Boardwalk
This girl beat me at monopoly yesterday. Funny game, monopoly. Driving around in a plated car or counting the steps of your thimble to the whims of a couple of dice just so you can invest your painted fortune in color coded properties. Gaining each cardboard deed in order to obtain the ultimate high: a monopoly. Three cards and a doorway to victory.
So this girl and I set out to tackle this small game of life. I, being the gentleman I always am, allowed her the opportunity to roll first. Instantly I was behind this ambitious female, and striving to make my journey as successful only landed me in jail three consecutive times. Behind, less money, less property, and less power I trudged on. Never once did she shank the chance to steal what little I had, and laugh at the shortcomings I had all too well acquired. As the man I took these ravishes on my pride without show, and in hiding I knew I could not let her know. For when girls know, they are merciful in order to spare those things, which are precious to them. Those things called emotions. This fact, this fact indeed was her weakness, and it was this fact alone I knew could help me win. But I knew that I could not let her touch my emotions. Men care nothing about emotions. Winning, yes winning is what we care for. And if the seed was planted in her mind that suffering was occurring then she would loosen her grip on the game, she would alter the course of this life and I would win. It would be better for me to have my soul ravaged and beaten than to win this game at her mercy.
By this time the clever woman had derived a way to spin the dice. She could plant them anywhere, and she used this uncanny ability to dodge my every humble attempt to survive. She lived on boardwalk and parked for free while raking in my unstable income.
I continued to use strategy while she played the girl. Knowing myself to be the wiser, I devised a plan. Cunning and brilliant, yet simple and meager, it boiled for challenge. Willingly she accepted and attempted to thwart me, but alas! I had the first monopoly and this was my strength. Orange, tempting, delicious, and yet somewhat sour. St James’s place, this is where I placed my stock, with St. James and his brothers. I poured my sweat into these small rectangle spots. House after house I built my empire and when my grand pyramids had been constructed, she had nothing to do except beg. $700, $950, the prices rose with her mortgages and she single handedly funded the growth of my kingdom. The more I earned the better life I had and the worse she lived.
This is where a girl is cunning. This is the very instant that a lady knows where to apply her skills, where to show that she is indeed a woman. And the skill of a woman is unmatched by any, even her very prominent adversary, man. After the struggle, the battle, the war, I was the champion, the king, and she knew how to destroy me. This girl simply did the one thing that can defeat a man: she stopped caring. With apathetic eyes she slid the dice on the board as her mouth turned more and more down. She played the sad, innocent child who’d been swindled, who’d been cheated and had lost heart. She did the one thing I had struggled to prevent: she played my emotions. She ripped them out of my soul and cried on them and I felt bad. I felt evil when I was now winning against the very same girl that had shown me no mercy in ending my life earlier.
She kept her head low and her voice quiet. Every dollar I earned became tear-stained and every move played guilt on my consciousness. St. James’s place became a castle of shame; my monuments something to hide, and my money became pure hatred. Entertaining the thought of winning, I knew she had already won.
When her eyes left the game, I gave her all my money, and some property. The reason: to even things a bit. She took no time in gaining her stature again. Houses rested on her property before her hand reached for the dice, and I awaited the outcome of my fateful decision. She controlled my stops and she controlled what I had left. I had no money, and hotels and houses were sacrificed to pay her fines. Before long I became the poor beggar, the vagabond on boardwalk, and the pauper scrounging for my 200 dollars every go around. She was vicious with glee as she stole what I had made. And as a woman, she always seemed nice and kind; hiding the ugly ambition she built with. Then came the time of my retirement. Taking off a house, then two, then all of them, and then the mortgage of my existence and I had nothing.
This is where monopoly expresses the true feelings that play in the world: A woman’s joy and a man’s sadness. For my struggle, my work, my blood, and my existence had been poured into this game, this pseudo reality, which I claimed as a universe in which I knew I could rule. I could choose my destiny, I could make my name great, I would be known, and I would have the life I desired. Yet, a woman, a woman is a man’s downfall because she is happy to play. She will play the game while a man lives the game. For her winning is trivial because she enjoys the experience, without fear of losing, without pride, and without care she just plays to play. A man’s life is weighed in the balance of success, while her life is not weighed, but admired. This sad realization is the very reason why I lost, because I cared.
(
geocities.com/timwylie)