America, April 27, 2005
Are your thumbs at the ready?
Into the bar he walked and across the way he looked. She was there, his nemesis, ready and waiting. Was he ready? Could he challenge her, was it to be a duel to the death? Only one way to know he thought, challenge her now or else live in fear and denial for life. So he did, and they went to the Ms. Pac Man, drinks and thumbs at the ready. |
Game one, he won, game two, she, and then game three... he! On a cloud he floated, even if she had high score for the night, as life is short, and her winnings, and points overall, shorter. Not one to gloat, or make her pain, again, another he asked, one more game.
This last was no joke, was not for fun, was not in jest. No this was for more than points, scores, or numbers, it was all for pride. Up then down, then up, then around, the score went here then there, then fast, like a hare.
In the end, when the last Ms. Pac Man fell to the power of the ghost, the score was plain, the tally known, the drinks bought, and lest anyone says, its better than dreamed and worse than hoped, but the best overall - a tie.
Such is life, sweet when ya need it.