Buddy hated bowling. Couldn't stand the way people looked all gangly and awkward on that slippery wooden floor, couldn't stand the smell of the old carpets which looked like they'd been pulled off the floors of Studio 54 after 20 years of use, and absolutely hated the cheap diner next to the equally cheap and tawdry bar. He was so vehemently opposed to the notion that bowling was a sport that if you asked him about it, he would practically start screaming.
"Don't bring up bowling. You know I hate it! Stupid."
Jeanie couldn't exactly understand what was stupid about bowling. Not that she loved it, but her young son had decided to join a "league" (more like a gathering of tired kids on the too-early Saturday mornings and weekend dads with hangovers and unkempt beards), so she found herself trying to be positive about the game far more often than she could have ever imagined.
"But my son likes it!" She would say, innocently, emphatically, and not without wry enjoyment of Buddy's escalating pulse.
"Let's just talk about something else." Buddy grabbed a pack of smokes off his desk and high tailed it outside to the smoking section by the old Hydrangea bush. Jeanie hated the way the smokers took over all the beautifully outdoor space. It was bad when people smoked indoors, but at least you know you could escape to fresh air. Now the smokers took all that too.
"Okay, okay, fine." Jeanie replied. "Remember that scene in the first Indiana Jones where the boulder almost hits him in the tomb?" She snickered to herself and waved the smoke out of her face.
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