Bowling
Afterwards, Vern couldn't remember whether it had been his imagination, or whether he actually had heard his wrist shatter. Well, not that any shattering had necessarily occurred; it certainly felt like it, and possibly sounded like it too, but probably that had just been his rather biased opinion.
"Shitshitshitshit," he remarked conversationally, abruptly sitting down and clutching his arm. The bowling ball, flung randomly from a hand suddenly unprepared to deal with its weight, had crashed down in the next lane over, and was now calmly disappearing down the gutter. "Shitshit," Vern added, in case anyone was confused.
He became aware suddenly that Brad and Lenny were squatting down on either side of him, and over by their seats, Marvin was gesturing frantically at the bowling alley's owner. Vern couldn't quite tell what the problem was, but after a moment the owner turned and hurried away, so probably it wasn't anything he needed to worry about. And a good thing, too. He had enough on his mind as it was.
"What?" he asked, realizing that perhaps he should be paying attention to whatever Len and Brad were saying.
Marvin hurried up behind him. "Okay, guys, the owner's calling 911," he said breathlessly. "Vern, man, you okay?"
Vern looked at his wrist, as best he could through the haze that kept seeping in around the edges of his vision. It was bent at rather a horrendous angle, but at least did not appear to be on fire. Or mauled by bears. "Maybe?"
Brad snorted. "Dammit, man, I told you that ball was too heavy for you," he muttered. "Didn't I? Didn't I just get done saying that?"
"Yeah." Vern swallowed. "You said I'd break my damn fool wrist."
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