In all of eternity, before homo sapiens walked upright, before Hercules battled the Minotaur, and after Rick Santorum pulled out of the 2012 election, it was written that Drunk Monopoly would have a champion. Not just a champion, but a champion of champions. It was written. It was written well. It was also spoken. And passed down through the ages through stories. It wasn’t physically written down, but more of in a figurative way. So it was written.
The rules are simple: There are no rules. Before you can even play, you must drink one full beer. Rudy was made to drink two. Let me also point out that the night prior to this, heavy drinking was had and heavy hangovers were in effect. With a strict 11:00am start time, tempers flared as attempted manipulation occurred to begin the game without certain (Eli) participants in attendance. All that aside, the game began smoothly, with the sweet taste of Natural Light tingling on our lips.
I don’t want to dive into all of the specifics, but imagine Monopoly, the greatest of games, with added drinking rules to cause a bit of chaos and to promote emotional ties to the game. The contenders had decided that they would team up against McCannon, the current leader in the Groomsman Games. This did cause him mental anguish, as it took many additional turns to have anyone trade with him. This led to an advantage for Al and myself, who were able to survive, and grow stronger as a result to the growing tension in the room.
A MONSTEROUS trade went down between McCannon, Cliff, and Rudy, which resulted in all 3 of them having monopolies. This made Al shudder, who actually had nothing to his name aside from a few railroads. I sat pretty, per usual, as I had “gotten luck”, as some might say, and gotten both Park Place and Boardwalk. I was riding high, living in the fast lane, with just 2 properties to my name. But did that matter? Was I nervous? Perhaps, but my hand stayed steady, as man after man fell in awe of the 3-house Boardwalk powerhouse. It was only a matter of time until there were people begging for a 2nd-chance, shotgunning a beer for a measly extra $200. Cliff did this. Al did this. Rudy did this. It was only a short extension of their eminent doom. Both Eli and Cliff landed on Boardwalk when it had a hotel. This meant that they both had to go buy a case of beer, and shotgun the first beer of that case. Eli took this in stride, even as the groom. Did Cliff? No. Cliff weasled his way out, exclaiming that we didn’t need more beer, and that he would get it later. 5 months later, he happens to be in another country, and still has not provided the beer. Thanks Cliff for stepping up your game and impressing us. Technically, he should have forfeited, but Cliff, per usual, does not abide by the common man’s rules, and plays only by rules that benefit him.
So it was written that I, in the game that I chose, in the event that was chosen, would bear witness to such a victory that all others would stumble away in a half-drunken stupor, weeping tears of alcoholic defeat. Who got 2nd? Who got 6th? Do I remember? No. Do I care? Definitely not. It was a victory that Hammurabi wrote a code about, that King John signed a carta about.
Finally, what did matter is that I proceeded, in a moderately hung-over and drunk state, to beat Rudy in nearly every single physical activity in our Physical Challenge, and the throw a football farther than McCannon. While drunk.
- Bart – 10 points
- Rudy – 7 points
- Clifford – 5 points
- Elijah – 3 points
- Al – 2 points
- McCannon – 1 point
1. McCannon – 48 points
T-2. Al – 34 points
T-2. Rudy – 34 points
4. Bart – 29 points
5. Clifford – 27 points
6. Elijah – 24 points
Testimonial from the Winner – Bart – Do you really want to hear more from me?
Testimonial from the Loser – McCannon – Don’t get used to my name here.
I wish I could say “well done, everybody. Well played and well deserved.” But I can’t. Due to time constraints and a lack of foresight, we scheduled games in which players can very directly influence each other late in the competition. Well, my lead in the overall standings turned the normally welcoming and charming avenues of fake Atlantic City into a Boulevard of Broken Dreams (awful song, I’m not linking to it). I was a pariah on the board; fostering a trade with anyone was akin to sorting out the Gaza Strip. After what seemed like hours of posturing and shouted arguments, I finally got a three-way trade to go through in which I was clearly getting the short of the stick, but would at least have a monopoly (and, with some luck, a chance). Of course, the next roll of the dice landed me on Boardwalk with 4 cozy houses placed on it. While we were all sitting around holding our dicks, NOT making trades because folks were worried about the overall standings, Bart had already gotten up to 4 houses on Boardwalk. So that was that. I think I could cover like half of what I owed him.
And yeah, I’m still bitter about it.