing apart those little game tickets they give you at checkout, sorting them by their zombie-brain-eating number system (8C95E, 8V26B and so on …) then licking them like stamps to stick on the paper game board (instead of Baltic Avenue and Park Place, it has images of things like Skippy peanut butter and Bounce dryer sheets), but the stickers taste like dryer lint and they don’t stick very well so I’ve Scotch-taped them in place but, having finally just now read the game rules, it seems using tape or glue will VOID YOUR ENTRY!! Omg, omg, I’ll have to start over. Sure enough, the store chain is running that evil, diabolical, tortuous, infernal Monopoly contest again, and I’ve been sucked in, mortgaging my soul for the chance to win $1 million or a $10,000 family vacation or at least a 25-cent coupon for Heinz ketchup. And as I passed through the deli section, I spied with my little eye a banner featuring the Monopoly guy - you know, the cute little cartoon fella with the mustache and top hat whose name has evolved through the years from Rich Uncle to Rich Uncle Pennybags and then to Rich Uncle Milburn Pennybags, although some just call him Mr. I stopped at Safeway today to get olives, drain cleaner and three bars of 72 percent cacao Ghirardelli chocolate.

Safeway monopoly odds