Fourteen Mousetraps Later
“Yeah, right,” I said. “Like Great-Uncle Thomas had anything valuable. Near as I can tell, he only collected useless things. I found a kitchen drawer full of used mousetraps. Fourteen of ‘em.” I opened the box anyway.
Roy looked over my shoulder as I uncovered a….ball. An opaque onyx ball. “Cool. A bowling ball. You know we’ve got a team in the amateur league at Starlight Lanes.”
I hefted the ball. “I don’t think this is a bowling ball. There’s no finger holes.”
“Maybe Great-Uncle Thomas never got ‘em drilled.”
“Maybe,” I said, squinting at the ball and turning it over in my hands. It felt warm and smooth to the touch. “Can you just see him at a bowling lane?”
As I spoke, the ball sparked and the opacity sloughed into a grey mist to show Roy and me our Great-Uncle Thomas trying on bowling shoes.
“Holy shit,” said Roy. “Look at the size of his feet!”
The ball obligingly zoomed in on Great-Uncle Thomas’s feet. I wished it hadn’t. His socks were filthy.
“Definitely not a bowling ball,” said Roy.