Don't Tell Me that Skee-ball is Not a Sport

...the Skee-ball swooped through the air at the speed of awesome, and clocked Mr. Congeniality right on the head.

I always knew that someday the throwing arm I had developed delivering newspapers would pay off.

He dropped to the floor with a resounding crash, and his pistol fired wildly, slaying a Mrs. Pac-Man machine as it went off. The machine died with a furious whine of protest, and then shot a load of quarters into the night air.

For a moment the entire arcade was furiously silent and still, except for the rest of the machines, which continued to light up, buzz, and send out their cheerful racket into the atmosphere.

And then from somewhere behind me, a child stage-whispered to his mom,

"Mommy, doesn't that lady know that she's supposed to throw those balls into the holes to win tickets?"

The entire place erupted into shouts of laughter.

Another kid came running up to me. He tugged on my arm and said, "That was the best show I've ever seen! Better than the movie even! They mostly just hit people with swords in that one! Want some of my tickets?"

I thanked him graciously, and said that would not be necessary, I had been paid by the people at Funspot already for performing.

He then asked for my autograph.

I signed his t-shirt.

Then I borrowed his cell phone to make a local call.(Oh, and by the way, will someone please explain to me what a 10 year old needs his own cell phone for?) Anyway,

About 15 minutes later, a Hummer and a Tacoma pulled up and double parked in front of the arcade.

I had never been so glad to see my crew mates.

They were a lot of salty knaves who were very offended on my behalf, and after slipping me a cold and refreshing can of Red Bull, they looked about, surveying the damage. My first mate went off at my request to locate a manager and pay for any damages. (What can I say? The last thing I wanted was to get banned from Funspot of all places).

They picked up the trash and tossed it out onto the sidewalk. Naturally, by "trash" I mean the scandalous villains who had chased me.

All except one.

When the Cooper, Henry "Hank" Tisdale, and the Boatswain, "Brisket" Cosgrove grabbed my previous captor and were about to toss him with the others, I stopped them.

Oh no... a short nap on a sidewalk was far too good for him.

It was time for a bit of payback. However, not wanting to fall into the same trap as he, I informed the crew that this knave should be lashed to the mast and guarded carefully.

After we had left Funspot, we returned to The Unvanquished, and the Quartermaster, Lee "Mr. Pol" Pol finalized the watch list.

And then we settled down for an evening of carousing.

Tired and beaten as I was, this went on far longer than I had planned, but when I at last left the crew to their singing and saluting one another with rum, I staggered off to my bunk victorious.

I would look for some answers from Mr. Congeniality in the morning... I wondered if he'd be laughing the next time we spoke.

Somehow...

I thought not.