Guys, I need to be honest. I’ve been in a creative slump, and nothing seems to be working. I’ve been studying the work of the greats, trying to emulate their careers. Trying to become one of them. I thought I was behaving like a true artist, but I just ended up being quote unquote “an alcoholic” and “a narcissist who makes shitty art.” Nothing’s been working. Until now. Until this moment of beautiful kismet, when my pickleball partner struck me with his racquet.
As he pummeled every inch of my body, I yelled back at him, “Come on, man, don’t look back in anger! Stop crying your heart out!” And then I realized that I missed what we had together all along. Not just an athletic partnership, but the potential for an artistic one. Him absolutely beating me with the pickleball racquet reminds me of a certain British band that starts with an O. One Direction. Then I remembered Oasis. I love Liam Gallagher! Like he was so good in “Shameless.”
I should have seen the similarities sooner. We never got along super well, but we kept rising to the top of the El Segundo, CA 35-44 y/o Amateur Pickleball tournament ranks. After he beat the shit out of me, we absolutely clobbered the team we faced next. Not as bad as he clobbered me, though. I lowkey need stitches. Hey, if he keeps the racquet, maybe it’ll fetch a pretty penny at auction one day.
I couldn’t let him have the final win, though. In return, I threw my ironically purchased tambourine at him, except he caught it and honestly, I liked the noise it made, so I hit record on GarageBand and just kept throwing it at him until he threatened to beat me again, but more importantly, quit the pickleball league.
At the end of the day, we’re kind of brothers in a way. Like eskimo brothers. And by that I mean we fucked the same girl and he found out. That girl being his wife. Which might have been why he beat the shit out of me. Am I a terrible friend and pickleball partner? Definitely maybe!