Bowling Is Fun When You Refine The Rules

I have a friend who has done very well for himself since we graduated from school. Now and then he invites me over to his beautiful home. We were always competitive and loved games. He took a lot of his money and turned his basement into one of the best game rooms in the city. Only it was his own private room. We decided on one particular evening, to put a little wager on a bowling tournament. He had installed, among all the other games, a small four lane alley for him and his friends.

When I was in school, my dad was in construction, so that was the way I went as well. I was not as well off as my friend, but I was happy with where I was. The reason for this get together, was to compete in our own private bowling tournament. It was two out of three games, winner getting twenty bucks and the honorary title of champion at that particular alley.

He powered up the lanes and we chose our balls, and even put on the typical bowling shoes. It was just like going to an actual bowling alley. About the third frame, I rolled the ball at the pins, and noticed it took just a very slight jump to one side. It was hardly noticeable, but yet I saw it. I knew what the deal was. I excused myself, and went to my car.

In just a couple of minutes, I came in carrying my dyson vacuum dc17 which I plugged in and went to work with on the lanes. I made several derogatory remarks about the dust and dirt my friend had allowed to gather on his lanes, and he laughed until he had tears in his eyes. I always could crack him up. But he still stood behind his belief that he would emerge victorious.

After another couple of bad frames, I excused myself again. Back to the car I went, this time for something all competitors must have, a good luck charm. When I re-entered the room, my friend fell out on the floor laughing. I had on my black helmet that I bought for riding my motorcycle. I had won some races with that bike, and considered this helmet to be a good luck charm because of it.

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.