Thanks AMF Woodlands Lanes. Thanks for precisely nothing. Here I am, stuck on a Sunday night in this speccrapular example of mass suburban development run amok, nothing to do
and no one to do it with. So I want to do a little bowling. By myself if I must.
$4.25 a game? $3.75 for shoes? I don’t want to buy the place, fa chrissake. I thought living costs were relatively low in Houston. May have to rethink the move I’ve been contemplating. Sheesh, the Phoenixville lanes back home in PA charge 2 bucks a game, and it’s a dollar on Thursdays after nine.
No matter. I’ll roll anyway, despite the legions of brain-dead adolescents on either side, who are managing to jump the balls into adjacent lanes even with the guide bars in place.
Naturally enough, I can’t score above 141, even though I had a 200 game just last week. What’s this? $40.87? I only rolled five games. I don’t give a rat’s ass if the computer says 8, I’ve only played five. The computer’s never wrong? It is this time, baby. Out, OUT you say? Okey-doke. May this place rot, then explode, then burn, then be swallowed up by the earth, your damn computer and all. May you and all your issue choke forever on the stale beer you serve up in this air-conditioned annex of hell.
Cock-knockers. Poltroons.
Fuck bowling. Fuck Houston.
Thanks for your attention.
