Bowling bunny.

I had a dream last night that I went bowling at Cedarvale Lanes. Everyone was there: Andy Hanson, Mike Staloch, Andy Leuer. It was a lot of fun. The beer was flowing freely and even the help seemed courteous and pleasant. I was on top of my game, too. Rolling one turkey after another until I reached the penultimate frame--the ninth. Working on a strike, my eighth in a row, I suddenly realized that all the balls had turned to bunnies. Fluffy bunnies. They were hopping all over the place--off the ball racks, down and across the lanes, on the bar, in our jackets, on top of the video games, and even in the bathrooms. It was fluffy bunnies everywhere. Actually, the scene was rather beautiful. Anyway, there I was in the ninth with a perfect game going and a rabbit squirming in my hands. I looked around to see how other people were bowling these cuddly beasts. It didn't seem promising. Not only do bunnies not roll like a ball, they don't roll at all. I noticed that the best way to throw them was to chuck them back down so they'd skid into the pins. Sadly, if your bunny made it all the way to the pins and remained there long enough to be swept up by the pin clearing arm, it didn't make it back alive. The automatic return ripped them to shreds. So it was a good idea to have a couple of bunnies at your disposal, especially if you had a hot hand. So here goes nothing. Ninth frame. Perfect game. I grab a bunny off the floor. He was scampering by just looking for a piece of grass or something to stuff his maw with, I'd imagine. I grabbed him by the scruff and took my position on the arrows. I peered down at the pins and said outloud, to myself, "I'm going to knock you motherfuckers down." I went into my windup, bringing the bunny back, back, back, taking small steps towards the line. I planted my left foot, swung the right around the back and released the fluffy bunny. Time slowed here. The rabbit twisted in mid air like a cat readying itself to land on all fours. Behind me, Andy Leuer was being quiet as a lamb. The rabbit hit the lane just as I had wanted, on his back, and went rocketing towards the pins. And then I woke up.