Topping the ball

vintage bowling sign

It was a smell that I secretly loved. A wicked mélange of lane oil, lemon-scented wood polish and sweaty feet.

Walking into the lanes, a beautiful cacophony of bells and buzzers assaulted my senses. The league players filled the middle lanes, leaving only the fringe alleys for us amateurs.

The reverberations from the resin balls rumbling down the parquet floors made my ears ring. It reminded me of how I felt when I first fell in love. That deep-down, heart-thumping sensation where you feel it all the way to your toes.

We picked out the most obnoxious balls we could find. I got a neon orange 12-pounder and he found a blood-red 15-pound rocket. Our laughter and silly antics drew attention from the more serious players. Attempts to perfect our goofy releases, and gymnastic dismount flourishes after strikes, prompted agitated whispers.

My realistic warble after I made my first turkey, brought the league president over to our station to reprimand our behavior. Our oinking later when we made ham bones, had us both crying laughing.

As it became obvious we were both going to bowl 300, the other lanes emptied out and the keglers filled in behind our benches.

The only draw back to our plan was that we couldn’t perform this exhibition in the same place twice. People tend to remember two jokers bowling perfect games, but it was worth it. No matter how ridiculous we were, we couldn’t throw gutter balls even when we tried.

We could have wished for material riches, for long life or magical powers. Instead, we asked to be unbeatable crankers. The Genies are still shaking their heads.

The Trifecta challenge this week is: Turkey [ noun \ˈtər-kē\] 3: three successive strikes in bowling

  1. I love this! Spending as much time as I do in bowling alleys, it really resonated with me… especially the league bowlers who take themselves much too seriously!

    Like

    Reply

  2. That is such a funny premise, Tara, to use your wish – not for evil, but for perfect bowling scores. And then the trouble it, like eternal life, might cause. Love the way you start it off, too. I can almost smell those feet!

    Like

    Reply

  3. I suppose the draw of fascinated onlookers sticking around to buy more drinks allowed the manager to look the other way.
    This is a fun piece! Thank you for linking up!

    Like

    Reply

  4. I like the idea of the gymnastic flourishes. This is great fun to read.

    Like

    Reply

  5. This is FANTASTIC. What a wonderful picture, and a wonderful use of a wish!

    Like

    Reply

    1. I can’t bowl with any precision. I stopped trying once my kids were too old for gutter bumpers and I didn’t have an excuse to use them.

      Like

      Reply

    1. Thanks! Glad I could make you smile.

      Like

      Reply

  6. This is funny! I had to look up hambone (I think the bowling folks were hungry when they coined the terms.) It is an interesting wish, though.

    Like

    Reply

    1. I had to look up all the bowling references. I didn’t know ‘turkey’ was a term until this prompt.

      Like

      Reply

  7. I was ALWAYS really serious about my bowling, easily irritated by shenanigans anywhere in my field of view. Until I’d had enough beer, that is, at which point I became WAAAAY more tolerant.

    Like

    Reply

    1. Bowling and beer, the natural combination.

      Like

      Reply

      1. At least most of the bowling alleys are now smoke-free. Great piece, Tara. Thanks for sharing.

        Like

        Reply

Join the discussion...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: