Please click on the link Crokinophobia and read that posting first, to understand this one. While I still suffer residual dread sweats whenever the word crokinole is mentioned, I have learned to appreciate the game to some extent. Particularly when …
I UNLOAD A BIG OLE CAN OF WHUP-ASS ON RANGER’S SORRY BE-HIND ! ! IN YOUR FACE, DONKEY BUTT! ! THAT’LL LEARN YA TO TRICK ME INTO PLAYING THAT CURSED GAME !!
Two weeks ago our score was 1000 to 430 (me to him). Last wednesday, I nailed him 1000 to 560. Yeah, yeah, we tied the second game, but I wasn’t really trying ’cause I was getting hungry. We’d been foraging asparagus and then went in search of driftwood walking sticks down at the beach. The weather kinda sucked so we went to Ranger’s skycave to play some crokinole. We even traded checker colors and it didn’t help any. I realized my advantage was a checker with a chip out of it. I named him “Chip” (clever eh?). Chip has a magnetic attraction to the center hole, and on one memorable occasion, assisted in bouncing another checker into the center hole. Then he was instrumental in swatting three of Ranger’s checkers right off the board at one fell swoop. He led the charge that resulted in my achieving three center holes in one round.
‘Course, we had the inevitable situations where Ranger somehow wound up with an extra checker or two after I’d run out, but crap happens eh ? It’s not like playing poker with 5 aces. It’s kinda noticeable when you still have two checkers left when your opponent has none. As well, Ranger made it personal in his persecution of Chip. He even sent one of his thug checkers to try to mount him (yeah, you read that right).
And yes, I did research what the disc things (which I’ve been calling checkers) are supposed to be called officially. Holy Crap people, a word of advice to serious crokinole players if I may ? Get a frickin’ Life you pathetic weenees !! It’s just a silly game, with a board and a bunch of things that we used for playing checkers when our fingertips went numb from playing crokinole. Hence, I call them checkers.
At one point Ranger waxed sentimental about the good old days when we’d be too bombed to notice who was ahead. I suggested if we tried to drink like that again, we’d not care ’cause we’d be passed out before either of us hit 100 points.
As I left, I feared for Chip’s welfare since Ranger had muttered numerous threats throughout the game. Though more likely, I expect to see a new set of checkers the next time we play. Seriously though (no not really), we’re getting pretty good at it. We might look to start a local tournament (no not really either).
‘Course, Ranger in his usual trusting way hasn’t taken into account that I’m always the scorekeeper …