The Lane 7 Pin Technician

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"Excuse me Ma'am, can I help you?"

"Whatchu is? Maintenance?"

"No, honey, I'm Starlight Lanes resident Lane 7 Pin Technician." He spoke in a voice which he'd cultivated over his 19 years until, he hoped, it had become reminiscent of the margarine-soft tones of Elvis Presley blended with the gravelly manly manliness of Chuck Bloke Norris. "Looks like you've got yourself a blockage here. Can I help?"

"Uh, yes please," She snapped her gum at him in a flirty way. "Our pink ball's stuck down there. Cindy fought it was her turn again so she chucked her ball down on topa mine. Pushed mine back di'nit, Cinders? Ya know, it's really messed up our rotation Mr. Technician. No chance we can get a free game over 'ere is vere?" The girl stepped towards him, revealing a very revealing slit in her black mini dress. The opening between the spandex fabric stretched almost as high as the gold chain belt which hung loosely from her small waist.

"I- Chuck Bloke Norris don't fail me now!- I'll see what I can do for you ladies. In the meantime, let's get rid of pinky down there." As he began his walk down the side of the lane to get to the other side the girls called out to him some skanky remarks.

"How ya fit all that man in them overalls Mr. Technician?"

"Yeah, yeah, after you fix them pins I've got a couple more for ya to look at!"

"Looks like we got us a lucky strike tonight, Cinders!"

"I'll be your spare wiv two pins in the air!"

They got progressively more witty as the tehnician grew closer to the secret behind-lane door and he lamented stepping out of earshot. But a job was a job and he took his job very seriously.

The technician had applied for this particular job 6 times before he got it. That showed the boss that he really wanted it. Since that joyful day when he had signed the tax file number declaration form and donned his yellow 'Staff' badge that technician had made it his job to prove his worth.

Within six months he had become the best lane technician at Starlight Bowls. He hoped that one day he would become the manager of the whole entire place.

The technician had always loved the bowling alley. There was something about that sound of urethane against wood. That special and satisfying 'knock' that could just set your spirits soaring as high as the sky. Plus, it's a well known fact- chicks dig guys who bowl. And by spending a lot of time in the lanes, our lane 7 pin technician was, indeed, a little bit hotter by association.

In truth, he couldn't bowl to save his favourite bowling shoes- but nobody really had to know that. As long as people kept throwing balls on top of other balls, this technician was an A grade hot commodity.

On this particular day, our lane 7 pin technician successfully cleared the pink ball and came back to lane 7 to give a progress update to the skanky girls. They jumped on him and started pashing his face, right there on the awkward players seating circle.

The technician was given a real razzing by his boss and then he was fired.

He moved to a small city just outside of Perth and got a job his first time applying for a job at a bowling alley up there. It was called Wax On Lanes and he was the head pin technician, the only pin technician. At first he didn't think he could handle the stress of technicianing for allll four lanes at one time but, he swallowed his fear and gulped back his nerves and he handled that alley like a champ.

When the General Manager of the establishment carked it two years later due to severe complications from 20 years in the coal mining industry the technician was next in line for the job.

With a chest swelled with pride and a smile filled with teeth the technician became a manager. And after hours, when the last disco bowlers had polished their balls and left for the night, the ex-technician taught himself to bowl.

And he was bad. He was bad at bowling like prawns in a bucket of milk on a hot tin roof left out for the summer is bad. He was bad.

And when he realised he was bad his passion for bowling died an instant death and he got his truck license and moved earth.

If he couldn't be a four bagger, he didn't want to hear urethane touch wood at all.