The exercise:
Write something that takes place at: the bowling alley.
Went bowling with Max and family and friends this afternoon to celebrate his birthday a day early. Also the four of us are going out for dinner tomorrow night in order to celebrate on his actual birthday.
Trying to make things a little extra special this year, because a kid only turns 10 once, you know?
3 comments:
I think it's a really nice thing to do, and I look forward to Max pointing out next year that he only turns 11 once as well ;-) I hope you all had a great time :)
Today's piece probably belongs more in Florida than Canada but I never seem to have created any characters from there so... enjoy?
The bowling alley
Sixticton's Bowling Alley was called Strike Three and the owner had gone to the trouble of building a small back-street to locate the premises on. Most of Sixticton, being a small town where everybody knew everybody, was a spacious, well laid out area (with the exception being the flanks of the recently erupted volcano), so he'd had to put up several buildings on either side to create a dark, dingy alley, but that was where Strike Three was now located.
Inside, the building code, approved by Sammy the Mayor ('woof!'), required that it be brightly lit, airy, and the bowling lanes be properly maintained so the owner had had to chase the American Grunge style that he craved by making the dress code 'leather jackets, greasy jeans, worn boots'. Slightly to everyone's surprise the residents of Sixticton had decided that they liked this and treated it as a fancy dress affair, and that in turn delighted the owner as hen parties turning up in outlandish, dress-code contravening, feathers, veils and lycra added to the atmosphere.
"How much for a burger?" squawked the woman at the food counter. She was part of an out-of-town hen party and had squeezed herself into lycra that was struggling to contain her fuller figure. A certain amount of netting attempted to preserve her decency but was insufficient for the full task, and the delicately placed feathers (which would have been tantalising on a more svelte figure) drooped a little and made the observer wish the entire peacock had been used. "I could buy a boat for that!"
Behind the counter Gerald sighed and then remembered himself and forced a smile. This was his second job, by day he was a arts&crafts teacher at WrongStart. Rising inflation and the fact that Sixticton had (for unknowable reasons) imported signficant quantities of wine-growing supplied from Ukraine for years, had led to him needing a second job. It was also the reason behind the higher prices in all the stores. Without thinking, he tried reason.
"Not here," he said. "Boats cost a lot more than that here."
The woman picked the burger up and threw it at him. "I hope you get cancer and give it to all your family!" she screamed, going red in the face. The flush started to descend her neck and her jowls wobbled furiously. "You're going to hell for charging me that much for this piece of... of... crap!"
Gerald picked the burger up off the floor and resisted the urge to wipe ketchup off his face.
"You have to pay for that," he said. It was policy, but he was sure it wasn't going to calm the situation down. Thinking faster than he'd ever had to with children aged between 3 and 6 he moved the iced soft drink before the demoness in front of him could seize and throw it. "I'm sure you don't want to have to pay for throwing that all over me too," he said.
"Oh really?" The woman's eyes bulged as she glared at him. With nothing in range to grab her eyes darted around madly like a chicken's and then she clutched a handful of sad feathers from her costume and pulled them out and threw them at him. They fluttered to the ground, only a few making it as far as the counter, around her, and he averted his eyes from her unfortunately exposed expansive cleavage.
"Miss," he started, pressing the undercounter button for security, "you need to calm--"
"Miss? How dare you! I'm a mother! I have four children and another one on the way!" She slammed a meaty fist down on the counter and the lycra costume started to rip at the leg, just at the bottom of her thigh, moving upwards. "I shouldn't be getting upset in my condition!"
"Or at your age," agreed Gerald without thinking. The explosion of wrath in front of him culminated in the lycra shrieking as it ripped upwards like an accelerating zip and the costume tore free of the woman, releasing her in all her naked glory in the middle of the bowling alley.
Greg - I think we focused enough on him turning double digits that he shouldn't pull the 11 card next year. I also suspect I'm underestimating him...
I'm not sure 'enjoy' is the word I would choose, but I was certainly entertained!
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