Bowling
I am alone with my thoughts, yet not alone, for there are people all around. I am snapped back to reality as someone calls my name. "Tschuk!," they say, "it's your turn." I hear the sounds of the bowling alley: the balls rolling, pins crashing, people screaming, horns honking, cows mooing. I approach the lane, searching for my most excellent "Satellite" brand bowling ball. I must concentrate on the pins, so I attempt to push the different sounds to the back of my mind. Suddenly, I hear the jukebox kick in, playing the chorus of a popular song by "Ugly Kid Joe". I become angered. Why must I listen to this song? Every Single Day. But no...I must stifle this anger. Someone behind me says, "C'mon Tschuk!, what's goin' on. We don't got all day!" I take a deep breath and clear my head. I begin to approach the foul line, keeping in mind the proper procedure. Step. Step. Step. Sl-lide. I release the ball, thumb first, then fingers, for a subtle spin that will direct the ball right in the pocket. Now there is nothing to do but watch. The ball enters the pins, throwing them aside, like any ball might do if properly motivated. But alas, the pins numbered seven and ten still remain standing.
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