Lanes, Laughs, and Loud Moments

Mitchell isn’t some pro bowler, but he’s not terrible either. Just below average, you know? The kind of boy who tries hard but doesn’t quite nail it every time. At Sunset Lanes, we’d be a pair—me watching his technique, offering the occasional tip, but mostly just enjoying the moment.

Our game would be nothing special. Mitchell would throw the ball, sometimes hitting pins, sometimes missing. I’d cheer either way. Not out of pity, but because that’s what friends do. We’d laugh at the gutter balls, high-five the occasional strike. Bowling isn’t about perfection—it’s about the experience.

After our game, we’d head to the bowling alley’s diner. Those classic vinyl booths, the smell of grease and possibility hanging in the air. Chili cheese dogs would be our mission. Nachos too—the kind loaded with so much cheese they’re basically a heart attack waiting to happen.

And then, the real competition would begin. A fart contest. Gross? Absolutely. Hilarious? Without a doubt. We’d be those guys, stuffing our faces with chili cheese dogs, trying to out-fart each other between bites. The diner staff would probably hate us, but we’d be dying of laughter.

Mitchell would let one rip—loud, unexpected. I’d counter with my own. Back and forth, nachos half-eaten, dogs barely touched. The kind of moment that defines friendship. No judgment, just pure, ridiculous fun.

By the end, we’d be wiping tears of laughter, our stomachs hurting from both the food and the laughing. Mitchell might not be a bowling champion, but in that moment, he’d be the king of our little world.

Sunset Lanes would never be the same.