harold hopping, the captain of a duckpin bowling team called the pin kings in east kingdom rhode island, worked as the chief brain surgeon at the neil bohr brain medicine institute. today at his work desk, he fiddled with notes on a steno pad. he used the steno pad for writing things out whenever he needed to make a big decision but couldn't figure out the decision to make. today he needed to decide who should replace the retiring jared klupper on the pin kings. klupper had been a disappointment and frankly harold was glad to see him go. he had taken on klupper only because he was supposedly spry and vigorous for his advanced age. the fact that he was the great grandfather of a friend of his wife sealed the deal to make him an official team member. but klupper's bowling balls spent more time rattling down the gutters than rolling smoothly on the wood of the lane, and his bowling average was not even equal to his age of 86. oh, klupper was a nice enough gentlemen, but bowling, at least as harold played it, wasn't the time for gentlemen to be gentlemanly. it was war. sure, be courteous. be pleasant. even congratulate an opponent for a nicely tossed ball. but his philosophy was that every true bowling competitor always walked out of the alley with blood on their hands competitively. take a cheat step over the line, spray some oil on the opponent's bowling balls, scatter some gravel in the bowling shoes of an opponent. and when you are done with your turn, leave a fart behind you, so that the opponents spend more time trying to avoid gagging than concentrating on their form and aim.
United States