Jake and Fez Go
Bowling
by Michael A.
Skrien
Jake ducked as
the #13 bowling ball Fez threw at him sailed down
the aisle, knocking down all the pins in his lane
and several from the lane next to theirs.
"STEE-RIKE!" He howled.
Fez took off his prosthetic arm and waived it
above his head, dancing around the alley. The
patrons stared at him, unsure what to think.
Jake decided it was time for the fifth frame
break and promptly ordered a fifth of whiskey
from the bar. The brand was precisely what one
would expect from the liquor rail at a bowling
alley in downtown Festus, Texas. On the open
market, it would likely fetch somewhere in the
range of a $5 off coupon for a haircut, or a
prize pack from an old Happy Meal. He slaked half
the bottle before offering it to Fez, who took
and drank using his good arm.
"This ought to change my luck!"
Jake said, wiping the dribble with his sleeve.
They returned to their lane and Jake lofted his
ball over the shoulder, closing his eyes and
standing on one leg. The two were ever
competitive. Strike. The game was now tied
and each was looking at a perfect score, 300, but
needed the requisite 3 strikes in a row to finish
out.
Fez was up first. He knocked down the first two
strikes without fanfare. For the third, he went
for the fanfare. He lit a cigarette and with the
cigarette butt, he lit a firework aimed carefully
at the ball which sat on the lane, behind the
throwing line. FSSSST!!! The bottle rocket flew
at the ball, in turn propelling the ball down the
lane. A strike. POW!
“That’s 300, Ace, if you missed count.
You’re up. Good luck.” He smirked.
Jake knocked
down his first two strikes as well; the first
with a blind hook shot and the second starting in
the farthest stall of the Men’s room,
caroming off various furniture, eventually making
its way down the alley for the second strike. Now
for the third.
He grabbed a
cat from the alley and carefully set it down in
one of the chairs. He then asked a patron from
the lane next to theirs to hold his bowling ball.
He casually walked over to the bar, grabbing a
shot of whiskey and downing it, and over to the
emergency exit. He pulled the fire alarm.
People ran
amuck. The fire department came and they ran in
with the hose. The dalmatian dog on the truck ran
in as well. Upon seeing the cat, the dog went
crazy, chasing the cat around the alley. As fast
as eight legs would travel, they ran. After
several circles around the entire alley, the cat
ran between the legs of the patron holding Jake’s
ball. The dog ran between his legs and flipped
him in the air. As he fell to the ground, he
threw the ball, which travelled down the lane
towards the pins. The entire crowd now watched
the ball rolling. It hit the number one pin dead
on, and the rest of the pins began to fall. And
they did. All but one, which teetered but
remained upright.
299-300. Fez
won again.
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