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Grip Bowling Ball
Bowling Is Fun When You Refine The Rules
My best friend from school went on to do extremely well for himself. He has a fantastic home out in the country, and he has me over from time to time. In school we always were very competitive, and loved trying to beat each other at games. He loved games so much, that he actually turned his whole basement into one big game room. He had everything, darts, pool, foosball, air hockey, ping pong, a chess table, a four lane bowling alley, and lots of others. It was a great place to hang out.
I myself was just a construction worker who was frequently out of work. But we had been friends since high school, and had remained so in spite of the different roads we had traveled. So on this particular day, we decided we would bet twenty dollars on a bowling tournament. We would bowl three games, and the winner of two, would be owed a twenty from the loser. It was all in the spirit of fun.
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.
Another few frames later, I was beginning to fall farther behind. Then I remembered that I was trying to do this without the one thing all competitors must have, my good luck charm. Again I was strolling to my car, and when I got back, I had on my black helmet that I wore when I rode my motorcycle. Since buying this helmet, I had won five races in a row. He still was not impressed, but had a good laugh.
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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