Guttersnipe

Last week a little bug-eyed birdie told me I should be wiping the oil slicks off my ball. And wipe my ball I did. Every time I got my hands on that smooth 16 pounder I gave it a thorough rub-down. Boy, oh boy, playing with a sparkling clean ball sure paid off.

It’s Monday now. Sunday barely showed its face but to hurl forth awfulness and feed a confused dog. My memory had been wiped clean from the activities of Saturday night. I sat in cold and mild discomfort, paying the price for my deeds long after committing them, as anyone over 30 must do. I am still, as the Fat Boys well know, feeling it.

It was a dual birthday celebration for two grown men that did it. Typically I would not think of taking part in such a ridiculous soirée but, since the night was to take place at a pub with a bowling alley inside, I pushed my disgust deep down inside with all its friends and made the time.

What could be worse than two male adults having a birthday party at a semi-fancy upscale casual type bowling alley/pub? Having to purchase gifts for these two friends of mine. So I did what I always do in these situations. I got them each a burden, meant not to dazzle or delight or titillate but merely take up space and invite awkward questions.

There is only one place I need to go to procure such items. From a horse-racing board game made in the 1950s to an erect table penis made of glass, this used bookstore I frequent for actual reading material also has a surprising number of very useless items available to purchase for quite small sums. I made the decision this time to go with some self help books. Do they need the books? No, certainly not. Would they be offended by the books? Quite possibly. Does this get me out of purchasing anything meaningful at prices above $10? It sure as sugar does.

The first one (on the right) was too easy. Seeing this mug poking out of a shelf in the back-most section was more a gift to me than anything my worthless friends would receive. Not only that, the damn thing was signed. This was noted on the price, pushing it to a meaty $7 even. Worth every penny. The favourite section of the recipient was the “good enough” curve demonstrated within.

The other one, on the left, was more spiritual and less “give up on better, just accept your shit life”. It, however, had a few nice bits I hadn’t noticed when purchasing. I’d been more focused on the striking poses on both the front and back covers and totally missed that this proponent of just wanting something real bad then magically getting it was a founder of the Agape spiritual centre and also had a quote on the back from one, “Ram Dass”. There was some debate over whether this was a real book or a gag but I think that kind of humour blindness can only come about through honest belief. It was a firm $8 but also came with an author’s inscription and the previous owner’s notes on self-actualization or some other similar bullshit.

After that the evening dims significantly. But the important part – scrubbing my ball to a high sheen – is something I cannot forget. Not with these results from league night.

Our opposition all had better averages than we, yet could not seem to get their games going enough to put up decent numbers. They did, however, have an almost aggressive insistence on fist bumps and high-fives not just with their own team but ours as well. On misses, too. I think my shoulder got sore just from all the unnecessary congratulations.

I started out with a measly 104. Last on our squad and better than only two on their side but still enough for us to win straight up and with the handicap. This must have been when I had a vivid flashback or hallucination or some sort of waking wet dream. My hand, a rag, and a gigantic ball being wiped to a crisp, clean shine. The night was about to turn.

I led the way with a 137 in game 2. Just to see that pristine orb rocketing down those polished planks almost sent me into a swoon. Oh, dandy, what a sight. We took that one too, teamwise, leaving us only with the pride of a sweep and all 7 points to gain in the third.

I was tipping ‘em pretty good to finish up but my 128 was only enough for second-best across the two teams, well behind the 155 from their top tosser. No matter, though, as we won going away to take all possible points for the match. We were at 7th in the league going into the night and one can only imagine we’ll be moving up even more after that. I’m just not sure if I should buy a fresh wiping sock or stick with the magic of that old ball-scrubber I got out of the lost and found last week. I’m going to trust old faithful and hope we get up another notch next time. Good night and happy rolling.