Read Online Surface Tension by Brent Runyon - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Brent Runyon
Ads: Link
earlier.”
Mr. Richardson looks at me like he's about to strangle someone. He's mad at the minister. He goes into his garage and gets a shovel. He says, “Where?”
I point and say, “Right there.”
Mr. Richardson goes over and scoops up the dog shit with the shovel, brings it over to the minister's property, and drops it right in the middle of his lawn while he's still talking on the phone.
The minister stops talking and stares at Mr. Richardson as he turns and walks back toward us. That'll teach him.
It's raining, so Mom and Dad and I get out the old Monopoly board and set it up on the kitchen table. It's totally weird how dark it gets around here when it's raining. It's even darker than it is at night, except for not really. It's just dark.
I get the race car, Dad takes the top hat, and Mom takes the dog. She says, “It looks like Panda, my dog I had when I was a little girl.”
Dad is so funny. He shoots her a look over his reading glasses and says, “Panda is a great name for a dog, dear.” But he's being sarcastic, so it's funny.
I say, “Yeah, why did you name it Panda? Did it have trouble mating?”
Dad says, “What did you feed it—bamboo?”
We laugh at Mom, but it's okay, because she doesn't mind when we pick on her. She likes it better than when we pick on each other anyway. She just smiles and deals out the five-hundreds, the hundreds, and all the rest into three neat little stacks in front of her.
Dad does the real estate and Mom is the banker. I don't do anything except straighten up the Community Chest and Chance cards and put a five-hundred-dollar bill in the middle of the board. Mom eyes it but doesn't say anything. She's a stickler for the real rules, so she doesn't like that we put themoney in the middle, but it makes it more fun. It's like winning the lottery if you land on Free Parking.
Before we roll to see who goes first, Mom makes the same speech she always does: “Now, I want you to promise me something, and I'm very serious about this.”
“What?” We both know what she's going to say, but we also know that she's going to say it no matter what we do.
“I want you to promise me that when I beat you, you're not going to cry. Can you promise me that?”
“Yeah, whatever, Mom.” She always makes that speech, and she always has, ever since I can remember. It used to make me mad when I was little. But now I just want to beat her.
We roll the dice to see who goes first. I get a two. I go last. I always have the worst luck. Dad lands on Reading Railroad. Mom lands on Oriental. I land on the stupid Chance space, and the card says to go back three spaces, so that puts me on the Income Tax space, so I already have to pay a hundred and fifty dollars before I even get to do anything.
Dad rolls an eight and buys States Avenue. He's smiling. His teeth are so crooked and yellow. I've never really noticed that before. It's gross.
Mom rolls a four and is just visiting Jail. I don't like the way she moves her dog. She taps it on every square like it's a kangaroo. A dog named Panda that hops like a kangaroo. Why doesn't she just jump ahead four spaces? It's so easy to do. I mean, there are ten squares on each side.
I roll an eight and land on stupid Electric Company, which is the biggest waste of time in the whole game, because no one ever lands on it, and then even if they do, I don't getvery much money for it. I've got a feeling this game isn't going to go very well.
Mom has both Boardwalk and Park Place. Dad has all four railroads and most of the red and yellow properties, and all I have are a few random properties and not much else. It sucks. It's just like the worst feeling in the world, losing at Monopoly. Seriously, it's just like being a bum or something. Being totally broke with no money and no chance of ever getting any money. And plus, whoever is winning is just so happy with themselves. It's sickening. Totally sickening. It's like some rich asshole telling a homeless guy
Mr. Richardson looks at me like he's about to strangle someone. He's mad at the minister. He goes into his garage and gets a shovel. He says, “Where?”
I point and say, “Right there.”
Mr. Richardson goes over and scoops up the dog shit with the shovel, brings it over to the minister's property, and drops it right in the middle of his lawn while he's still talking on the phone.
The minister stops talking and stares at Mr. Richardson as he turns and walks back toward us. That'll teach him.
It's raining, so Mom and Dad and I get out the old Monopoly board and set it up on the kitchen table. It's totally weird how dark it gets around here when it's raining. It's even darker than it is at night, except for not really. It's just dark.
I get the race car, Dad takes the top hat, and Mom takes the dog. She says, “It looks like Panda, my dog I had when I was a little girl.”
Dad is so funny. He shoots her a look over his reading glasses and says, “Panda is a great name for a dog, dear.” But he's being sarcastic, so it's funny.
I say, “Yeah, why did you name it Panda? Did it have trouble mating?”
Dad says, “What did you feed it—bamboo?”
We laugh at Mom, but it's okay, because she doesn't mind when we pick on her. She likes it better than when we pick on each other anyway. She just smiles and deals out the five-hundreds, the hundreds, and all the rest into three neat little stacks in front of her.
Dad does the real estate and Mom is the banker. I don't do anything except straighten up the Community Chest and Chance cards and put a five-hundred-dollar bill in the middle of the board. Mom eyes it but doesn't say anything. She's a stickler for the real rules, so she doesn't like that we put themoney in the middle, but it makes it more fun. It's like winning the lottery if you land on Free Parking.
Before we roll to see who goes first, Mom makes the same speech she always does: “Now, I want you to promise me something, and I'm very serious about this.”
“What?” We both know what she's going to say, but we also know that she's going to say it no matter what we do.
“I want you to promise me that when I beat you, you're not going to cry. Can you promise me that?”
“Yeah, whatever, Mom.” She always makes that speech, and she always has, ever since I can remember. It used to make me mad when I was little. But now I just want to beat her.
We roll the dice to see who goes first. I get a two. I go last. I always have the worst luck. Dad lands on Reading Railroad. Mom lands on Oriental. I land on the stupid Chance space, and the card says to go back three spaces, so that puts me on the Income Tax space, so I already have to pay a hundred and fifty dollars before I even get to do anything.
Dad rolls an eight and buys States Avenue. He's smiling. His teeth are so crooked and yellow. I've never really noticed that before. It's gross.
Mom rolls a four and is just visiting Jail. I don't like the way she moves her dog. She taps it on every square like it's a kangaroo. A dog named Panda that hops like a kangaroo. Why doesn't she just jump ahead four spaces? It's so easy to do. I mean, there are ten squares on each side.
I roll an eight and land on stupid Electric Company, which is the biggest waste of time in the whole game, because no one ever lands on it, and then even if they do, I don't getvery much money for it. I've got a feeling this game isn't going to go very well.
Mom has both Boardwalk and Park Place. Dad has all four railroads and most of the red and yellow properties, and all I have are a few random properties and not much else. It sucks. It's just like the worst feeling in the world, losing at Monopoly. Seriously, it's just like being a bum or something. Being totally broke with no money and no chance of ever getting any money. And plus, whoever is winning is just so happy with themselves. It's sickening. Totally sickening. It's like some rich asshole telling a homeless guy
Similar Books
