*****
Tickle Box
Buzzard Breath
On the south side of the little community of Billiardville in Scratch County, everyone had gathered around to see Jack’s Annual Halloween 8-ball Contest. Jack’s Pool Hall was located on 123 North English Street, just off South Hustle Drive. It was the hangout for all the big I’s, little U’s and any and everyone who was somebody. There was one dude, who was really something, named Swoops Swindle. His nickname was Buzzard Breath but everyone called him Swoops.
“Hey, Swoops, my main man,” said Jack. “Give me five, brother.”
“You got it, man,” replied Swoops as they slapped hands.
Crack went the break of the pool balls. Thump, thump, thump; three balls fell into the pocket.
“Hey, Gary, check my man out over here!” yelled Jack. “And, he’s just warming up.”
Swoops slid the pool stick between his fingers again; crack it went when it hit the pool balls. Thump, thump; two more balls fell into the side pocket.
“Huh,” sighed the crowd as another thump echoed across the poolroom.
“Wow!” shouted one spectator. “Did you see that bank shot?”
“Yeah,” whispered another spectator. “He’s good, real good.”
“The best around,” spoke up Jack. “Come on, Swoops, have a cold drink on me while we wait for the contest to begin.”
As they gathered around the table, others continued to play pool in the background. The sounds of the breaking of pool balls, squeaking from the chalking of pool sticks and racking of the balls could be heard all around the room. A small bunch of close friends gathered around Swoops. They talked, laughed and bragged on his pool skills which made his head swell even more. Don’t get me wrong; Swoops was good and he knew pool. He has been the reigning 8-ball king for years. No one really knows how long he has held the title. They sat around the table drinking their cold drinks and watched a young beginner practice his pool skills. Thump sounded a pool ball as it fell into the pocket.
“Hooray!” shouted the young beginner’s friends.
Swoops just looked at him, smiled, took a deep breath and sighed.
“Good grief, man!” screamed Jack. “Watch that bad breath, brother. It’s going to drive away my customers.”
“Shoo-wee,” said another. “What died?”
“I’m sorry,” replied Swoops. “I’ll try to hold it in next time.”
“Good grief, man,” said Jack. “You are going to have to do better than that or I’m going to have to ban you from this place. Take short breaths; that might help.”
As the odor clouded about Swoops, everyone backed off and crossed over to the other side of the room.
“He’s the best pool player around,” said one spectator, but he’s got bad breath.”
“We know,” cried out the others in unison.
Finally, the odor faded away and everyone went back over to sit with Swoops. They drank their cold drinks, laughed and talked. They patted him on the back to pump him up for the contest. He loved every minute of it.
“Do you think you’ll have much competition this year, Swoops?” asked one spectator.
“Nope,” replied Swoops.
“Do you think you’ll have any new takers?” asked another.
“Nope,” replied Swoops. “I am the man.”
“Yeah, Swoops, you are the man!” they all shouted.
About that time, the front doors of the pool hall swung open. A hush fell over the poolroom. There in the doorway stood a small boy with a pool stick case in his hand with a bigger boy standing behind him. As the two stepped in the room, everyone started whispering amongst themselves.
“Who’s that kid?” asked one.
“I don’t know,” replied another. “I have never seen him around here before.”
“Rack them up, Big Dave,” cried out the little boy.
Big Dave hurriedly rounded up the pool balls and dropped them in the rack. Carefully, the little boy placed his stick behind the cue ball. Silence filled the room. Swoops’ eyes twinkled and a big smile stretched across his face. Crack went the break of the balls. Thump, thump, thump; three balls fell into the pockets.
“Wow,” said the crowed as they watched in amazement.
Crack went the cue ball; it banked off the rail of the pool table. He knocked not one, not two but three balls in. Swoops’ smile fell from his face and then he swallowed hard. The crowd looked over at Swoops with concern on their faces. Jack noticed sweat beading up on Swoops’ forehead so he placed his hand on his shoulder to console him.
“This kid ain’t nothing,” said Jack. “He’s too young. He doesn’t know anything about pool. He doesn’t have the experience you have.”
“Yeah,” cried out the crowd. “He’s just a kid; you can beat him. Swoops, Swoops, Swoops, Swoops,” they chanted.
Now, Swoops wasn’t fooled. He knew pool and he knew a hustler when he saw one because he was one. Carefully, Swoops eased up out of his chair and walked over to the little boy at the pool table. Crack went the cue ball. Crack, crack, crack was all that could be heard as the little boy ran the pool table.
“Not bad,” said Swoops. “Not bad at all.”
“Why, thank you, sir,” responded the little boy.
“Are you from around here?” questioned Swoops.
“No, sir,” replied the little boy. “I’m from the eastside.”
“The eastside,” said Swoops. “What part of the eastside?” asked Swoops.
“The lower part,” replied the little boy. “Have you ever been there?”
“No, I don’t guess I have,” replied Swoops. “Where did you learn to shoot like that?” inquired Swoops.
“I taught myself,” he replied. “What about you; where are you from?”
“Around,” answered Swoops.
“Do you play pool?” asked the little boy.
“A little,” replied Swoops.
“Are you any good?” questioned the little boy.
“I like to think so,” responded Swoops.
“Do you want to play a game?” the little boy asked.
Swoops hesitated, looked back at the crowd and back at the little boy.
“Why not!” replied Swoops.
“Hooray!” shouted the crowd as they gathered around for the game of the year.
“Rack them up,” exclaimed Swoops.
Big Dave gathered the balls and racked them up. Swoops slowly leaned over the pool table, eased his stick up to the cue ball, eyed the rack and slowly pulled back on the stick.
“You got a name kid?”
“Sure,” he replied. “My name is Sisco Skow Slepski; everyone calls me Sisco.”
Thump, thump, thump went the balls into the pocket.
“Pretty good,” said Sisco. “You’re a bad boy.”
“I like to think so, kid,” boasted Swoops as he took a deep breath and then sighed.
A rank odor slowly floated across the pool table. Everyone in the room held their noses. It didn’t take long for Sisco and Big Dave to get a whiff of the smell.
“Yuck!” screamed Big Dave.
“Good grief!” shouted Sisco. “Man, you are bad aren’t you. Like, I mean, rotten.”
The crowd couldn’t hold their noses any longer. They let go of their noses and gasped for fresh air.
“Ooo-wee!” shouted Jack. “Swoops, don’t you have any respect for others you overgrown-size turkey?”
Swoops bent back down over the pool table, eyed the billiard balls and chuckled, “I forgot to brush my teeth.”
With his keen eye, he shot the stick between his fingers and hit four balls into the pocket.
“Wow! Did you see that?” said one in the crowd. “I bet he couldn’t do that again if he wanted to.”
“Oh, yes, he can,” responded Jack. “Swoops is the best.”
“I’m tired of playing around with this little boy,” snapped Swoops.<
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Crack went the balls; they thumped one after the other into the pockets. Sisco just stood there and watched.
“Okay, Sisco,” said Swoops, “the eight ball in the side pocket.”
“Can he do it?” questioned someone in the crowd.
“Shhh,” hushed another.
The poolroom fell quiet as Swoops stretched backward over the pool table with sweat dripping from his forehead. Everyone patiently watched. Carefully and gently, Swoops prepared to make his behind the back shot. Swoops slid the pool stick between his fingers but stopped it at the crest of the ball. Then suddenly, crack sounded the pool stick as it drove the eight ball down the pool table. It banked not one, not two, but three times before it fell into the side pocket.
“Hooray!” they all cried. “Swoops, Swoops, Swoops,” they chanted.
“Rack ‘em up, Big Dave!” shouted Sisco.
Sisco chalked up his stick while Big Dave racked up the balls.
“You got a nice stick there, little boy,” said Swoops.
“Why, thank you,” replied Sisco.
“Would you like to get rid of it?” asked Swoops.
“No, not really,” replied Sisco. “Out of curiosity, what do you have in mind?”
“Well,” said Swoops, “I might be interested in playing you for it; best two out of three. If I win, I get the stick. If you win,…”
“If I win, you have to brush those nasty teeth, floss and use mouthwash,” demanded Sisco.
“Well, I don’t know about that,” Swoops sighed.
“Do it! Do it! Do it, Swoops! If not for yourself, do it for your friends,” yelled the crowd as they jumped up and down.
“Well, I guess that might be alright,” said Swoops.
“Deal,” replied Sisco.
“Deal, kid,” responded Swoops.
Sisco reached into his pocket, pulled out a quarter and flipped it to Big Dave. Big Dave snatched the quarter out of midair, rolled it down his finger and dropped it into the jukebox. Click went the jukebox; the sound boomed out across the room.
“Get down, Sisco!” shouted Big Dave. “Show us your stuff.”
The crowd broke loose. They started swinging and moving to the music. Sisco waltzed about the pool table with a thump here and thump there. Balls dropped everywhere to the hip-hop rhythm beat of rap.
“Ooo-wee, look at that kid go!” shouted one in the crowd.
“He’s got the moves, baby,” said another. “I think our main man has finally met his match.”
Everyone could tell Swoops was getting worried. He watched the new kid on the block show him up in front of his friends. Thump, thump, thump fell three more balls into the pockets.
“Okay, Swoops, the eight ball in the corner pocket,” shouted Sisco.
The jukebox beat went on. Sisco stretched out long across the pool table and eyed the cue ball to put just the right English on it. When Sisco struck the ball, Swoops took a deep breath and breathed across the pool table. Everyone patiently watched the roll of the two balls.
“Oh, man,” cried the crowd.
“I believe he did it,” whispered one.
“Shhh,” hushed another.
The eight ball banked off the end of the pool table and rolled slowly toward the corner pocket. The crowd held their breath and their knees shook. The eight ball got slower and slower as it rolled toward the pocket.
“He’s not going to make it!” shouted Jack.
The eight ball slowly rolled toward the pocket and stopped right on the edge.
“Don’t move,” cried a man in the crowd.
“Well, looks like you lost,” said Swoops as he grinned from ear to ear.
All at once, thump, it fell in. The eight ball fell into the pocket.
“Hooray!” cheered the crowd.
“Put another quarter in the jukebox,” cried out one man in the crowd. “Let’s get down, brothers. Let’s get down.”
Swoops yelled across the pool table, “Rack them up!”
As the crowd boogied down, Swoops broke loose around the pool table. Thump, thump, thump; one ball after another fell into the pockets. Swoops moved swiftly with the beat as two more balls fell in.
“Get it, brother,” yelled Jack, “I’ve got confidence in you. You can do it.”
Thump, thump, thump and another thump; the balls rolled into the pockets. Ah! The pool table was hot. Smoke could almost be seen rising up out of the pockets.
“Okay, little boy,” spoke up Swoops, “the eight ball, corner pocket. Cut that thing off!” screamed Swoops.
Jack ran over to the jukebox and hit the side of it. The room was completely silent. No one took a breath nor blinked. They didn’t even scratch their heads nor shuffle their feet. All was hush, hush. Swoops slowly aimed the eight ball. His heart raced, sweat rose up on his forehead, his hands dripped with sweat and his legs trembled. Just a little light tap, thought Swoops, just a light tap and it will all be over. Swoops tapped the stick against the cue ball; the cue ball clicked against the eight ball. Slowly, the eight ball rolled toward the corner pocket and fell in. However, the cue ball was right behind the eight ball; it stopped at the edge of the pocket. Swoops shook and trembled because he didn’t know if it was going to fall into the pocket with the eight ball. When he thought he had won, he sighed with relief, took a deep breath and blew out.
“Oh, no,” he cried. “I didn’t.”
Yep, he did. Swoops’ bad breath quickly moved across the pool table and thumped in the cue ball.
“You scratched,” exclaimed Big Dave.
“Hooray for Sisco,” cried the crowd as Swoops dropped his head.
“Okay, Swoops,” said Sisco, “here’s a toothbrush, toothpaste, floss and mouthwash.”
Nervously, Swoops reached over and took the toothbrush in his hand. Trembling, he squeezed out the toothpaste; squirt went the paste. The crowd gathered around and started rooting for Swoops. He moved the toothbrush back and forth, up and down, back and forth and up and down. As Swoops brushed his teeth, toothpaste ran down the corners of his mouth.
“Yuck!” he said. “This tastes awful.”
“Back and forth and up and down,” cried the crowd.
“Now rinse,” Sisco said when he handed him a glass of water.
Swoops took the glass, swished the water around in his mouth and spit it out in the sink. Swish, swish, swish he went again before took the towel and wiped his mouth.
“Now floss,” said Jack. “I wouldn’t have missed this for a million dollars.”
“Do I have to?” asked Swoops.
“A deal is a deal,” replied Sisco.
Swoops pulled out the floss and moved it up and down between his teeth. He flossed tooth after tooth, hurriedly rinsed again, turned up the bottle of mouthwash, swished it around in his mouth and then spit it out.
“Hooray!” they all yelled.
About that time, Swoops took a deep breath and gently sighed. Everyone stood motionless. The room filled with the fresh spearmint smell of his breath. The brushing, flossing and mouthwash had done the job. His breath no longer smelled bad.
“Whoopee!” they all cried. “Hit that jukebox, Jack.”
“Come on, kid, show me some of those nice dance moves you have,” chuckled Swoops.
As the jukebox boomed, the crowd moved with the hip-hop beat and Sisco and Swoops danced around the pool table.