Nicole Speaks French, but She's Good at Foosball
Last night, we were graced and charmed by our neighbors Dan and Nicole, who ventured out in the wonderful dark wilderness that is our humble homestead and scampered with a delightful promenade to our doorstep. La la la la la.
Regular readers of The Supreme Aglet--large in number and mighty in character--may be familiar with this pair. Nicole speaks French, but she is actually Belgian.
We learned last night that Nicole has another hidden talent beyond her ability to mangle words in a most artistic and pleasant way; specifically, she kicks donkey in Foosball.
We would not have known this had it not been for my excitable and jovial son suggesting a round of Foosball, confident that the training he and I have given each other would surely bring us victory. Nicole responded by touting her skill level in the sport, tempering her boasting by adding qualifiers such as "but that was a long time ago".
My son likely interpreted such vascillation the same way I did: all talkin' and no rockin'. To the activity room we went, prepared to demonstrate our physical superiority to our French-speaking guest.
Upon arriving at the activity room and studying our Foosball table, Nicole seemed to want to delay the inevitable by lecturing us on how a Foosball table should be properly set up, and that the quality of Foosball tables she had used in competition were far more worthy than the $60 example from Target that ours is. She further insisted that we alter our table to favor her strong hand. We complied, only because we felt she was likely crying out for a handicap.
My son and I played as a team against Nicole, who insisted on playing on her own. This was certainly permissable, as it only meant more points for us.
As the game began, we were somewhat impressed at Nicole's ability to keep up with our level of play, answering our goals with goals of her own, and sometimes even being ahead by a goal, (of course, we were letting it happen).
At about a 6-6 score, something kicked in. Something both terrifying and awe-inspiring. Nicole had finally put on her game face, and we would be her victims.
At this level of play, the numbers of little plastic men on her side became irrelevant, as she would use her goalie as essentially the only player she needed to bring shame on us. Our little plastic men became equally irrelevant as she used her goalie to both defend and score with impunity.
Of course, she was the guest, so we let it happen that way; but it reminded me of a recent basketball defeat against my sister-in-law Marion, who is older than I, no taller than I, and who insisted on playing in her sandals; but that's a story for another time.
In our hearts, my son and I know that we are Team Superior, turning little plastic men into icons of victory for all to see (except Nicole), and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.
Regular readers of The Supreme Aglet--large in number and mighty in character--may be familiar with this pair. Nicole speaks French, but she is actually Belgian.
We learned last night that Nicole has another hidden talent beyond her ability to mangle words in a most artistic and pleasant way; specifically, she kicks donkey in Foosball.
We would not have known this had it not been for my excitable and jovial son suggesting a round of Foosball, confident that the training he and I have given each other would surely bring us victory. Nicole responded by touting her skill level in the sport, tempering her boasting by adding qualifiers such as "but that was a long time ago".
My son likely interpreted such vascillation the same way I did: all talkin' and no rockin'. To the activity room we went, prepared to demonstrate our physical superiority to our French-speaking guest.
Upon arriving at the activity room and studying our Foosball table, Nicole seemed to want to delay the inevitable by lecturing us on how a Foosball table should be properly set up, and that the quality of Foosball tables she had used in competition were far more worthy than the $60 example from Target that ours is. She further insisted that we alter our table to favor her strong hand. We complied, only because we felt she was likely crying out for a handicap.
My son and I played as a team against Nicole, who insisted on playing on her own. This was certainly permissable, as it only meant more points for us.
As the game began, we were somewhat impressed at Nicole's ability to keep up with our level of play, answering our goals with goals of her own, and sometimes even being ahead by a goal, (of course, we were letting it happen).
At about a 6-6 score, something kicked in. Something both terrifying and awe-inspiring. Nicole had finally put on her game face, and we would be her victims.
At this level of play, the numbers of little plastic men on her side became irrelevant, as she would use her goalie as essentially the only player she needed to bring shame on us. Our little plastic men became equally irrelevant as she used her goalie to both defend and score with impunity.
Of course, she was the guest, so we let it happen that way; but it reminded me of a recent basketball defeat against my sister-in-law Marion, who is older than I, no taller than I, and who insisted on playing in her sandals; but that's a story for another time.
In our hearts, my son and I know that we are Team Superior, turning little plastic men into icons of victory for all to see (except Nicole), and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.
posted by The Supreme Aglet at 10:31 AM
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