IT'S A CRUEL, CRUEL SUMMER

For what is this world coming to?

What evil dwells here in our days of current?

The sacrilege, the destruction, the careless assault on one’s own happiness

This darkness I cannot take

For what you stole was mine

My own!

Your selfish recklessness has shattered my ability to trust

And whilst I was bowling no less!

‘Ling of bowl

My pastime of favoritism!

For it was only a moment that my back was turned!

For 2 glorious frames

I relished in spare euphoria

Only to have thrill and splendor ripped away from me when I see it:

You ate my tots!

You ate my tots of tater

Beautifully crisp and greasy, the perfect bite-sized potato morsel

So easily balanced between thumb and pointer

Cradling the perfect amount of ketchup or mustard or the ever refined

Mayonnaise – a dancing delicacy of oil and egg

Perfectly paring sweet and savory

You ate them all!

Tis not only a remark but a question

You ate them all?

Your great ability to shovel

13 stolen tots of tater

Swiftly down your churlish windpipe

Leaves now my beloved snack demolished!

Your gaping drooling trap

Rapidly mashing and spattering

Tiny masterful spud fragments

Until thou has left none for me?!

I am enraged

In deep calming breath I meander to the table of high top

Where you hover over my empty boat tray of paper

Sending delicious crunchy crumbs flying through the air

As you rub your shameless mitts back and forth

“Uh, you ate all my tots?”

I ask as consciously composed as utterly possible

“Oh, yeah, that was me,” remarks the Tot Thief

As she marches away, brazenly

No mea culpa?

A mea cupla you may not?

HOW DARE YOU!

How dare you eat my tots of tater!

I raise my brow, bewildered and with a sad empty belly

I look to the scoreboard only to see

The the Tot Thief's turn is here

And what's this? She is nowhere near..

Oh, yes, I shall have my revenge

One fell swoop of a three holed ball

sends chills down the lane of gutter

And then another

Until the Tot Thief's frame is the loneliest frame to ever lonely

As she waltzes up unapologetic and unaware

She sees the carnage of her almost perfect game

Outraged, she stands next to me as I whisper

"Oh, yeah, that was me."