Miss Scarlet, on the billiard table, with the heavy red silk cord

You may think you know me. You're my friend, my reader, my anonymous internet lurker. You read my words, and I read yours. We laugh, flirt and banter via digitized witticisms. You know my voice, and I know yours.

Still - that doesn't mean you know me.

It is my firm belief that you will never know a person until you sit down and play Clue with them. Clue has always been one of my favorite board games. It challenges your basic reasoning skills while requiring your best poker face. Even though you play with a group, feeding off the information they provide, and the questions they ask. However, at the end of the day - only ONE player can reign victorious. In other words, it's a chance to use a combination of smarts and people skills to completely annihilate your competition. What better way to get to know someone then strategizing to take them down in style as you battle to solve a murder mystery?

Exactly - there is no better way.

Recently, my friend Matthew challenged me to a game of Clue.

"You don't know what you're getting yourself into" I taunted.

"Afraid I'll win?" He taunted back, predatory glint in his eye.

As soon as he said those words, he had me. It takes very little to make my competitive nature flare up. "You're on." I said with a little too much bravado. I was, after all, a little bit afraid. Oh, not of losing - ha, never that - but of not knowing him well enough. I know that he likes to play with sharp objects, and that is moral compass is pointed somewhere far south of reasonable. What I didn't know was what kind of temper he possessed. Let's just say though, that he was a bit menacing when I didn't agree to play right away - using words like "wrath" and "vengeance" should I decide to refuse.

I reviewed my choices:

1. Refuse to play. Make him mad. Come into conflict with sharp objects. I lose.
2. Agree to play. Lose the game. Make him glad. I lose.
3. Agree to play. Win the game. Make him mad. Come into conflict with sharp objects. I still lose.
4. Agree to play. Win the game...subtly. Make him think. Distract him from the sharp objects and actually have a good time. I win.
   

I swallowed a lump in my throat - oh yeah. He had a temper all right.

Ok" I said to myself "The key is - don't let him see you sweat. Keep him guessing. Sure, he might be mad about losing, but as long as I can toss him enough interesting bits of information to it challenging (not demeaning) when I mop the floor with him." I settled comfortably across game board, legs crossed on the floor, waiting for him to choose his piece.

You can tell a lot about what kind of strategies a person will implement be seeing which Clue character they identify with the most.

In a deft motion, he swiped up two pieces - purple and white. I tried not to focus to hard about how quickly he moved, or to compare my own clumsy motions while calculating a plausible escape plan. Failed at not thinking about, so then settled for trying to look calm. He placed the purple down on his side, and handed the white one to me. "Victor Plum" I said, smiling to myself. He would choose the smart, nutty professor. - "I'm not surprised. However," I tossed the white piece back into the box with deceptive carelessness "I am always Ms. Scarlet."

Mathew raised a brow, slightly surprised. "Ladies first" he said, in his ever-calm voice. The hairs on the back of my neck rose in nervousness and anticipation.

He dealt the cards with quick, precise motions. I looked at my hand, feeling my nerves strung tight. In a game of clue between two people, the stakes are always higher than with a group. After all, in a group, you don't know who has what card. With only two, it's a vicious battle to the death with each question that's asked.

"So..." Matthew began as he looked through his cards "Always Ms. Scarlet? Why?"

I smiled as carefully considered my answer. "Why would you think I'd pick Ms. White?" I tried to keep the edge out of my voice, but he wasn't fooled by my too sweet tone.

He eyed me carefully, considering. "Because you're...well...nice." He said the words carefully, as if trying to gage their effect.

"Nice." I repeated. " I hate that word".

He stared at me blankly for a moment, not understanding. "Why?" he asked, after a prolonged pause.

"Nice is a word people use to describe me when they don't know me very well. It's a decision they arrive at based on completely superficial impressions, which they cease to use as soon as any sort of deeper bond is formed. People telling me I'm "nice" just means that haven't put any effort into getting to know me."

I looked up from my cards, rolled the dice, and landed in the conservatory. "Colonel Mustard, in the conservatory, with the candlestick."

I looked up at Matthew to find him staring at me, mouth hanging open. "You hate the word nice?"

I sighed, and felt annoyed. "Yes, I said that already. I hate the word nice almost as much as I hate having to repeat myself."

He looked away from me, and began to play his turn. "You're impatient, " he said softly, "and you hate words that imply a lack of sincerity."

"Hmm. He picked up that from what I said?" I didn't realize I'd said the words aloud until I saw the answering smirk on his face.

"Yes," he told me, "I did. So...why Ms. Scarlet?"

It was my turn again. I knew I had to work fast, a few sneaky moves, then in for the kill. Otherwise, I'd be toast. Which obviously wasn't an option.

Which is why I pulled out a cheap, dirty trick - shameless, shameless distraction.

"Because of what the color red implies about her sex life."

Matthew was suddenly so still, he looked like he'd stopped breathing. He sat still, transfixed. I continued. It was a cheap shot, bringing up sex. I knew he would distracted - he's male. But I never claimed that I was above playing dirty if it helps me to win.

"Ms. White" I said, "is bitter, dowdy and virginal. She's a withered spinster who would be driven to murder by cold and calculating hatred. She would make her victim suffer not only his death, but hers too - that agonizing death of the spirit that she feels inside day after day."

I didn't look up, but I knew he was hooked. My roll took my into the library. "Mr. Green, in the library, with the rope." He flashed me a card with Mr. Green, almost automatically, still waiting. I held my breath in, as if I were about to continue.

"And Ms. Scarlet?" He asked, edgy. I felt like laughing - this was almost too easy. However, I decided to pretend I didn't notice he was riveted to my words, watching my mouth, letting the images I planted in his mind spin off into god knows whatever fantasies.

"Ms. Scarlet" I said slowly, "is the carnal embodiment of passion. She approaches everything she does - up to and including the murder - with a lusty enthusiasm that practically pulses with the force of her nature. She might be beautiful, but she's feral and deadly. You'd be a fool to underestimate her. " I paused. "It's your turn by the way."

He didn't move. I pretended to study my hand as he studied me. Finally, he spoke "Are you trying to tell me that you're incredible lusty, that people underestimate you based on the way you look, or that you're into S & M?"

I laughed out loud at that. I mean, really laughed. It's always amusing to be asked a straightforward question, especially when I have no intention of giving a straight forward answer.

"I may have meant one of those things. I may have meant all of them. You can draw your own conclusions from what I told you. I'm sure you will anyways." I rolled the dice.

"You're infuriating." He said, sounding amused.

I moved my piece towards its destination.

He continued: "You're a nice person, but you hate to be called nice because you think it's insincere. You like to take your time telling stories, but you get impatient if things aren't going your way. You know that people underestimate you (because of this niceness that you find annoying), and you use that fact to manipulate the flow or their thoughts whichever way you want - which, by the way, is totally distracting. You love Scarlet, because her blatant sexuality contradicts what people think about you."

He paused, looking at me.

"You're infuriating." He repeated, but he was still smiling. "Is there anything else I should know?"

"Yes," I said, smiling back. "I'm about win. Oh - and my favorite color is green."

"Wait, wait, wait." He looked at his cards. "You win? How?"

"Because I know what's in the envelope, obviously. To tell you the truth, I've known from the beginning." I flipped the envelope around in my hands, not opening it. "This was fun though, I didn't want it to end too quickly."

"What's your prediction then?" He asked, his tone laced with mockery.

I smiled at his smirk. "Victor Plum, in the Bedroom, with the Knife" I said, slipping the cards out of the envelope, and flipping them on the board for them to see. This was the moment I'd been waiting for - would he be angry? Or had I sufficiently distracted him from being competitive?

"How?" He finally exploded, "How did you know? We were talking so much that I've barely had a chance to make three coherent moves!" He stared at Ms. Scarlet, remembering what I'd said before.

This time, I did laugh, but only quietly. "Matthew" I said softly "Like I said, I knew from the start. When I'm playing with you, what else could the answer be?"

He scowled when I said that, which made me giggle a lot.

"Tell you what" I said. "Next time, we'll invite Kathy, MC, Courtney, Ben, and Meg to play with us. That way, the answer won't be so obvious."

He continued to glower at me, but he kept sneaking glances at little Ms. Scarlet. I smiled to myself. Perhaps, I did not need to worry about death at those agile hands of his. Just perhaps, he would use them for something else...

P.S. I hate to break the mood, but this scenario is totally fictional. It's a response to a tag Matthew did of me over the holidays. Is anything I said about myself real? Well...you'll just have to guess. To learn more about Matthew and why I said he likes to play with sharp things, check out his site.