Two
The evening had not gone well, but it ended worse.
In the game of baseball, the winning team is not allowed an extra inning to run the bases while the losers are forced to watch from the dugout. Bowling, however, allows better players an extra rub-it-in frame. Each Ball Buster drew out his extra frame with a lengthy dose of insults that bordered on soliloquy before throwing each ball.
The three members of Split Happens suffered the trouncing by not caring one little bit about bowling. The insults didn’t faze them. The taunts did not irk them. But, the Ball Busters’ victory skit drove the three losers into hysterics.
This skit had consisted of a choreographed dance step, a chant that contained the chorus, “bu, bust, busted,” and pantomimed spanking. The dialogue was childish, foul and on par with a rap written by any company’s HR group. The victory skit culminated with all three Busters shaking beers and spraying them at the losing team.
John shot beer out his nose, Chris fell back into the couch unable to control his laughter, and Erik joined in with a chuckle once he realized that he should be laughing as well.
Grins turned to sneers and middle fingers as the Ball Busters packed up their shoes, balls, gloves and little wrist things and left the Family Fun & Bowling Center. Chris returned Split Happens’ rented shoes while John and Erik finished their drinks.
“Are you okay to drive, John?” Erik asked.
“What? Of course.”
“Because, if you’re not, I can drive. I’ve only had a couple.”
“Erik, I don’t let my wife drive my car. And I actually like her.”
Chris returned from the front counter. “We’re good to go. John, are you okay to drive?”
“Why does everyone keep asking that?”
“Because you’re drunk.”
“I’m fine. Besides, it’s only a couple of blocks.”
Erik raised a finger. “They say that most accidents happen within a mile of home.”
“They also say, ‘Shut up or you’re walking home.’ Let’s go.”
“I’ve never heard them say that.”
“Move it, Erik.”
The throbbing soundtrack of Laser Bowling faded as the automatic doors closed behind them and they stepped in the parking lot. It had been full when they arrived but the spaces had opened up. They could see John’s car from across the lot and the three Ball Busters leaning against it.
“Oh, what is this crap?” John asked.
“Maybe they just want to wish us a good game. They forgot to inside.”
“Shut it, Erik.”
The biggest Ball Buster spoke as the three men approached. “You guys think laughing is pretty funny, huh?”
Chris and John exchanged a confused look before Chris responded, “No. Laughing isn’t funny. The funny thing has to happen before the laughing.”
One of the smaller, yet still large, Ball Busters pushed himself away from the car and pointed at Chris. “Shut up, loser.”
“You guys know this is just bowling. Right?” John asked.
The Ball Buster put a finger in John’s chest. “Just bowling?”
“Yeah. It’s just a game.”
“Ha.” The Ball Buster turned to his teammates. “No wonder these guys are such losers. They don’t understand how competition works.” He turned back to Split Happens. “That’s why you’ll always be losers.”
“You’re the one wearing a penis on his shirt,” said Erik.
“Shut up, dork!”
John clapped his hands. “Fair enough. Erik’s a dork. We’re losers. Now that all of that is settled, please step aside so we can go.”
The finger in his chest turned into a palm and stopped John from approaching the car. “You don’t get it, do you? No one laughs at the Ball Busters.”
“Oh, I’m pretty sure everyone laughs at the Ball Busters. Now get off my car.”
The Ball Buster smiled as his teammates spread out. Each lined up across from one of the losers.
“Enough!” Chris stepped forward. “This is not happening. We’re not getting into a fight in a bowling alley parking lot.”
“Because you’re a pussy.”
“No. It’s because we’re all adults. Now get out of the way.”
The largest Ball Buster stepped forward and grabbed Chris by the collar. “I’m going to hit you the hardest.”
“Is there a problem here?” It didn’t matter how many arcade games or prize machines the Fun Center put in, it was still a bowling alley and needed an officer on the premises. As any couple can tell you, whenever wood flooring and alcohol are mixed, there’s going to be a fight.
The Ball Buster released Chris and stepped away with his hands outstretched. “Not at all, Officer. Just wanted to wish him a good game.”
The cop stepped in between the men and looked each one over carefully. “I’m glad to hear that. Now, I don’t think all of you came in this car, so why don’t you all head back to your vehicles.”
There was a nervous mutter of “yes, sirs” as the Ball Busters scattered into the parking lot to their various pickup trucks.
John pulled the keys from his pocket and unlocked the car. “Thank you, Officer.”
“Have you been drinking, sir?”
“What? Wh ...?” John sighed, locked the car and dropped the keys back into his pocket.
“Yes, sir. C’mon, guys. Looks like we’re walking home.”
Dumb White Husbands vs. Zombies: Monday Page 2