Pool shark, that is.
Back in the old days, when my parents were still around, my cute little daddy surprised us all speechless, when he up and bought a pool table. We never knew he was even interested in a pool table. In fact, when I was dating a very handsome boy–who shall remain forever nameless–back in high school, there were only a few rules beyond, “Behave yourself.” They went something like this–
1) Come home the same night you went out.
2) Never get on a motorcycle–with anyone.
3) Do not, under any circumstances enter a pool hall with some guy.
So a few years later, what does he do? He tows a real live pool table into the basement and promptly becomes…
Seriously. He beat everyone–
except my mom…because he let her cheat.
One day he and Lyndi were going downstairs to “have a game” and I said, “So, is my daughter going into a pool hall with some guy?”
He said, “Naw, I’m not some guy. I’m some grampa. Don’t you worry. If I see some guys I’ll throw ’em out.” He was grinning big now, and said, “Well, at least it isn’t a motorcycle. You know how I feel about motorcycles.”
Then he laughed his head off.
Oooooh…I do miss that laugh.