Willard and His Bowling Trophies Read Online Free Page A

with transmissions that he once fixed a transmission so well that when the man who owned the car, the chief of police, got into it and turned the engine on and shifted gears, he started crying because the transmission was in such great shape. The chief was not a man known for easy tears.
    Mother Logan was a pleasant woman who minded her own business and did a lot of baking. She just loved to have her oven on. The house was always filled with cakes and pies and cookies.
    The Logan brothers had a typical uneventful American childhood. They were no rougher or gentler than other boys. They had their share of illnesses and broken arms and getting into minor trouble or pleasing their parents with one thing or another.
    Once they all got together and built their mother a birdhouse to put outside the window she looked out from while she was mixing her doughs, crusts, batters, and frostings. The birdhouse pleased her a great deal.
    Unfortunately, birds did not like the house and not a single bird ever used it, but still it was something to look at and she would look at it while she baked away.
    Birds are not necessary for baking.
    The only outstanding characteristic of the Logan brothers was their interest in bowling. The brothers just loved to bowl and they were good at it, too. There was a bowling alley a few blocks away from their house and it was like a second home to them.
    Those bowling alleys were as familiar to them as their mother’s baking. They all got shivers up and down their spines every time they touched a bowling ball, and the sound of crashing pins was music to their ears.
    They formed a junior high school bowling team that won the state championship with a team average of 152, which of course led them to winning the first of their many bowling trophies. They thought that the most beautiful thing they had ever seen was that trophy.
    You could say with a great deal of conviction that those boys had very little else except bowling on their minds.

At home with the bowling trophies
    By the time the Logan brothers were in their middle twenties, they had accumulated over fifty bowling trophies. They continued living in their parents’ house and found various jobs in town and never went out with girls and devoted themselves like monks to bowling and like bankers to the gathering of trophies.
    They used to sit around the house at night when they weren’t out bowling and drink beer and stare affectionately at their bowling trophies.
    The trophies were housed in a magnificent oak cabinet that was polished to such a shine that it was like a form of wooden gold. The glass doors to the cabinet were breathtaking. It is very rare for the doors to a cabinet to take your breath away.
    The house was usually filled with the scent of something being baked in the kitchen and their father was always watching television after another day of fixing transmissions.
    The Logan brothers had a good life because they were doing exactly what they wanted to do and they had their bowling trophies to show how good they were at their life.

Coming
    It was pleasure, frustration and hatred when he came inside of her. There was a mud-like oozing explosion of release. Then the feeling of sperm confined against the end of his penis, held prisoner in the rubber. Sometimes he almost got sick at his stomach or felt like crying.
    She had gotten so that she could come sometimes when he came. It was hard but sometimes she could do it. It always made her feel weird now when she came to his coming which was in the form of rubber. She felt as if she were making love to somebody who lived in another country.
    Before the venereal warts visited their lives, sex had been to them like having a beautiful picnic in a field of comets. But now he spread-eagled her on the bed, tying her arms and legs to the four posts of the bed or he tied her hands behind her back. She didn’t like to have her hands tied that way because it was very uncomfortable.
    She didn’t mind