Two monocled men sat in a bar after having quite a few pints of ale.
Monocle Man 1 turned to his friend and said, “Monocle Man Number 2, my good chap, I would like to play a game!”
Monocle Man 2, having been addressed as “good chap” only seconds earlier was in a playful mood so he replied, “Well Monocle Man Number 1, my good chap, tell me the details of a game you would like to play and I will gladly join you in this romp!”
The two Monocled Men laughed heartily and with great mirth at their mutual agreeability. They snapped their fingers for the bartender to bring them another round of ales. The bartender found their behavior foul and indicative of a type of upper class snobbery and pretension that had been increasingly allowed to run wild ever since the invention of the monocle. However, the bartender worked for tips and was slyly overcharging these monocled men, so he endured their boorish behavior.
With fresh pints of ale in hand Monocle Man 2 brought up the next most logical question, “What game shall we play Monocle Man Number 1?”
Monocle Man 1 was surprisingly not prepared for this question at all. He futzed and fumed and thought and theorized. “Well Monocle Man 2, I am afraid I have not thought that far down the road yet, but I will get started right now!”
Monocle Man 2 was quite pleased at this and as a show of gratitude said, “Well, here’s $200 dollars just for crossing the starting line my good chap!”
“Oh how splendid! A good game indeed! Let’s cheers our ales!”
At this absurd and garish display of wealth many of the other patrons bristled at the Monocled Men. However, the patrons also could not help but become morbidly curious about the game these Monocled Men were having.
“I love to buy property!” said Monocle Man 1, apropos of nothing.
“I love to buy utilities!” said Monocle Man 2, apropos of Monocle Man 1 but transitively, still apropos of nothing.
“I like railroads!” shouted a Non-Monocled, Non-Affiliated Man.
The bar became deathly still. The Monocled Men instantly let their feelings about this intruder be known.
“You go to jail! You go directly to jail you scoundrel! Out of our sights!” they shouted in unison.
“Constable! Is there a constable in the building! Constable we have a plebeian interfering with our game!”
A constable did happen to be in the bar that night, so he came over and asked, “What’s the problem here… good chaps?” He said the phrase “good chaps” very timidly because he was worried that the Monocled Men would get mad at him for trying to sound higher class than he actually was.
“Arrest this man! He is a no good Shoe and he will never amount to a Thimble of Iron!” screamed Monocled Man 1.
“Throw him in a Wheelbarrow and sick the Scottie on him!”
“Shoot him with a Cannon!”
As the Constable dragged him out, the Non-Monocled Man exclaimed, “I’ve left my Chest! That Chest is an heirloom from my days at sea! It contains my parrot, who is alive and is called Paul…”
But the policeman threw the Non-Monocled Man out of the tavern before he could finish his sentence.
“This Chest belongs to the Community now!” said Monocle Man 2, raising his glass to the whole bar and expecting them to be jubilant at his declaration, but the other patrons just continued drinking and stared at Monocled Man Number 2 like he was crazy.
“I do like railroads though,” said Monocle Man 1.
Monocle Man 2 concurred and added, “Let’s have railroads in the game, most definitely.”
At this point the Monocled Men were quite drunk so they stumbled out of the bar leaving the patrons dumbfounded at what had just happened. One patron ran over to try and sip some of the ale that had been left behind, but was admonished by the bartender who reminded the patron that that was how one contracted Mono.
“Paulie want a cracker! Squak! Paulie want a cracker! Squak, squak!” said the parrot from the Community Chest.
“Did they even play a game?” Non-Monocled Man Number 3 said to another remaining Non-Monocled Man.
The bartender turned to Non-Monocled Man Number 3 and remarked, “I will sell this game.”
“But, what game?” Non-Monocled Man Number 3 reiterated. “They never played a game, they didn’t even really describe a game… What will you sell Milton? You will go Bankrupt!”
The bartender took a moment and considered this thought thoughtfully, “Well my kind Banker chum, I hear your concern but I suppose that’s a Chance that I must take!”
The Higgs Weldon is an online humor magazine with funny articles, cartoons, and one liners. It was founded in the Los Angeles stand-up comedy community, but takes submissions from everybody. Please read and enjoy our jokes!