Twas the Night Before Super Saturday
So I received a text message Wednesday night from one of skeeBOSTON’s veterans, the one and only, Coozie. I need to preface this story by telling you that when I receive a text from Coozie there is NO TELLING what it could be about. Seriously. Sometimes Coozie’s text messages are more ridiculous than my female boxer Roxy dressed up in a pink santa hat (that is Roxy in the above picture, posing for her Christmas card last year… and no I had no part in taking that ridiculous picture). So anyways… I receive the following text message:
“What color is your car? White right? You’ll understand later.”
Really? I mean I had to re-read it twice just to make sure I wasn’t seeing things. Little did I know… Coozie was working on a masterpiece. An absolute GEM. So without further ado, I present to you ‘Twas the Night Before Super Saturday.
—
‘Twas the night before Super Saturday, when all through the bar
Not a skeeball was rolling, not near nor far.
The trophies were polished in boxes with care,
In hopes that The Duke soon would be there.
The skeeballers were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of hundos rolled by in their heads.
And The Baker in his apron and Beers Morgan in his cap,
Had just settled down for a PBR on tap.
When outside on Friend Street there arose such a clatter,
Beers sprang from his bar stool, to see what was the matter.
Away to the window he ran like a sprinter,
Tore open the shutters and threw up his dinner.
The moon on the breast of that new fallen blow,
Gave anger to The Greatest Bar bouncer below.
When what to Beers wondering eyes should appear,
But a shiny white Hyundai, and three dogs in the rear.
With a little duchess driver, so lively and cute,
He knew in a moment she must be with The Duke.
More rapid than eagles his boxers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and call’d them by name:
“Now Roxy! Now Kona! Now Geiger, go potty!”
“No Geiger! No Kona! No Roxy! Not on Scottie!”
“To the end of the street! To that grass, not too far!”
“Now Jump in! Jump in! Jump back into the car”
But as dogs before the wild hurricane fly,
When they’re met with an obstacle, mount to the sky;
So up to the third floor of the bar they all flew
With a box full of trophies — and new skeeshirts too:
And then in a stampede that Beers heard from a far.
The prancing and pawing of each little paw.
As he drew in his head, and was turning around,
Through the elevator door The Duke entered with a frown.
He was covered in fur, cause his dogs sometimes shed.
And his clothes were all wrinkled like he just rolled out of bed.
A bag full of score sheets was flung on his back,
And he looked like a college kid just opening his pack:
His eyes how they twinkled, his rolling hand steady,
Billy yelled over at him, “The Nachos are ready!”
He turned on the machines, all the monitors glowed
And from the guys’ pockets, the five dollars flowed.
The Baker stepped forward and rolled a full forty,
then asked for a challenge, but no one felt worthy.
Pinball Robinson showed up, a right jolly old elf,
And he laughed when he saw this in spite of himself.
He picked up his balls and showing no pity
Banked them to the right, and rolled a full fifty.
With a wink of his eye and a twist of his head
The Duke made the rest feel they had something to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And rolled a full hundo; really Duke? What a jerk.
He assured the sad players, “Someday you’ll be pros”
“All it takes is some practice, and dedication my bros”
He sprung to his car, to his dogs gave a whistle,
And away they all flew, like a nuclear missile.
But they heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight
Happy Super Saturday to all, and to all a good night!
– Christina “Coozie” Cusolito