Ten Minutes: Bowling

Last weekend, four of us went bowling and endured a six game marathon. That’s roughly five hours of pin thrashing and three hours of drinking. As time wore on, we played through debilitating arm cramps and badly bruised hands. We had the pins scared of us. Their screams echoed off the walls after each frame as they fell, ten at a time, crushed beneath our mighty neon weapons. The gutters were empty and they stayed that way. 

By the end, high fives and compliments were liberally applied to our wounds. The lanes had gone dark and there was no news of the pin’s return. No whisper of a mounting rebellion. Our meager injuries healed quickly as we celebrated our individual victories and helped ourselves to mountains of overpriced, fried food.