Pig
Pong
Charley
was on the verge of winning his 100th
game of pig pong. It was a grueling sport, but he had made it his
own, by dint of countless hours of practice on his grandmother's pig
farm. How he had sacrificed--foregoing the ice cream socials, Friday
night dances, trips to the movie theatre, birthday parties,
everything, all had been subsumed by his one goal. And it had all
been worth it. Now, with pig pong declared the newest Olympic Sport,
he was perfectly positioned for a gold medal next year at the
Pyongyang games. All the name calling, clod throwing, glance casting
scum bunnies from East Central High School would finally get their
paybacks. But now, it was time to focus. Randi had just backhanded a
big hairy sow low across the center of the net. Squealing, the pig
bounced in the near-right quadrant and spun towards the outside
corner. *Wack* ("Eeeeeeeeeee") Charley returned the hog,
dropping it just on Randi's side of the net in his patented pigspin
return. No point. It was his serve. He dropped the porker smartly for
a good bounce and slammed it towards the white line just below
Randi's navel. Yes, it took a big woman to play pig pong
successfully, but Randi was no pig. There wasn't an ounce of fat on
her 6'1" frame. She returned the swine to Charley's left corner.
Return. Right corner. Return. Left corner. Return. He began to sweat.
This was a long volley for pig pong. Usually either the table or the
suid gave out by now. Good thing they weren't playing a boar. Right.
Return. Left. Return. Right. Return. Sweat poured down Charley's
face. Randi was indeed a worthy opponent. He might just ask her out
after the game. Left. Return. Right. Return. Left. Return. Right
corner--and away. No point. Randi's serve. And so the game wore on,
neither combatant yielding. Finally, the score was 20:18, Randi's
serve, game point. She slammed the oinker down on the table and fired
it straight for the right corner. Charley lunged and whacked the pig
on the ham. He lurched back to position just in time to see the curly
tail disappear over the other end of the table. He had lost. LOST!
She must have cheated. He would NEVER ask her out now.
"Good
game," she said, grinning, "want to go for a root beer?"
The
end
Publ.
Daily Cabal, May 21, 2007
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