Step right up to the bygone boardwalk rite. Line up side-by-side with the other players like assembly workers in a factory to test your hand-eye acumen. Plink your coin into the slot, then heed the thunder and clatter of the wooden balls dropping down the chute. Feel the heft of the ball, like the head of a skull-bashing club. Observe the strange constellation of rings—10, 20, 30, 40, and 50. Admire the two 100s high in the corners, out of reach like twin moons in the sky. But beware of the gutter below, an ocean floor of misses. Do you dare shoot for a moon? Then roll the rumbling ball along the felt runway, off the ramp, launching toward the rings. Anticipate the landing: either the thrill of the ball burrowing into the ring (maybe even 50!) or the letdown of the ball bouncing into the gutter—the default for all those unlucky suckers. Ah, the simple ledger tallying all that volvated hope. Everyone desiring a high score, but not sure what they would do if they achieved it. Just roll the balls, accept your total, collect your tickets, and exchange them for a pittance of your dreams.
Still not a winner?
Prove you were not a mistake.
Shoot for your moon, son.
Photo by Briana Tozour on Unsplash
