Bodopoly pt 3

Simon however, has downloaded a Monopoly app onto his phone. “Ho I’ll h’show deb. Who deeds deb adyway?” So as Bickle shouts after him, he responds smugly, “Ho, h’dot  h’likely! I buch prefer playig wid byself out here od de h’stairs!” Much hilarity and disgust from the others, “Ho dat souds about right, eh boys?” “Mein Gott, zer sheer flagrancy of zer mann! Haff he keine shame?” “Blbplplblp! Told you! Disgusting pervert! Ought to be birched!” Simon overhears all this and responds, “Do, do, dot playig wid byself! I bead I’b h’playing h’modopobly! Od by bobile! Ad if we’re talkig h’about perverts, den I, ad I hate to h’breach de codfidedtiality of de dewsagents code, but h’your dew issue of “Greasy Geezers” h’arrived h’yesterday Bister Butterball, ad as for you Ziggy, H’I rebebber dat h’extedsive collectiod h’of frutterly disgustig h’ibages dat you keep in h’your h’office!” “Ach der lieiber Gott youdummkopf, dat is zer inkblot tests!” “Ho well it looked like h’pordography to be!” Freud rolls whatever is left of his eyes. “Teufel! Vot a case study made you vould haf!” Bickle ushers Simon back into the flat, “Cobe along dow, all chubs here, frimportadt job for you, dicely dicely, ad so forth.” As they enter the room they are greeted by the sight of Buckle, socks on his hands and a damp, slimy paper tricorn hat perched on his head, gambolling around merrily. “Ho look Biggle! Look Sigog! I’b a gisgustig perverg!” “Stop dat Buckle! Stop dat at odce! Dat’s dot a dice gabe!” But Buckle is caught up in his new frolic, “Perverg! Perverg!” He yodels, dancing on the spot and waving his  besocked hands in Bikle’s face, “If you’re gisgustig ad you do it clab your hads! Clab clab!” “Ho god, stop it Buckle, dat’s bodstrous!” Ignoring him, Buckle carries on with his dance, which now consists of an awkward hopping motion, coupled with a leg movement somewhere between a can can and a goose step. He circles the group flapping his hands about like a demented chorus girl, “Clab clab!” until Johnson, tired of waiting for his go lands him one round the back of the head with Bickle’s frying pan. There is a resounding “Clannngg!” and Buckle subsides wordlessly onto the stained great carpet. “Barvellous! Dice work Johdsod!” “Dow ded, let’s get down to dis gabe. I’ll go first, freleved! Ode, two, three, four, five, six, seved, eight, dide, ted, freleved! Cobbudity chest! Dow let’s see, “You are a gagly fuckid freakboy. You have beed burned to death. Your fradvedture ends here. Do dot pass go.” What? Dat’s dot fair!” “Blplplp! Cards don’t lie! You’re out! Sit in corner!” “But, but dat’s rubbish! It’s by flat ad by gabe ad it’s do fud just sittig I’d de corder!” “Blplplp! Hard cheese Bickle! Luck of the game! Into corner with you!” “Ja ja! Der corner for you! Zer rules ist rules!” “Uh huh huh huh, get in the corner Bickle, with your tool!” “Ribbit!” “Mwaeerk!” Simon, seeing his enemy discomfited chimes in, “Ho Dat’s h’right h’Bickle! I am de h’badker rebebber? Ad by decisiod is fidal! Id to de corder wid you!” “Dot likely! I wadt adother go!” “Blbplplblp! Bad loser! Poor show! No sportsman! Eh boys?” Simon snatches up the broom, “Ho h’off you h’go h’Bickle, heeeey? Broob! Broob!” Bickle protests but is powerless to resist the broom and is forced to sit in the corner whilst the others play. He makes the occasional hesitant sortie, but is driven back by a few vigorous strokes of his bristly nemesis. “Cad I at least have sobe cord sdacks ded?” “Blplplp! Certainly not! Corn snacks for monopoly players only! Category for which you do not qualify!” Clancy grabs a handful of cheese curls and stuffs them messily into his beak. “Yum yum! Corn snacks! Most delicious! Your go Toady!” The game continues, Johnson clearly outclasses the others in terms of skill, and some of them, notably Clancy and Simon, are growing irritated by his success. Paul rolls a five and lands on Chance. He picks up a card. “Uh huh huh huh you have had a nasty accident involving a lawnmower, uh huh huh with your tool.” “Uh huh huh huh, bad luck Paul.” “Uh huh huhhuh, there is more writing, “You have haemorrhaged to death on your own lawn. Uh huh huh huh, get into the corner with Gonky there, and take that chortling git of a brother with you.” “Uh huh huh huh, that’s not fair.” “Blplplp! Fair or not, those are rules! Broom!” The pace of the game hots up, Toadman is the next to receive a chance card, he peers at it then throws it down. With an angry ribbit he claps a newspaper fedora onto his head and hops into the corner, leaving only Clancy, Simon and Johnson still in play. The board fairly bristles with Johnson’s Hotels, whereas Simon has nothing much to show and Clancy has a measly house on Old Kent Road. Clancy lands on the Community Chest, and with considerable trepidation picks up a card and reads the message inscribed thereupon. “Blplplp! What’s this? 2nd place in beauty contest! Win £10! Marvellous! Pay up Mr Banker! Hang on, Blplplp! More writing.” Clancy puts on his pince nez and scrutinises the card. “Also, be warned. The cat creature is slowly draining you of your life essence. There is nothing you can do with your puny magics to prevent this. Eventually a point will be reached where he will once again assumeCorporeal form and wreak an awful vengeance upon your enervated person. In the meantime, the thing about the beauty contest was a misprint. There is a dreadful gas explosion on the Old Kent Road and your shit house is destroyed.” There is a loud bang and all that remains of Clancy’s property empire is a scorch mark and a pool of melted green plastic. “Blbplplblp! Do not like this game. Remembered important business appointment. Must fly. Been lovely seeing you. Toodle oo.” So saying Clancy jumps to his feet and rushes to the door. Pulling it open he darts through it, only to find himself walking into the room he has just left. “Blplplp! What’s this? Leaving now!” Turning, he walks back through the door, only to emerge back into Bickle’s living room. “Blbplplblp! Alarmed now! Eldritch sorcery at work!” “Ho h’unlucky h’sir! Looks like you dod’t get out of dis dat h’easily! Your go Johdsod!” Clancy reluctantly sits back down at the monopoly board, with many an uneasy glance over his shoulder. Johnson rolls nine and extends his portfolio by the acquisition of Marylebone Station, meaning he now has the full set. Simon rolls a two and lands on a space which he doesn’t remember having seen before. “Ho h’what is dis dodsedse? Take a hubiliatiod card? Dere’s do such card!” Johnson gestures at a pile of cards which Simon could swear were not there a moment ago. “Hi dod’t like de h’look of h’dis.”  “Your likes undt dislikes haff keine importance dummkopf! Take zer card!” Dubiously Simon takes a humiliation card. “Ho god, h’whats dis? “You have beed caught by de police pleasurig yourself I’d de bushes dear a h’pribary school wid a h’pabphlet about de local bidiature steab railway dat you foud id de park. Go directly to Jail, do dot pass go, do dot h’collect £200. I’d additiod you bust sigd de h’sex h’offenders h’register for de next twenty years. Furious locals will burn down your h’dewsagedt ad follow you aroud id ad agry bob.” H’what? I’b glad dat dis is only a gabe!” From outside they hear the sound of fire engines hurtling past. A newspaper is posted through the letterbox. It falls to the floor with the front-page uppermost. Clearly legible is the headline “Local Newsagent is Disgusting Pervert.” atop a picture of Simon in his shop. A brick smashes through the window and breaks Bickle’s television screen. Through the shattered glass can be heard a hubbub of threatening voices, amongst which the words “Nonce” “Sick” “Beast” and Fucking hang him” can be discerned repeatedly. “Blplplp! Looks as though you’re not leaving either! Blbplplblp my turn!”

 

 

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Published in: on July 7, 2017 at 3:31 pm  Leave a Comment  

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