Bowling Is Fun When You Refine The Rules
A friend of mine who made a lot of money in the market and in an electronics business he had, invited me over once in a while just to hang out. I always enjoyed this, because he had quite a pad, with a basement that was nothing but a total game room. He had everything you could think of, from four bowling lanes, to pool tables and dart boards. And A full bar.
When I was in school, my dad was in construction, so that was the way I went as well. I was not as well off as my friend, but I was happy with where I was. The reason for this get together, was to compete in our own private bowling tournament. It was two out of three games, winner getting twenty bucks and the honorary title of champion at that particular alley.
In not time, the power switches were flipped, the bowling shoes were put on, and we had picked out our favorite ball. We flipped a coin for first turn, and I began the tournament. When my second ball was about three quarters of the way down the lane, I notices it made a slight skip. I screamed foul, excused myself, and headed outside to the trunk of my car.
I reappeared a few moments later with my dyson vacuum dc17, plugged it, and ran it all over my bowling lane. My friend laughed at my antics. He always got a big kick out of me. I explained how the dust from his laziness and the lanes not getting cleaned had caused my balls to miss their target. He was very amused but still confident in his successful outcome.
After another couple of bad frames, I excused myself again. Back to the car I went, this time for something all competitors must have, a good luck charm. When I re-entered the room, my friend fell out on the floor laughing. I had on my black helmet that I bought for riding my motorcycle. I had won some races with that bike, and considered this helmet to be a good luck charm because of it.
Two more frames went by, and still my game was lacking. He was pulling ahead substantially. I notices when I released my ball, the grip of my shoes was not good, and I was sliding too much. The trunk of my car was calling me once again. This time I emerged onto the scene in my brown boots that I used for deer hunting. My friend thought I was a sight, with the boots and the helmet, and snapped a quick picture to capture the moment.
Anyway, he ended up only barely beating me in the first game. Then I pounded him over the next two. We shook hands and he paid up immediately. He pronounced me the new reigning champ as far as his alley was concerned. I did point out that if we had been in a regular alley downtown I could never have gotten away with it. But he did not care, he said it also would not have been near as much fun. And he was right.
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