(Why is Jesus in the subject field?  To get by my uncle's spam filter.)

IN WHICH We Bowl, Partake Of Pizza And The Best Stinking Soda I've Tasted In A Very Long Time, And I Really Mean That - This Was Excellent Soda, Let Me Tell You, So Good That I Still Remember My First Taste As If I Had Just Had It Three Minutes Ago, AND I Continue My Superhuman Feat, As We Wind Up Bowling And Begin To Proceed Towards Roller Skating.

We began to bowl, as I promised last time (which seems so long ago) - and as we did the first time, we kind of put the kids into their own lanes, while we bowled at our own lane.  One of them - the obnoxious older one - wanted to bowl with us, though.  I felt kind of bad for him, because it was obvious that he was going through a time in his life when he still acted like a child, but he didn't want us to see him as one.  Briefly, I thought, if we let him bowl with us, would it help him behave?  I never really came to a conclusion, which was just as well, because Mike told him he had to bowl with the other kids, or else everyone would want to come to our lane.  He spent the night lofting balls just enough to annoy us with the noise, but not enough to get yelled at for damaging the lane.

Last year, I bowled bad the first four games, but came on strong in the fifth, actually defeating Mike with my highest score ever - a 156.  Some of you may even recall that I came up with a strike and a spare in the pivotal tenth frame, in the face of overwhelming pressure, to win the match.  I was going to quote it right here, but due to technical difficulties, I can't access my copy - just suffice to say that it was a wild thrillride of suspense and intrigue that ended with my shocking and amazing victory.

Unfortunately, nothing even remotely like that happened this year.  I bowled like I had a prosthetic arm - and not one of those funky new ones with the lubricated joints and lifelike movements either, but one of the old ones that they might give you if you were in the war and your arm got blown off, made out of sheet metal, ball bearings, and tar, perhaps applied with a solid weld to your shoulder, owing its survival to plenty of solder and good old American ingenuity.  I lost to Mike every time.  I lost to Jason twice.  For the love of all that's good, I even lost to Josh once.  And folks, that hurts me to say.  (Here are some pictures of the bowling - Josh, Mike, Jay, and me.)

No, this trip to the bowling alley was memorable not for the bowling, but for the soda.  As part of the youth event, food and drink is provided at the places of entertainment, and though the pizza was nothing special, plus we didn't get enough of it (if it's mediocre, I at least want a lot!), the soda was outstanding.  Delivered from squeeze nozzles by employees, as if it were a 1950's soda fountain, my first glass was soda the way it was meant to be!  Pure!  Cool!  Crisp!  Tasty!!!  I drank it all quickly, before the ice could melt, making sure to request no ice in the next five cups I had.  None of them reached the heights of my first, but each was profoundly better than any of the canned or bottled soda I had tasted in the past.  I have tasted the future, my friends - and it comes out of a squeeze nozzle, operated by a middle-aged woman named Marge.

It quickly came time to leave the bowling alley, and the punk guy who had been announcing retarded little contests the whole time, trying to interfere with our serious bowling, informed us all that we needed to vacate the lanes immediately.  We couldn't even finish our last two frames.  Several of the kids decided that they needed to use the bathroom, and they were accompanied by a few chaperones, while I waited outside with the rest.  By now, the other three had all recognized this feat (which I had begun unknowingly, and was continuing not out of a desire to prolong it, but just because it didn't yet need to cease), and we were all equally perplexed and awed by it.  How long would it be?  At this point, it had been over 12 soda-drenched hours.

We proceeded to the roller rink to embark on the next stage of our adventure.

TO BE CONTINUED

Part Twelve

NHS Speech

"My View" Editorial

The October Surprise
|  Round 1 |  2  |  3  |  4  |  5  |
|   6  |  7  |  8  |  9  |  10  |
|  11  |  12  |  Final Bell  |

Journey to Jersey II
|  Intro  |  1  |  2  |  3  |  4  |  5  |
|   6  |  7  |  8  |  9  |  10  |  11  |
|  12  |  13  |  14  |  15  |

Journey to Jersey I
|  1  |  2  |  3  |  4  |  5  |   6  |  7  |  8  |
|  9  |  10  |  11  |  12  |  13  |  14  |
|  15  |  16  |  17  |  18  |  19  |  20  |

An Epic Saga
|  Act  1  |  2  |  3  |  4  |  5  |
|   6  |  7  |  8  |  9  |  10  |  11  |
|  12  |  13  |  14  |  15  |  16  |

Christian Rock Email

Freshman Room Draw
|  Part One  |  Two  |
|  Three  |  Four  |  Five  |