If We're Lucky

Cricket arrived just before I had the chance to burst into flames, a large pizza in one hand and two books in the other. He tossed a copy of the book to each of us, Pickleball: Fun & Fundamentals, to study up on before tomorrow, and two or three slices of pizza, which we devoured.

We were in a “locker room” of sorts while Cricket was out in the busy square trying to draw a crowd for our pickleball match.
And if I do say so myself, he was doing a pretty good job.
He called out in any and every language under the sun: English, Spanish, French, German,Chinese, Japanese, Arabic, Swahili, everything. He sounded like someone outside a carnival attraction, but in about 17 different languages.
We began hearing the thunder of footsteps and a gathering crowd when Cricket made a dramatic enterence.
“I think we got a good group.”
“How many?” we demanded in syncro.
“Oh, I’d say a good thousand. Maybe more if we’re lucky. You girls ready to do some pickleball?”

Oh sure, we’d be ready. If we were lucky.

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