More than Mousetraps
“No, definately not,” I said as I rolled the ball back and fourth in my hands. It’s surface was smooth and glassy. As I turned it this way and that the image moved with the ball always staying upright.
“I wonder what it is, where it came from,” said Roy.
“Who knows. I bet Great-Uncle Thomas never knew what it did. He just collected any junk he got his hands on.”
Suddenly, the image on the ball zoomed out and up to show Great-Uncle Thomas as the rolled his ball down the lane. He had a practiced throw and the ball sailed to the end of the lane where it left only one pin standing.
“Wow,” said Roy. “He’s a better bowler than I would have thought.”
A minute later the ball came back in the return. This time, though, before throwing it down the lane he turned to look back. He looked right into my eye and winked. Then, he turned back to the lane and let the ball fly. Like a missle it zeroed in on the last pin and knocked it over. Then he turned back, took a couple steps toward me, and mouthed hi.