In the Land of Skee

So while Kootie and Koobert are out gallivanting across America seeking each other, I thought I would relate an older story of their exploits.

I could tell it was going to be a truly grand day out. Kootie was wearing her favorite summer beret with sparkly sequins, and Koobert was armed with eight shiny quarters; clearly, they were headed to the arcade, and the high score on the “Dance-Mania” game was in serious jeopardy.

“I hop we win again,” Koobert observed wryly. This comment always makes Kootie giggle so hard, her sequins jingle.

I suppose I could describe the whole “Dance-Mania” thing, about how the dynamic duo of dance take turns hopping from one square to another in perfect time with today’s hottest rhythms, flawlessly executing ever-faster dance instructions scrolling across the computer screen. I could go into tremendous detail about the crowd of admiring spectators that gawk in amazement as the score rolls up and the minutes turn to hours. I could congratulate the pair on their teamwork, and praise their clever nimbleness for paragraphs on end. But jealousy forbids. Suffice to say they won, again, and I’m exceedingly awkward.

“So now whatcha wanna do?” Koobert asked as the breathless pair left the smoking remains of the defeated video game.

“Let’s play Skee-ball!” Kootie suggested.

For the benefit of any recent extra-terrestrials who may not know, Skee-ball is a skill game I associate with carnival midways. It is played by rolling wooden balls along a ramp at a target field full of holes with various point values. In theory, you get the best score by rolling the ball so that it leaps off the end of the ramp and settles neatly in one of the tiny target holes near the top of the target field; I wouldn’t know from personal experience, though. When I roll the ball, it usually goes in the gigantic hole near the bottom, which earns almost no points, and a chorus of sympathetic “Oh, that’s too bad” comments from any observers. I play alone whenever possible.

As they stood together before an unoccupied skee-ball machine, Kootie and Koobert had time to reflect on the sheer magic of the device. You put in a token, the machine dispenses nine wooden balls, and you’re all set to bowl for points and glory. They continued to reflect because they are very thoughtful, and because Koobert was fresh out of quarters.

“I wonder what happens to the balls that go in the target?” Koobert wondered aloud.

With a delighted yell, they hopped as one up the ramp, intent on their first love, exploration. Kootie stopped to peer into a large hole near the bottom, but that was far too tame for Koobert, whose path led him on a difficult climb to the smaller holes near the top.

“Hello,” Kootie called into the hole, but there was no response – not even an echo. She couldn’t see through the inky blackness, so that left only one choice for the curious adventurer. She hopped in.

Well, it turns out that the hole was the top end of a chute, and Kootie slid gracefully, only to be deposited at the top of a warmly lit platform, surrounded by a team of smiling creatures wearing hardhats and armed with large mallets. Kootie barely had time to take it all in before one of the creatures swung his mallet and bonked her on the top of her head.

“Ouch!” Kootie’s expostulation caused some confusion among the creatures, but after a few exchanged glances, they all readied their mallets…

“Wait,” Kootie said, readjusting her hat for more padding, she hoped, and giving her most unthreatening innocent smile. “Why did you bonk me on my head?”

“Welcome to the land of Skee,” announced the foreman of the creatures. “We are the 100 point hole crew. It is our job to pound the balls that come down the chute into 100 pieces, then shovel the pieces into the counting pails over here. Once the pieces are counted, they are squished together in the new ball press over there.” There were vague murmurs of assent for the rest of the crew, and Kootie marveled at their discipline and pride. Here were workmen that could be admired, and, oh wait a minute.

“Please don’t pound me into 100 pieces”, Kootie asked in her most polite and charming way. “I’m not actually a wooden ball.”

The foreman was clearly moved, but conflicted. After a pregnant moment of consideration, “We must make 100 pieces exactly – it is the law of Skee.” Mallets raised menacingly.

“OK, then,” Kootie said brightly. She took off her beloved sequined beret, laid it on the platform, then two hops, right into the first counting bucket. “One!” she announced.

It wasn’t long before the pounding stopped; her tattered beret, and 98 loose sequins joined her in the bucket. While waiting to be counted, Kootie had a moment to reflect on the mystery she solved. The moment was interrupted by a surprised sounding yell and some distant pounding.

“Sounds like the 20,000 point hole crew,” said the foreman.

Next time, Koobert gets very puzzled.