Monopoly Blows

         Mark and Rick settled on the family room couch to do battle once again. As friends and next door neighbours they had been here many times before. The Monopoly game balanced on the coffee table before them. Since Mark acted as this game's host he had appointed himself as the banker. To that end he had sorted all of the colourful paper money and heaped it in orderly piles next to the game's splayed board. Ready to dispense, the tiny plastic hotels and houses awaited nearby. A radio wafted rock music in the background. Why not kill two stones with one stroke, or was that kill two birds with one stone? Silly expression. They planned a nice, friendly afternoon . They could listen to their favourite DJ and pass the time playing their favourite board game, a win, win. Besides, this time free of sisters appealed to them. Neither of them appreciated the constant drama. A Keep Out sign hadn't been necessary. Marks' Mom had delivered a verbal warning on their behalf. Closing the room's door also served as a not-so-subtle barrier.

         Shouting and hooting echoed as the boys commenced their showdown. They saw no need to silence their enthusiasm. To say they were competitive would be an understatement.

         "Hah, I got to Park Place first. Of course, I'll buy it. You can't touch this!"

         "Woohoo, I landed on my first railroad. Watch out! I'll soon have an empire."

         "Water works, yes! We see and hear enough of those, don't we?"

         "Pass Go. Do not collect two-hundred dollars. Go straight to jail. Bummer. Just you stay away from my railroads. They're mine."

         "Not what I wanted. Okay, here's your railroad rent. Too bad you can't put hotels there. You'd be rolling in dough."

         

         "Am I bailed, now? What else could go wrong? I had to ask. Taxes?"

         "The Monopoly bank thanks you for your contribution."

         "Turn up the radio. Your humming is distracting. Thank the Lord for small mercies. You could be trying to sing."

         "Would that kill our mood? You know you love my voice."

         "Hey! Hold up. You gipped me. Are you hoarding the money? Where is it? Give it to me!"

          Mark jumped up waving a fistful of the fake money in Rick's face. He gyrated and sang, "You can't touch this!"

         The two friends swatted at each other and the board spilled to the floor. As they tussled the coffee table overturned and crashed with a loud , sharp thwack.

         Mark's mother hollered from upstairs. "What's going on down there?"

         "Nothing," they chorused. "Just a bit of rough housing."

          They both dropped their hands and listened for any more objections. In the ensuing silence they glared at each other.

         "You owe me a five dollar bill. Pay up."

         The honourary banker snorted and shook his head.

         Rick didn't hesitate, he shoved Mark against the wall. Mark lashed out and caught Rick across one ear. Soon, they were entangled, huffing and puffing. Neither one would let go. Their skirmish escalated to kicking. Cursing, they toppled to the cement floor. Winded by this fall, they scrambled to their feet. They both put their hands up and resorted to fisticuffs, punching and jabbing what ever they could reach.

         "Ow!! That really hurt. Did you just karate chop me?"

         Mark winced and cradled his right hand. "Your hard head just broke my hand."

         The unmistakable sound of heavy footsteps on the basement stairs alerted them to a parent's imminent presence.

         "Don't you dare tell anyone," hissed the injured Mark. "I'll think of something to explain this."

         When the door burst open , he tucked his hands behind his back.

         "Mom, nice to see you. Rick and I were finished anyway ,right Rick? See you tomorrow." (622 words) (His Story prompt 10 AND Musically Challenged Prompt 19)