August 6, 2015 by writehandman.com.au
Here’s one of the more hilarious things I can remember seeing.
About 20 years ago, eight of us lads were at an Eastern Suburbs bowling club. We had been there since midday, bowling for a while but mainly drinking ridiculously heavily. We had the place to ourselves all day, however as evening approached there was some sort of “barefoot night-time bowls” action, so it slowly became busier and busier.
Anyway, at about 8:00 pm, a MASSIVE storm blew over. And I mean massive! Thunder, lightning, bucketing rain, the works. We along with about 60 or so other bowlers, all rushed into the clubhouse to get out of the squall. However, our mate Mac (keep in mind we’d been drinking heavily since midday) was too out-of-it to budge. He was in the bad place of over-intoxication and could not move (or be moved) off the bench.
Mac, back then, was 112kg, 6 foot 4, commando in the army, so we physically could not move him. Not in our state anyway. So we had to leave him sitting out in the perfect storm. We stood around with old bowlers, with our beers and watched and laughed at our friend out there, unmoving as wind and rain lashed him.
While keeping an eye through the window on Mac (being responsible 25-year-olds at the time), we made our plans to relocate to a slightly more lads-on-the-piss type bar, when finally, after what must have been an hour sitting in the soaking tempest, Mac suddenly sprang to life.
For whatever reason, he got his second wind and amazingly he wandered into the bowling club without stumbling or anything.
He looked like he’d just stepped out of a pool. As EVERYBODY in the place had been laughing at Mac on a bench in a hurricane, he get a rousing round of applause. He was wet, embarrassed and intoxicated.
Mac spotted us standing just off to the side of the only pool table. He wondered over, looked ridiculous, but relatively with-it. He approached me.
Me – “Mac, you’re alive! It’s your f##king shot mate. Hurry up! We’ve been waiting long enough. It’s your shot! We’re on bigs.”
Now Mac after his sleep, was feeling quite spritely and in control of his senses.
All 6”4”, 112kg of Mac leaving puddles wherever he stopped, spied our opponents in the pool game. Two ten-year-old boys.
There’s only one pool cue in the place and it’s old, bent and rough. Mac, feeling better and better, wandered over and confidently plucked the cue out of the overweight ten-year-old’s hands. With a look of complete disdain for the kid, Mac leaned over, water running off his chin and onto the table, and somehow managed to sink the purple twelve. The right ball even.
This success, went straight to Mac’s head. He’d been feeling terrible, sitting in a typhoon, while dozens of people sniggered at him. He had gone, in just a few short moments, from the laughing stock of the establishment, to the kick-arse pool shark, who’d just shown them all! The sky was now the limit for Mac. He had his dignity back.
Going a bit over the top with his one-ball success, Mac raised the cue above his head and did a mocking dance in front of the pudgy little kid. He chanted loud and proud, like he’d just won a Grand Final.
Mac – “YEAH! TWELVE BALL GONE! YOU THOUGHT I’D MISS IT DIDN’T YOU SONNY. WELL NOT ON MY WATCH. NOT OL’ MAC! WHERE’S THE TWELVE BALL KID… OH… IT’S GONE. EL GONSKI KID!”
The child just looked up at the massive man. His face had a mixture of fear, surprise and… well more fear. The kid’s mother then bustled up to Mac. She came up to about his navel. She was VERY angry.
Mother – “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING YOU BIG DUFUS? WHY DON’T YOU GO BACK AND SIT ON YOUR BENCH YOU… MORON.” She slapped the cue out of his hands. It bounced on the carpeted floor.
Now Mac even in his inebriated mind knew that his mocking dance and mocking words, had possibly been out of line when playing a child. And he definitely did see fear in the ten-year-olds eyes when he discoed in front of him, but come on! That’s what playing pool when you’re out with the lads is all about. He considered telling the mother that it’s just part of the game, to lighten up a little, but she looked really mad so he didn’t.
Mac wandered back to us lads and we were in hysterics. I personally can’t ever remember laughing louder or longer.
Mac – “Jeez the mum’s a bit touchy.”
Me – “Mac (I put a hand on his shoulder) we weren’t actually playing (a lot more laughter).”
He froze. It dawned on him. His jaw dropped. We weren’t actually playing. He’s rocked up to this little ten-year-old who’s having a quiet game of pool with his brother, plucked the cue out of his chubby little hands, sunk one of his balls and had done a teasing “in your face” dance, right in front of the terrified kid. No wonder his mum slapped the cue out of his hands.
Mac then stumbled over to the mother, his new-found sobriety having been torn from him and tried to shout them another game of pool.
Mother – “Keep away from my children”.
We laughed. Mac dripped.
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