FOOL
By nuncher
- 454 reads
FOOL
He said he was a bachelor because of his parents incessant quarrelling
when he was younger. I didn't believe him. I reckoned it had more to do
with his three-quarter length chords, little potbelly, jam jar geggs
and upside down head. But I nodded in sympathy with him anyway.
-Are you married? he asked me.
-No, I replied. -It's never appealed to me.
-Why not? he said.
-I just didn't meet 'the one' I replied raising my index fingers to
show the invisible quotation marks that symbolised the mysteriousness
of the ideal partner.
-Me too, he replied. But I still didn't believe him.
-What is your name? he asked me.
-Frank, I replied. -What is your name? I said returning the question
in order to be polite.
-Daniel, he said putting down his pint and offering me the same hand.
As I shook it I couldn't help but notice how fragile and effeminate it
felt. It was also very wet from the condensation of his iced glass.
Noticing me dry my hand on the rear of my trousers he said
quickly:
-Oh, sorry about that, which was followed by a little chuckle that he
quickly covered with the same hand. -Would you like a game of pool
Frank? he asked me.
-Only if you promise to go easy on me, I replied.
-Don't worry, he said with another little chuckle. -I'm not very good
either. Although judging by the multi-coloured starfish on his tie I
had already guessed as much.
-Shall I break or shall you? he asked.
-We'll toss for it, I said diplomatically. Once again he made another
expression of amusement. Although this time it was a wide mouthed smile
and this time he didn't cover his mouth. He exposed two rows of tiny
teeth. Thinking about how much he looked like a dogfish I almost missed
the peculiar way he smiled long and hard at me.
-What's up? I said as soon as I noticed the strange smile and twinkle
in his eye.
-Oh nothing, he continued when he realised that I wasn't returning his
big grins. To avoid further confusion I reached into my pocket for a
coin.
-Heads or tails, I asked.
-Tails, he said.
-Heads it is. You can break, I said assertively as he began to remove
his maroon blazer to expose his cream shirt and multicoloured starfish
tie that was tucked into his corduroy three quarter length
trousers.
BANG, went the cue ball as it was smacked at force into the pile of
reds and yellows. Three balls dropped straight away: all reds.
-Beginners luck, he chuckled again and a little piece of snot began to
hang from his right nostril, which he quickly sniffed back up and
swallowed.
-I think you're a shark at this game, I said lying. The smile on his
face was huge as he bent back down to play his next shot. This one he
played slowly. Too slow.
-Unlucky, I said in consolation as the fourth of his red balls nestled
tight against the cushion.
-Damn, he cursed completely ignoring my genuine sentiments as he put
the pint of ale to his mouth. It left a little frothy moustache on his
harelip as he withdrew it.
-The brush is on isn't it, I said as I made my way to the table. -I'd
better pot one, eh? He nodded silently as I leant down and placed my
chin on the cue to size up a long yellow. I played it just hard enough
to tease it over the pocket and thereby still leaving him with the
chance of seven balling me that he was so obviously desperate to
do.
-Ooh, he said excitedly as it ground to a halt merely a few
millimetres away from the edge.
-Shit, I cursed falsely. -That could cost me that, I said faking a
sense of real disappointment.
-Too right, he said removing his thick spectacles and cleaning them on
his tie. He eagerly placed them back on his big head and made his way
back to the table with a purposeful stride.
-Don't get too confident now, I said sensing his complete disrespect
for my game. He grunted a little acknowledgement and then began
clearing up. When he got down to the one red and black I began
questioning my reasoning behind giving him a chance.
-Unlucky, I said genuinely relieved as the pressure got to him and he
fluffed his last red.
-Fucks sakes, he cursed as he stood up rapidly and span around and
stomped his foot.
-Take it easy Daniel, I said. -It's only a game. It's not that
important. He remained silent. By the look on his face it was obvious
that it was that important. From there on I decided to stop messing
around. I evened things up by playing a series of safety shots and fine
pots. Several minutes later we were both on the black with him to play.
As he positioned himself for an ambitious shot the radio in the
background broke with the latest news. The American President had
decided to press ahead with the national missile defence shield. BANG
went the cueball as he struck it with power. But it was a clumsy shot
that merely served to send the black off each cushion in a flurry. It
came to a pause just millimetres from the centre pocket leaving me with
an easy shot to take the game.
-Fool, Fool, Fool, he cursed to himself madly as I approached the
table.
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