Bodopoly pt1


“Bordig Bikle! Are we baking a cake?” Bickle, pale and exasperated sticks his head out an old style telephone box and answers “Ho god, for de frumpteenth tibe, do! Ode, it’s dot bordig, its three o clock id de afterdood, and two why de fuck would you think we were bakig a cake? I’ve beed stuck od hold about by bedefits for de last 20 bidutes which has dearly used up all by coco cola and beads bodey whilst you’ve been doig fuck dows what. I don’t dow why you didn’t stay id de flat.” “Don’t dow why who didn’t stay id de flat?” “You Buckle! I don’t dow why you didn’t stay id de flat, its cold and biserable out here.” “Ho I don’t dow, Bickle, it’s dot dat bad, besides I’ve got by warb coat od and look I’ve beed baking a cake!” “H’what?” “Yes cobe ad see, it’s a bagic cake!” Half holding onto the receiver, Bickle steps out as far as he can and looks around, only to feel his pixie boot has stepped into a pile of something. An unpleasant smell hits his nostrils and he can see he’s stood in a kind of old pizza box stuffed with various rubbish with a dog turd placed in the middle. “By cake! You’ve ruid it! Dow de bagic has got od your boot!” “Fucks sake Buckle, how bady tibes have I told you dot to play wid dog shit!” “Ho I don’t dow, is it a quiz?” “Do it’s figure of speech!” “A figure of speech? What do you bead?” Suddenly Bickle can hear a voice in the phone “Hag od Buckle! Yes yes, by dabe? Bickle, yes dats right, do I’b dot workig, I’ve got problebs to work. Oh hag od let be see if…” BEEP BEEP BEEP… Bickle fumbles to find coin in time and the line goes dead. “Fuck bastards!” he shouts “Did de bagic work Bickle?” enquires Buckle, opening the door slightly. “Do it didn’t!” “Ho it sbells id de box!” “Do dats the de dogshit all over by boot!” “Ho you really bust be bore careful Bickle, I’ve told you to keep away frob dog poo before!” Nearly shaking with tension, he manages to reply “Do do, that was be, I’ve told YOU about playing with dog shit!” “Ho, dat bust be how you got it od your boot!” “Do you bade a cake rebember?!” “Do do I already asked you about dat Bickle, and you said it’s three id de bordig why would we be bakig a cake.” “Dot three id de bordig, oh what’s de use, cobe od Buckle, let’s go back to de flat, Pete and Paul ad Sibod are playig bodopoly wid us later rebember!” “Ho barvellous, cad I be de dog!”

Bikle remembers the last time that they played monopoly and he, in an unthinking moment gave Buckle permission to “be the dog.” The fact that he was now reduced to eating his beans from the can, and indeed drinking his cola from an empty bean tin, such was the devastation which he had, socks streaming proudly from his ears, wrought upon Bikle’s already meagre store of crockery and glassware. “Do you bay dot! Neither cad you be de racig car. You cad be de irod or de boot.” “Oh dod’t be so bead, cad I be de boat?” Visions of floods appear in his mind. Certaidly dot, besides we have lost de boat, ad dat toad bad ate all de hotels.” “Ho I liked de toad bad! He bade be a hat! Is he cobig too?” “Ho god hi hope dot! Do do, just Pete ad Paul ad Sibod” “Will dey bake be a hat?” “Yes yes quite frossibly, dow cobe along, I deed to tidy de house ad get de board set up.” Buckle beams, “Ho you dod’t deed to worry about dat, Hi tidied de flat dis bordig, after I had by breakfast. ” Bikle stops midway through trying to scrape dog waste from his shoe. “You did fuckig what?” Buckle beams, “I tidied up de flat for a surprise! I did a frexcelledt job Bikle, Bi cad’t wait for you to see it!” “Ho by God, dod’t do dis to be! You’re fuckig jokig right? Ho god! By thigs!” He sets off at a run, cutting, as always when moving rapidly, an even more comedic figure than ordinarily, bony knees pumping up and down, cloak billowing out behind him. Buckle slaps his hands together in glee, jumping up and down on the spot. “Ho dere, he cad’t wait to see it freither! Ho, I THOUGHT he’d be pleased!” Panting and sweaty, Bickle pounds up to the stairs to the flat, and frantically fumbles in his pockets for the keys. Jamming them into the lock, he pushes open the door and runs into the flat.

Looking wildly around him, he staggers back in dismay. The living room / kitchenette area is completely empty, save for a monopoly box sat square in the middle of the floor. Panicking, he flings open the doors to the bedroom and bathroom. They too are empty and bare. Hoping against hope he pulls open cupboard doors, checks the wardrobe. Nothing. He clasps his hands to his head, “BUCKLE!” “Ho, there you are Bikle, how do you like dat ded? Tidy isd’t it?” “Buckle you bludderig bloody babood of a a bastard! Where’s all by thigs? By clothes? By combuter? By bagdificedt televisiod?” “But you’re always sayig dat dey are rubbish Bikle, I didn’t thigk dat you liked deb. So I tidied deb all up.” He beams. “Ho, I thought you’d be pleased!” Bikle clutches at his forehead and reels back against the wall where the cooker used to stand. “You got rid of all our thigs? I’ll bloody burder you for dis!” “But you really did’t like dem buch at all Bikle, you always called deb daughty dabes!” “Dat’s because dey were old ad a bit crap, but dey were all I had! Ad at least I could watch videos of de televisiod, ad play gabes od de cobputer, ad boil water od de cooker, ad wear de clothes, ad, ad, ad well bloody everythig! Dow what an I goig to do?”

Buckle shook his head sadly. “Poor confused Bikle. Do you wadt a toffee Bikle? I’b goig to have ode. Dere extra sticky!” “I’ll give you a bloody toffee id a bidute you ditwit!” “Dad’s veddy kide on you Biggle, bud I’b god a tobbee ballreagy. Do you wag to see?” “Ho for fuck’s sake!” He grabs Buckle by the lapels of his anorak and shakes him. “All by sduff! By thigs! Gaaah! What about I goig to do?” Buckle smiles pityingly. “Silly Bikle! Buy sobe dew thigs ob course.” “Give be bloody stregth! How about I goig to do dat wid do bodey you bindboggligly bassive bubhead?” “But Biggle, you’b god lods ob bodey, dere I’d de box!” So saying, he gently frees himself from the other’s grasp and, opening the monopoly box proffers Bikle a handful of brightly coloured scraps of paper. “Dere you go Bikle. Dow you cag buy lods of dice gew thigs!” “Dat’s dot real bodey Buckle! Jesus bloody wept you frimbecile! Dat’s dot real!” “Ho dow it bust be, rebebber de oder day whed you dragk de juice from de labp ad west all wobbly? You were asking ladies to show you dere dickers, ad frofferig deb dis bodey.” “Dat was’dt be, dat was de oder Bickle, Frorigidal Bikle! Ho fuck by life! I biss all de oder dibedsiods!” Buckle chews his toffee thoughtfully. “So you did lige your thigs Bikle? Dat’s fuddy den.” “Fuddy? Fuddy? Oh by saidted audt!  How dat other Bickle dever burdered you I’ll dever dow!” “Why dod’t you get deb bag ded? Frob dowdstairs?” “H’what? Dowdstairs? What do you bead?” “I put deb I’d de big storage boxes dowdstairs, you dow, de idea wid do lids ag de liggle wheels od deb.” “De wheels bids! Ho god! Ad it’s Thursday! De bid bed Cobe od Thursday!” So saying he bolts from the room and clatters down the stairs, followed by Buckle, who has not followed the last part of the exchange, but is ever ready to join in a new game with his accustomed gusto. “Wheeee! I’b ruddig od de stairs!” Bursting out of the front door, Bikle is just in time to see the dustbin lorry trundling away down the road. “By thigs! Cobe back!” So saying, he sets off in hot pursuit, shaking his fists and yelling obscenities. A couple ofwell to do ladies, waiting at the zebra crossing observe him with disgust, a tweed clad figure standing nearby shakes his head and eyes the desperate figure with studied disdain. “Blplplp! Madman trying to steal rubbish from bin lorry! Really! How low some people will sink eh? Blplplp! Probably a tramp of some kind!”

Hot on his heels shouting and clapping comes Buckle pelting as fast as he can. “Ho I’b goig to wid de race!” he cries triumphantly as he passes Bickle. As it happens the bin lorry does stop, as there are traffic lights ahead. With a vague sense of hope Bickle hurtles himself towards the bin lorry with every last ounce of strength. The lorry is still there when he reaches the side. Red and gasping he staggers to the window and reaches up to bang on the glass. The burley bin man looks quizzically down at him. Bickle bangs urgently again, this time the man winds the window down. “By thigs, dere id de bid!” “You what mate?” “Dere’s beed a bistake, sobeode put by thigs id de bid and dow dere id de back of de truck, by Abiga, by tv, by clothes” The bin man looks suddenly cognizant “Computer? Tv? That was you?” “Yes dat was be!” “Right mate I can’t stop now but your things are back there, we can’t take stuff like that, there’s a fine notice on the top of the bin, needs paying in 28 days.” “But what about by oder thigs!” “Have to ask at the deppo mate, don’t fancy your chances.” The lights change to orange and the lorry pulls away. Buckle is currently nowhere to be seen which is a relief to Bickle so, red and sweaty from the exertion, he slopes back towards the flat to see what remains of the his stuff and where the bin men have left it. He does not have to look far. Clearly in his panic he didn’t spot the fact the bin men have just dumped it outside the flat block. There’s the TV, smells a bit but hopefully ok. The computer? Ah half concealed by a bag of some plastic packets that previously contained food, but otherwise looks all right. A bag of kitchen things looks promising. A bag of old dvds and videos looks more hopeful still. No clothes by the looks of it but maybe Buckle didn’t throw those out? He looks too at ominous fine notice on the top of his bind. That will have to wait. He’s knackered and feels awful but he has to get this stuff back upstairs. So starting with the TV he begins to move the things. Clambering to the top of the stairs he fumbles around opening the door. He manages to stagger two steps in when he hears a loud “Boo!” which startles him so much he drops the television and screams “H’what de fuck!” There laughing and grinning is of course Buckle “Ho you dropped de telly Bickle!” “Frouch! And od by toes as well! Fucks sake Buckle dow de telly is ruid!” “Baybe you shouldn’t have beed carryig it aroud, if you’d left it alode dis wouldn’t have happed!” Slowly learning the futility of answering this gibberish. Bickle picks up the TV, noting that there is only slightly peripheral damage and speculating that it might be ok and takes it through to the living room “Dow Buckle, I’b goig to check de TV later, leave it alode, don’t try ad fix it or fradythig, just leave it alode, I’b off to get bore of by stuff.” So back he traipses down the stairs, fetches a bag or a box until, after a few trips, all that was not actually taken by the bin men is back in the flat, all be it in a slightly smellier state. Buckle comes back into the main room. “Cobe od dow Bickle you  deed to bove all dis rubbish, Pete and Paul and Sibod will be here sood and you’ve left your bess everywhere. I’ve tidied dis lot once today already!” Sure enough the middle of the floor is just a pile of various stuff, taking up much of the space.  “Ho you leave it alode Buckle, I’ll deal with dat id a bidute, led be just have sit dowd” “But dere’s dowhere to play de bodopoly.” “Fucks sake, give be just a bidute!” “Ho it’s really do trouble Bickle, I cad help tidy dis up!” “Do Buckle! Leave it a fuckig lode! Just led be sit a bidute!” But then there is a knock at the door. Bickle turns even paler. “Ho dat will be deb!” says Buckle excitedly, launching himself towards the door before tripping over the pile of stuff in the middle of the floor “Bohhhhh!” and then crashing into the seated Bickle “Ow fuck! Ged off be you fridiot!” “Get off who?” he still manages from the entanglement. “Be! Get off be you fucking bunbelievable dincompoop!” and he forcefully pushes him off before getting up and stomping over towards the door.

Elsewhere Morris and Johnson are watching the scene, Morris looks amused but thoughtful. “I am not sure that this one is going to last as long, he looks about done in already and its only been five minutes. We’ll see how the monopoly game goes but if he doesn’t rally we may have to rethink. Speaking of which do you fancy going? One of you should go, well one of you is going, ah and here is loves a good boardgame Johnson right on cue.” “Mwaaaerk!” intones lagbg Johnson enthusiastically. “Get round to shitbeans flat, win the monopoly game and come back!” So off Johnson goes out of Morris’ door only to appear on the screen in Bickle’s flat. “H’what is dis? I thought it was just Pete and Paul and Sibod!” Sure enough there are a few more players than were anticipated. Clancy is there rifling through the counters. Pete and Paul are there, with there tools, gangly Simon too, a toad man skulks around folding an old newspaper into a hat, Sigmund Freud is leafing through the instructions. After Johnson’s entrance Simon pipes up “Ho h’cobe od Bickle, we’re all waitig to start! Don’t be a piker about it!”


Published in: Uncategorized on June 14, 2017 at 11:31 am  Leave a Comment