Issuu on Google+

The night of games Air hockey in a bar. The players would probably body check each other if they were a little closer to one another. It gets downright aggressive. The puck banging the rails with that high pitch resonance of plastic hitting plastic. I had played a few rounds with suprising success considering how intoxicated I was. There was a guy who beat and a rematch was in order. Our game ran to a tie and the table clocked out. The stalemate took too long. We had each put a dollar on ourselves to win. -20 dollars says my boy takes it My friend Iowa had now put me into a winner takes all situation. The opponents friend hesitating -You don’t think your boy can do it?, says Iowa. That was it. 20 dollars a side air hockey to the death. I thought I had it but truthfully he was the one who beat me initially. That last game ended even so I had yet to prove my superiority. But still I felt confident. Iowa flipped the puck. Possesion went to the other guy who quickly slammed one in. My girl and her friends watched with Iowa and Carlos. Just then their female entourage piled in the arena. It was definately do or die time. Twenty dollars was at stake for one, for two I needed to bring one home for the team. Air hockey moves fast so in the blink of an eye it was 3 to 3 with an exclamation of victory or defeat with each score. I could see he was losing steam though. He wasn’t fighting, he was fighting back, I knew I could end him. And that’s what I did. There are many ways to vanquish a man. But sound of the table dying table after the winning point is scored, the constrast from the breathing machine to the stale mechanical corpse really drives the nail in the coffin. It’s over.

The night of games