She was going for a strike. If she got it, she would have a perfect game; her dream. She set her ball back in her pocket, started her approach, and…
Her ball went backwards. Yes, backwards. Right as she was about to roll her perfect game, it flew backwards. She knew she shouldn’t have eaten those greasy fries.
She turned around, her face beet-red, to get her ball. As she bent over to pick it up, she saw a foot on top of it. She slowly looked up only to see…