I was playing Addams Family Pinball this evening. It was my first go of the day and my first ball and I was playing like a thing possessed (or perhaps like a Thing possessed. Do you get it? Actually Thing wouldnÂ’t be very good at pinball as heÂ’d only be able to operate one flipper at a time, so scratch that.). I had racked up 60 million points and had got two extra balls already. The glory days had returned. I was going to do the mansion special easily.
Then I became aware of a figure in my peripheral vision. He had stopped to watch me. It was distracting. I caught the ball on my right hand flipper and turned to him.
Like everyone who likes pinball (except me), he was a mis-fit nerd. A skinny frame, a straggly beard, clothing that a ragamuffin might turn his nose up. The whiff of stale urine hung in the air (though to be fair that might have been to do with me). He was smiling, enjoying the excitement of my admittedly remarkable play.
But I didnÂ’t like him being there. He was breaking my concentration with his inoffensive behaviour. I tried to stare at him to inform him that he was putting me off, but he just gave me a friendly and encouraging smile. The cunt.
I played on, but the magic was gone. Within twenty seconds I made an unforced error and my first precious, lucky ball was lost.
I turned to my unwanted friend and with slight irritation in my voice said, “Would you mind not watching?”
The smile left the happy man’s face. He looked confused, “Pardon?” he said, in an indiscernible European accent.
“Can you not watch me? It’s putting me off.”
I was abrupt and discourteous. I was rude.
The man looked ruffled and upset and apologetically shuffled off.
I felt bad about this. There was no need to have treated him in such an unfriendly manner. Unbeknownst to me he was a visitor to this country. I may have ruined his holiday. He would probably return home to his own land (hard to tell where that was, just from a “pardon”) with tales of how rude the English were, how a stranger could not even enjoy the simple pleasure of watching another man playing an archaic game without being told to piss off. One day that young man might become the leader of this mystery country (or head of a terrorist network) and decide to wreak his revenge on the land of the rude pinball player.
Perhaps not, but his crest had fallen so hard that I had heard it clanking on the floor and I was ashamed.
Of course the whole incident distracted me much more than if I’d just let things be. I messed up that entire game, failing even to reach a score worthy of another extra ball (which was almost unthinkable given how well I had started). I put a few more pounds in, but the sparkling form I had begun with has deserted me. I looked around for the strange bearded man, but he seemed to have disappeared into thin air. Perhaps he had travelled further than I imagined. Perhaps he was Jesus and had been testing me. “When I wanted to watch you play pinball were you there, were you there?”
Yes I was there, obviously, I was playing pinball, but I didnÂ’t want you to watch. Nor to suggest we had a two-player game. CÂ’mon Jesus, you know thatÂ’s what you were thinking.
But then I saw the bloke sitting drinking coffee behind me.
So it probably wasnÂ’t Jesus after all.
Though I suppose even Jesus deserves the occasional latte after all the work he puts in, crying over people wanking and that.
I left the room, disappointed with my form and my wimpy nemesis got up and made his way over the machine to play.
I thought of what could have been.
