finding the wrong hole

The pub was rather quiet on a monday night when we decided to head down and have a couple of drinks and to play some pool.

during the start of the game, one of the ball was struck real hard and it flew off the table, bounced onto the floor a couple of times and landed right into the drainage nearby, flipping its steel drainage cover as it hit and partially covered it back as if the ball was doing a disappearing act on its own. we were amazed not by JK’s solid sounding crack of his break but by the precision in which the ball found its way from the table and into the wrong hole. the pub assistant came over and listened in astonishment as we re-enacted the situation to him, all the while he was pushing up the black specs that was constantly slipping off his oily nose.

The few of us had a brilliant plan to retrieve the ball by constructing a makeshift picker that could reach about a metre deep into the pipe, using a cuestick secured to a spoon at the end of it with duct tapes. as i got down to my knees to reach deep down into the hole to retrieve the ball, i noticed that the stench of the drainage pipe was not as potent as those along the road sides. It took only less than 3 minutes to find our ball, along with a half broken shot glass, 2 used condoms, a fork and an ipod nano. its no wonder that the recent floods in the city are the results of a clogged up drainage system.


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