Back at it again around the office water cooler, eh folks? Mondays, am I right? Yeah, I had a pretty low-key weekend myself. Just how I like it. Well, actually, I guess you could say I did one exciting thing: I won the Most Dangerous Game. You’ve never heard of it? That makes sense. No one has ever won The Most Dangerous Game. Except me.

What’s The Most Dangerous Game? I’m happy to explain The Most Dangerous Game, because The Most Dangerous Game is not a winnable game. That’s what makes it so dangerous. The title is a pun on… nevermind, we’ll get there. The point is, a man tried to hunt me and I survived. I won. It was great.

Why are you shouting? No, no, it’s cool. I won the game. I know it’s usually illegal to hunt a human, but the hunter was a rich person.

The law doesn’t apply on an island! Okay, obviously given recent history that doesn’t sound great.

It’s actually impressive that I was the first person to ever survive—I mean win. Of course there were other people, why are you acting like that is the important detail? I won! Out of hundreds of people before me. Okay, who are you calling? I defied the odds. No, I’m not talking to a detective.

Enough about me. What did you do over the weekend, Barb? No, I haven’t considered speaking to a therapist.

I didn’t roll my eyes when you spent 25 minutes talking about your niece’s ballet recital, so I’d appreciate it if you listened to my tips for spear-sharpening without sprinting to Human Resources (much like I sprinted away from General Zaroff).

I’d understand you not being impressed if I was the second person to win The Most Dangerous Game. But I’m not. I’m the first person to win The Most Dangerous Game. I swam around a whole island.

I killed people. Yes, plural. Multiples didn’t seem to scare you when you snatched a second piece of pizza during lunch. But when it’s human beings at the bottom of a stick-pit instead of ham on pineapple, this office loses its mind. Do I hear police sirens?

The executives gave Jeremy a plaque for exceeding very manageable second quarter sales goals, but not a medal or commendation in sight for the man who won The Most Dangerous Game. The next time I’m watching the life drain from the eyes of a reclusive Russian general on the floor of his remote jungle chateau, I’ll make sure to sell a few more printers.

Let’s play The Most Dangerous Game in the office. Obviously if you win, it won’t be as thrilling, since you won’t be the first person to win The Most Dangerous Game. That was me, if you couldn’t hear over the increasingly loud shouting and near-constant threats to have me physically removed from the conference room. Good luck with that—I just survived thirteen hours wedged in the branches of a coconut tree holding a palm frond slingshot between my teeth.

No, I’m not unlocking the door, stop asking. And please tell whoever is idling in the parking lot with a full siren and red and blue lights to quiet down. Whoever it is, they’d never survive—I mean win—The Most Dangerous Game. It’s a siren-free affair.

Honestly, I’m glad I decided to take the rest of the afternoon off. No, not to reckon with a life-altering tortuous psychological ordeal—I have important matters to attend to. I’m going back to my rural hometown to perform my civic duties with a group of very reasonable people in something called The Lottery.