Sometimes, you simply have to face the facts. Tonight, I learned that I may not have the skills needed to become a writer. You see, a writer needs to be able to find the perfect words, the words that don't paint a simple picture, but rather bring a thing to glorious life in the mind of the reader. This evening, however, something happened that left me at a loss for words.
I bowl. Badly. So badly, in fact, that when my father learned of my average, he asked if I quit after five frames. But I keep trying, and I hope to improve. Tonight, my league held their Christmas shindig, the highlight of which is the White Elephant gift exchange. Everyone brings a small wrapped gift, and when you bowl your first strike of the evening, you get to choose a gift.
It came as no surprise that by the time I bowled a strike there were only two gifts remaining. I looked at them for a moment, trying to gain some divine insight into which gift would suck the least. I took a deep breath and made my choice. I brought the package back to the table and unwrapped it. My mouth fell open. Words failed me. My eyes bled. Instantly, I heard the voice of the knight who guards the Holy Grail in "Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade": "He chose poorly". What could possibly have spawned such an abomination unto the earth as this…thing? What was it, you ask?
This:
Yes, it's a fish clock. A big mouth bass that tells the time. For a long time, I was convinced that the thing wasn't completely without worth. At least it told the time. And I took some comfort in the old adage: Someone had given me a fish, so not only could I eat for a day, I'd know what time dinner was. Then I realized the item came without batteries.
I studied the box.
My first thought was that the word "movement" was oddly fitting, since I nearly shit myself when I saw this thing. I focused on the journey this box had undergone. Movement made in Japan, box and case made in China, marketed by Wal-Mart in Arkansas, and shipped here to Michigan. I became instantly depressed. The clock was better traveled than I was. I was slightly cheered when I saw that the item was a Wal-Mart exclusive, but I later searched their entire website, and could find no mention of the thing. It was then that I realized that even they were ashamed by it.
My bowling partners asked what I intended to do with the thing. At first I thought I'd probably re-gift it next year, but I'm considering adding a voice chip to it. For some reason, I picture it chiming the hour, sighing heavily, and saying simply "There is no God".
Later that evening, when I showed this gift to my family, my daughter remarked that it was "gay". My son corrected her, pointing out that it wasn't just gay; it was "redneck gay". I chided the both of them. No homosexual would ever be guilty of purchasing something in such bad taste.
Still, I do owe something to the individual who placed this item into the exchange. I was so distracted by it, I couldn't concentrate on my game. Consequently, I bowled 50 pins over my average.
