Write four lines of prose about: mutiny.
While at work this evening I discovered that the Friday night pickleball session had been cancelled in favour of a party to celebrate the end of a season of kids hockey (I'd guess in the range of six or seven year olds?). And that the players had been given no notice of this change.
I was already aware that the relationship between the players and the community centre was fairly prickly, to be kind. This... this did not help things.
Thankfully nobody took it out on me too badly, but it still wasn't much fun waiting for the next wave of them to arrive to discover they had made the trip for nothing.
That they would reach a breaking point was inevitable. There had been too many disappointments, upsets, broken promises, and not nearly enough acts of reconciliation. We all knew this day would come.
We just never expected the seniors to storm the community centre and then refuse to ever leave.