Them's Fightin' Words

On Saturday morning I drank six cups of coffee as I sat writing the first chapter of the book that’s gonna make me a famous for something other than writing the SlickTiger Guide To Klapping Gym, Boet.

I got the entire chapter out, not quite the way I’d planned it but close enough, and afterward this weird feeling of satisfied detachment washed over me that I wasn’t expecting.

I was happy with what I’d written but I’d climbed so far into the world of my story that, as dramatic as it sounds, coming back to reality was difficult. It was in this detached state of mind that I decided it would be a good idea to buy a Monopoly board.

It’s probably been a good fifteen years or longer since I played Monopoly last, but it was fun back when we were kids right? Overcast winter days spent hiding under blankets playing marathon games of Monopoly and sipping hot chocolate, good times right?

So I convinced Graumpot and his lady that instead of J-Rab and I coming over to eat pizza and watch movies, we were going to come over and play Monopoly and it was going to be awesome just like when we were kids, KAPOW!

 

 

So we set everything up and started playing and very quickly two things became apparent: 1) This was hardly the thrill-a-minute game I remembered from my childhood and 2) I was basically the only person who remembered how to play.

Oh, another thing also became apparent – whoever designed the new South African version of Monopoly is very clearly retarded.

I mean how Blouberg Strand, Tygervalley and fucking Mitchell’s Plain can be worth more than Sandton, Randburg and Hyde Park is beyond me.

Also (spoiler alert) Boksburg, Soweto and Hillbrow are worth more that Plett, Knysna and Wilderness.

 

 

It took awhile for us to get things going but before I knew it I’d managed to buy up all the pink and yellow properties which I very quickly started building houses on.

Soon afterward the wheels started coming off. I had random properties that other people needed to start building houses. When asked how much I wanted for said properties, the only child in me (read: greedy little asshole) started rearing his greedy little asshole head.

“One thousand,” I firmly replied.

“What the fuck the property’s only worth 250!”

“One thousand,” I repeated unflinchingly. “If I give you this, you’ll start building houses and that will definitely come back to bite me in the ass.”

“Dude, you’re the only one with houses on the board! If you don’t sell some of those other properties, none of us will be able to fucking play the game! I’ve already got the other two, just sell the last one to me for a decent price and stop being such a douche. Three fifty. C’mon.”

“One thousand,” I said, completely unwilling to negotiate with the terrorist forces that were threatening to usurp my game of Monopoly.

 

 

Not long after that, cash started rolling in thick and fast and I somehow managed to acquire the red properties as well which I also started developing hell for leather.

I’m not sure at which point I realised that I was the only person actually having fun but when that realisation dawned on me things got pretty damn awkies.

“Is anyone actually having fun playing this game?” I eventually blurted out, hoping beyond hope that someone else would say yes.

A resounding silence settled over the room, interrupted only by the distant sound of a lonely cricket grinding his legs together in a desperate attempt to get laid.

“Fuck,” I said. “How about I sell you guys some properties, special discount, nine hundred a pop!”

Once again, the lonely cricket.

“Christ, does anyone actually want to carry on playing?” I asked in exasperation.

“No,” Graum replied. “I mean, there’s no point dude. Even if you do sell us those properties, no one has any money to buy any houses on them cause we keep paying it all to YOU.”

“Huh,” I replied. “I guess that’s that then. Best R300 I ever spent…”

 

 

We packed up the board in awkward silence and then sat and stared at one another for a bit.

Luckily wine was at hand (though obviously J-Rab couldn’t indulge) and so things soon loosened up a little and an hour later Monopoly was just a distant, awkward memory.

I was so unsatisfied by the whole ordeal that I seriously considered trying to take the board back the next day and get a refund on the grounds that I had this false childhood memory that Monopoly is awesome when it’s actually a gigantic pile of shit game that is fun for no one.

The problem is there’s no way to fight back after a certain point in the game and that point comes frighteningly quickly.

If you don’t get a good haul in the initial land-grabbing phase, you’re fucked. And if you do get a good haul, you better be willing to make some deals you’ll probably regret later in the game or you risk going the SlickTiger route and crushing your opponents like ants two hours into the game.

The following day, J-Rab and I were bored and decided to play just the two of us and my God did the tables turn!

 

 

It was merciless. Actually no, I lie, it was merciFUL which made it worse because even though she was sharing her Free Parking jackpots with me and letting me off paying rent in some instances, she was still murdering the fuck out of me and there was absolutely nothing I could do to stop it.

Suddenly childhood memories of overturned Monopoly boards, hurling those little metal pieces at my “friends” and screaming my very first swear words all came sharply into focus as I realised the undeniable truth that Monopoly is for assholes.

So the moral here is the next time one of your buddies decides to have a Monopoly evening to relive the nostalgia of youth, rather kick that fucking douchebag right in the shin as hard as you can and ask him, “Was that fun? No? Well neither the fuck is Monopoly.”

The End.

-ST