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| Friday, September 21, 2007 |
| Strike |
| CRACK! The ball has slipped from her fingertips behind her to the floor. Her face flushes crimson as she tries to get her traction less shoes to propel her toward the runaway thing. It rolls of its own accord, twelve pounds of whatever bowling balls are made of can move rather quickly if given the chance. Scrambling about, looking like she swallowed a canary, she snatches the thing out from under an other's legs. Barely a glance in their direction, she glowers as she wiggle-shuffles her way back to the lane. Wildly she tosses the ball onto the wood, CRACK! It gutters and rolls past the tall standing pins. Her frustration mounting, shoulders hunched, she hurriedly pinches up another ball. This time she swings it between her legs. The movement wipes her feet off the polished floor and into the air. She lies on her back. Once again, a crimson face. A silent prayer is uttered as an unkown gentleman offers a hand. Sensing her disgrace, he holds the ball for her as she struggles to her feet. Very patiently, he lines the ball up with his nose and eyes, then mock shots it .. to teach her form. She mutters a thanx and accepts the errant ball. Feeling obligated she mirrors his actions. She isn't really sure what he was looking at, and so aims at the first pin in the middle. She swings her arm back and releases at the knee, CRACK! The ball hits the lane.. she is standing bent and bull legged, but does not care. The ball beelines, hitting the foremost pins, they immediately fall like stacked dominoes! All but one, in the right corner, it's teetering, teetering.. she lets out a little yelp, and as though reacting to her emotional emittance, it falls to its side. STRIKE!! She nearly passes out. But, rather she finds herself jumping, and shouting, and grasping the sides of her head. She does not believe it! It seems the world has turned on it's axis a moment and she glances about. Everyone is looking at her. Again with the crimson face, she saunters to her chair, sighs and drinks the last of her beer. Off come the shoes. She squares her shoulders, straightens her shirt and returns them to a baffled attendant that informs her that she could play the game out.. to this she refuses. 'I just wanted to feel what it's like to make a strike.' and she strides out of the building with her head held high. |
posted by katmandusuekookachoo @ 6:19 PM  |
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