Thursday November 20th, 2014

The exercise:

Write about: the racket.

Survived my second evening of badminton. My play is definitely improving, but I was also definitely the worst player there. I'm aware that this is to be expected, but my competitive side is still irked by my place at the bottom of the ladder.

After spending a good chunk of the afternoon preparing for it, I am not almost ready to go to the market on Saturday with my cards and prints. The main thing I still want to do is a test setup of the table, to see what works and if there are any extra things I'll need to bring.

So... I guess I'll be doing that tomorrow.


The rally began shortly after noon on a clear, crisp day in October. It began as a small group, with perhaps as few as ten men marching together, but it gathered in size and strength as it made its way through the narrow streets of the town.

These things always seem to work that way. Who cares what we're protesting or celebrating or whatevering, just get in on the fun!

No one tried to stop them or even slow their progress. But they were watched closely, every step of the way. The surveillance only increased as they approached the royal palace.

"What on Earth is going on out there?" the king asked from the safety of his warm and welcoming bed.

"It's the badminton players again, Your Highness," his aide replied. "They are making a rather terrible racket with their rackets."

"Oh, is it that time of year again already?"

"Indeed, sire. You can always rely on them to start complaining about the lack of an indoor playing space when fall begins to be swallowed by winter."


Greg said...

Is the market indoors or outdoors? If it's outdoors I'd go with taking a paperweight or six :)
You'll get off the bottom of the league soon enough, though I do remember how competitive you were with the bowling league :) You just need a little more practice, and it sounds like you're getting that on a weekly basis now.
I think your protestors have a point there actually, though I'm surprised that they don't complain just as bitterly about the autumnal winds too! And the King seems... unduly complacent, to my mind!

The racquet
"Solid gold, sir," said the salesman, twisting the racquet. It caught the light and a sickly yellow glow bounced off surfaces around the showroom, finally half-blinding Sidney.
"Well that's bloody useless," he said waving a hand as though to dismiss the racquet. "Too bloody soft. It'll deform the first time I hit someone or something with it."
"Then you're playing the wrong kind of game, sir," said the salesman with the speed of a striking snake. For a moment Sidney remembered Mr Wriggles, the snake that had lived behind the fireplace in the winter when he was a child.
"Squash, damn you," said Sidney. His voice was almost calm and civil.
"Precisely, sir," said the salesman. "When this racquet is for mind games. With this racquet you subtly tell your opponent that you're better than him in so many ways. And then when you put it away and play with something obviously cheaper you're once again saying that he's beneath you. Not worth your time or your money."
"Sounds complicated," said Sidney, worrying at a hangnail. He looked at the salesman suddenly, his eyes narrowing. "So I'll need two racquets from you then?"
"Well yes, sir," said the salesman setting down the solid gold racquet and picking up a racquet so black that it seemed to absorb light and eat shadows that fell on it. "This is carbon fibre laced through with bucky-balls. There's nothing lighter, tougher, or better."
Sidney looked at the price tag, and then at the solid gold racquet's price tag. His face purpled.
"You said the second racquet would be cheaper!"
"I said it should look cheaper," purred the salesman.

Marc said...

Greg - indoors, thankfully. No way I'd have been convinced to do one outside at this time of year :P

That's a... wait. *Behind* the fireplace?

You're a bad person.

Anyway. Your salesman has quite the pitch. I suspect he does very well for himself!