Angie’s Antics again…

Nobody’s going to rope me into Ten-Pin Bowling!

I’ve celebrated lots of birthdays in my time… been around a while

Every single game made me feel like screaming… howling!

No way! Not me! Never again!

***

Our Work Social, loomed

Let’s be clear…

Socialising fills me with delight

But Ten-Pin Bowling chills me with dread and fear!

***

We’re bees, buzzing… busily

Workdays dart by — like Lear jets

Friends are glimpsed far too fleetingly

Convivial chats coveted… prized.

***

So… I served up my excuses so prettily

Agreed they’d manage happily…

How ever did I end up joining in?

Instead of wisely choosing to flee!

***

Three lanes of intrepid souls

Rolled up their sleeves… donned colourful, clown shoes

Everyone, excepting me — raring to win…

Not expecting to lose!

***

A dad, young son and daughter

Perfect fellow players…

No stress… relax… I really oughta’

Take it easy… let one of the kids win!

***

How hard could it be, with bumpers to help?

Sadly, one gift I missed, was fine motor skill…

Instead blessed with an unerring, crooked aim…

Somehow, I always end up a dill!

***

Which fingers work best?

Hand, palm up … or facing the floor?

Like Goldilocks of old, all balls were tried for comfort and size

It was all merely grasping at straws!

***

Reluctant to try, I was last to bowl

With a graceless swing, thud and a clunk

That ball toppled those pins… one and all!

Loud screams celebrated… ringing loudly in disbelief!

***

Next round, that ball

Contrarily curled… without a care

It looked likely to miss… but surprised us all

Bizarrely, I wound up with a Spare!

***

With exuberant company, laughter and smiles

I was amazed to find it was fun!

The cheery young fella helpfully advised

Shift over in line with the last one.

***

Excellent, wise words with wonderful results

Despite an accidental arc

When that ruby red ball became airborne

The final pin fell… what a lark!

***

I tried to let the little lass win

Played loose and free, without a care

Perversely, I accidentally won

Causing the youngsters to almost despair!

***

Meanwhile, a friend, newly met

Seemed in dire need of a helpful tip

Close your eyes, it can’t hurt!

She tried it and let rip!

***

Well… then, she got Strike after Strike

Achieved a great score — pulled to the fore

As Ten-Pin Bowling Coach…

I wonder… will my Day Job be required anymore?!

***

Such was the hysterical hilarity and hype

I foolishly agreed to play another game

Against far more competent players

It just wasn’t at all, the same!

***

I tried so much harder

But… that wretched ball misbehaved… strayed

It persistently did wander

Away from the pins, it sure stayed!

***

Consistently last… dragging the chain

I gave up all hope of scoring until…

Bizarrely… Spares and Strikes showed their faces again

To gain me respectable third place.

***

However, the games’ autopsy results

Revealed me as a fraud

What a disappointment to miss

Winning that coveted Wooden Spoon award!

***

It really is true… an old dog can learn tricks that are new!

At a ripe old age of a hundred and two…

Or am I one hundred and three?

Maybe Ten Pin Bowling is really the game for me!

***

Author’s note: Everyone except me probably knows the Grand Loser is presented with the Wooden Spoon… hoping one day soon it will be mine.

***

For Poppy’s June Prompts… I was aiming for a cheerful, less murderous poem than these words seem to typically inspire!

You might also be interested in my original Angie’s Antics.