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Her Name Was Betty.
a short story. The oracles are interested in my lower extremities. One of them is weeping as she applies amber serum to the joints near my feet. Her name is Merlow. I can tell her apart from the others by the magenta streaks on her face. She’s a quack, but I have to play along.…
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Tonawanda Bowling Center Part II
“I’ve got 4 dollars in quarters. Want to help me find the sock machine?” It’s 9 PM on a Saturday and Jimbo is sopping wet. “Sock Machine?” He must be joking. Jimbo cautiously uncurls his hand and reveals a giant pile of change. Jesus Christ, is there a sock machine here? I decide I can’t…
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Tonawanda Bowling Center (TBC)
In the mid 90’s, my entire personality came from the TBC arcade. Prize tickets were my main currency. My fortune was tied up in temporary tattoos, Trolls, and alien keychains. When I ran out of coins, I spent hours watching Mortal Kombat 2 while it ran endless clips of human carnage. Raiden was my favorite…
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Cherry Laurel Lanes, Amherst NY
Who is the maniac that has been polishing the doorknobs here for the past 40 years? Some janitorial warlock has hidden this place from the ever-consuming jaws of time. Armed with wax and Windex, they have stopped all decay. Cherry Laurel is in stasis. Free of entropy. Immortal. It is old, yet stunningly clean. If…
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Keglers at Transit Lanes Inc., Williamsville, NY
Keglers at Transit Lanes may be some of the best food you will ever eat at a bowling alley, for good reason too. The staff knows that serving lousy finger foods may provoke horrific physical attacks from the human-sasquatch hybrids that eat here. Kegler’s grill keeps their clientele happy. At Keglers, culinary art is simply…
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AMF Airport Lanes. Cheektowaga, NY
If I am ever rendered intellectually ‘unable’ to entertain myself, please make sure my caretakers send me to AMF lanes weekly. It has everything for the homeboys: bowling, an arcade, pizza with extra cheese, and a tiny bar that serves Malibu. While you strap on my velcro shoes, I need you to understand something. I…
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Five Star Lanes, South Buffalo, NY
I am a yank. This is a cold hard fact that I often forget. That is until I am forced to listen to pop-country-rap for two hours straight. Blasting through a dusty speaker synched with a disco light that has been set to “seizure mode” since 1999. The nostalgia is heavy. As are the arms…
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Bowling Diarrhea 