Okay, Mandy. You win fair and square. But I hope you realize that I’m not going to stand for this. And your mother doesn’t need to know, either. Because then she’ll tell her parents and her sisters, and unless you want the family Christmas dinner to become loud and unhappy, I suggest you keep your mouth shut. Hey you, look at me, not the TV, okay?
Before you dare get suspicious that maybe I let you win, I will have you know that a loss at Connect 4 is way too humiliating for me to even attempt feigning incompetence. And trust me, the defeat only worsens with age. By my age, you’re expected to know how to count to four. Your age, though, is a different story.
God, this is just unfathomably awful. First off, I’ve been counting to four much longer than you have. I am exponentially superior in the art of four-counting. Hey, you, get away from that SpongeBob doll; I’m talking to you.
Second, you didn’t just manage to connect four, you managed to connect five, which is just a slap in the face. Why couldn’t you only connect four in honor of the game’s title, like a civilized person? That’s a whole pillar of salt being forced into the festering, bloody pool of my exposed entrails.
I’m sorry, that image is probably too explicit for someone your age. Oh God, please don’t cry. Are you getting upset? No, of course not, because you’re nodding off. Yoo-hoo, wake up.
Alright, I’ll admit it: it was impossible for me to bring my A-game today because taking care of you is so exhausting. You know, as in nurturing you and providing you sustenance? It’s tiring. I can barely keep my eyes open, just like you right now. Not to mention taking you to school and cleaning up after you; my responsibilities distracted me so much that I couldn’t focus properly. You understand, right? Of course you do. Don’t drool on yourself.Why do you refuse to pay attention? Were you even paying attention during the game? You know what, I bet you weren’t. I was the one who discovered my crippling defeat; you said nothing. I suspect your little victory was an utter fluke. You didn’t even shout ‘Connect 4′ at the end like you’re supposed to. Or ‘Connect 5,’ I guess, which, God that hurts to say.
I can’t believe it. It’s sickening how you’ve besmirched me with your mere child’s play, and you’re not going to get away with it. Just you wait, Mandy. Just you wait.
You know what? I let you win. So there. You know what else? Go to your room, that’s what. And no more Connect 4 in this house! From now on we only play Trouble, Sorry, and games entirely based on chance. And be sure to come back down the stairs again when your mother comes home; the last thing I need is for her to suspect anything.
