Covid Lockdown ( Day 8: The Monopoly Game 2: Return Of The Monopoly Man )
I arrive into the sitting room a defeated man. The monopoly board still on the table reminds me of the tongue lashing my wife gave me the day before. I enter the kitchen in search of coffee. Frank the cat is already sitting at the table reading the paper. I find it strange that he’s up so early. He must have a busy day ahead of him.
“Anything interesting in the paper?”
He doesn’t answer. He just sits there, sipping his coffee and reading the funny pages.
“How about we give that game of Monopoly another go?”
He turns and looks at me. I have clearly piqued his interest. He puts down the paper and brings his coffee into the living room. Now I just need to convince my wife that I’m not a crazy person and get her to play. I head into the sitting room and she's already there, sitting at the table waiting to play. Either she’s reading my mind or the opposite. I’m reading hers. What? No, that doesn't make any sense.
I take a seat at the table. Frank and her stare at me, waiting for me to take my turn. Somethings not right. They’re up to something. I just know it.
“I decide to play it cool.”
“What?” says my wife.
“Wait. Did I say that out loud? Am I saying this out loud now?”
“Yes”, she says.
“Oh. Ahhh.........”, I say confidently.
“Just roll the dice”, she says.
The game is afoot. I roll, Frank rolls, my wife rolls. Hours pass and we play away in silence. I’m having the game of my life. It’s only a matter of time before one of them lands on my overpriced hotel on Mayfair and victory will surely be mine. It’s my wifes go. She’s three spaces away from my hotel. She rolls a three. One, two, three, Mayfair. Your mine now wifey.
“How much do I owe you?” she asks.
I check the card. I can barely hide my excitement.
“800 pounds and I believe that’s you out of the game.”
“No, I’m not paying”, she says.
“Let’s not start all this again.” I say. “It’s part of the game. Just pay it. You’ve lost. Just accept it.”
“You know very well I would never pay 800 pounds to stay in a hotel. And certainly not one run by you.”
She scans the board and sees a hotel on Whitechapel.
“Who owns that?”
Franks puts up his paw and shows her the card.
“Twenty-five pounds a night. Why that’s very reasonable. I’ll stay there instead.”
She hands the money to Frank who then gives me the middle finger. I can feel the tears welling up inside but I’m not going cry. Not this time.
“Oh look, he’s going to cry”, says my wife. “Are you going to cry little girl?”
“I’m not a little girl. I’m a big girl. I mean, a big boy.”
I flip the board as is traditional in Monopoly and run into the bedroom crying like a little girl. I can hear them laughing and high fiving outside. They have broken me. This was their plan all along. They knew my one weakness was my rigid insistence on playing board games by the rules. How could they?
If that’s how they are going to play it, then it’s time to play dirty. I take out my phone and scroll through the contacts until I find the name I’m looking for. Franks mortal enemy, “Mister Snuggles.”
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