Thankyou, thankyou, thankya very much. I'll have you know, you are reading words written by THE poster of THE high score on Golden T bowling @ The Corner Bar... oh... it was the high score for AT LEAST the last three weeks or so. I'm gonna get an agent. Maybe a few models. New digs. Pimp my ride some. Pitch fits, talk trash and do a little dance next time they televise onea our events, oh, and wear my hat slightly askew. And I'll probably come up with a charity where you all can contribute through me. Trust me on that one, k?
"It's ole 'one-shot Vic's turn isn't it?" Screw you Steve, you'e beaten me 342 times in a row, and you continue to call me 'one-shot Vic.' In fact, I lost so much GD (gosh darn) money to you Saturday night, I've financed the first three semesters of your snotnose stepson' college.
"The son-of-a-bitch got another strke." (I did).. This is where I don' say a word, walk back as uncockily as I can, and laugh like hell inside. PLEASE PLEASE LORD, I know I'm at the Corner Bar and I prolly shouldn' be, but PLEASE help to help me keep this up... k? Oh, and I PROMISE I'll come Sunday...
"GD-it (gosh-darnit) I got ANOTHER open." (Steve).. This is where I sit calmly in my chair and whoop it up inside YES, YES, YES, you dumbass! You've beaten me 612 consecutive times – HA HA HA.. Keep it up on the misses… then I calmly take my turn.
"Crap… ANOTHER one." (Vic – strike).. Yes, again face – please no emotion as I walk back to the cruddy barstool. Serves them bastards right. Hell, I'ma struggling single parent ofa kid who ain't gotta job, my car is held together with duct tape, bailing wire and prayer... HELL YES I say to myself… This is MY time to shine – and this will teach you Steve for always stealing the 'green-guy' you know I like to be..
Ok, I actually won. My name will be atop the rotating screen..oh, until they change it again Friday (dammit.).. I'd won before, but it's kinda been a drought – you know, like my intimacy world. There'd been a hitch in the getalong. I wanted to scream, I wanted to laugh, I wanted to make fun – but didn't have it in me. For I enjoy their company too much to do so. We gather, we yap sports, we trade memories of back in the day of when we could still actually run... oh – and last night the only channel we could get had the Hooters woman-of-the-year-bikini contest on – so we forced ourselves to watch it.
Like a balloon that's been pricked, I reckon occasionally we gotta let a little pressure out. Yes, perhaps upon occasion I go too frequently – but, the friggin cats don't talk much... and the only other noises I hear around there are Gladys Kravets hollerin' at her young'ns... so it's good to get away.
So bring two shiney quarters... maybe some George's for my charity thingy.. and come see me.. I may or may not pretend to know you. Oh, and that one chick that keeps flirting back. You got twenty years or so to stop that shit.
Love, Victurd.
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