Sixteenth Day Event Prompt:
Quackity and Schlatt have a bowling night
top tier bowling (1077 words)
read on ao3
This is such a bad idea. Such a fucking bad idea.
Quackity is pacing around Schlatt's grave, mind running a million miles per hour, filled with all the horrible, terrible things that could happen if he goes through with this shit.
What-fucking-ever. It's not like this is the first bad idea he's executed, and it sure as hell won't be the last.
Which brings him to his next problem: How does one summon a ghost?
Maybe he should've asked somebody, but he would rather take his final life than seek assistance. Call him dramatic, but relying on anyone hasn't gotten him anywhere.
So Quackity, not thinking anything through, takes a deep breath, and shouts, "Schlatt- or Glatt, whatever the hell you go by now, Quackity from Las Nevadas wants to have a fucking talk. I wanna fucking talk."
Quackity doesn't know what he was expecting. He probably thought Schlatt was going to descend down from the heavens, if that's even a thing; or maybe up from hell (where he deserves to fucking rot). Maybe Schlatt was going to just fade in in front of him.
He sure as hell wasn't expecting the guy to just wake up behind the grave, eyes blinking awake, a hand wrapped tightly around an empty glass bottle.
Quackity doesn't even need to think to know what was in that bottle.
Schlatt stretches, bones cracking from neglect of god knows how many weeks, before registering Quackity's presence.
"Ay! Quackity, what'dya wake me up for? I was having a damn good nap, asshole!" He yawns, extending his limbs, "Better be a damn good reason."
Quackity plasters on a smile, clearly pleased to be annoying him, "Wanna go bowling?"
Schlatt blinks. "Excuse me?'
"You. Me. Las Nevadas. Just recently opened up a bowling alley," Quackity says, like that explains anything, "Wanna go bowling?"
"Are you fucking kidding me? This is what you fucking woke me up for-"
Quackity pinches his nose and sighs, putting all his cards on the table, "There'll be drinks."
Schlatt looks unfazed, before his mouth spreads into a wide, toothy grin, "Well, why didn't you say so sooner? Lead the way, my friend!" He throws his free hand around Quackity's shoulders, which gets shrugged off immediately.
===
Las Nevadas is a lot bigger than Schlatt remembers.
There's a lot more lights as well, he notes as he looks around the bustling city. The night is young, so the billboards and signs aren't in full effect yet. He wonders what it'll be like in the dark.
He really needs to wake up more.
Quackity leads them into a stubby building around the corner, appropriately named the "Las Nevadas Bowling Alley", down a few flights of stairs. It opens up to a massive space, lined with bowling lanes, lavish sofas, and those flashy rip-off stores that provide the bowling shoes and overpriced food.
Schlatt is guided to sit on a sofa, as Quackity goes to, presumably, get the alcohol. With a place like this, Schlatt can't imagine the quality of liquor he'll be receiving.
With two bottles in one hand, laced inbetween his fingers, and a stack of cups in the other, Quackity returns and places all the items on the glass cocktail table in the center of the seats, before going to configure the game on the screen.
"Usual settings?" Without turning from the screen, Quackity asks, before snickering, "You don't need the bumpers, do you?
Schlatt scoffs, "No! I don't need the fucking handrails."
Quackity rolls his eyes and laugh, clearly unconvinced, but hey, it'll be entertaining either way.
He clicks a few more buttons that Schlatt just, does not understandm and will not question, and the pins are lined up, the bowling balls rolling and thunking onto the rack neatly, all the reds and blacks and golds of Las Nevadas.
The host waves a hand for Schlatt, signalling for him to go first, "Guests first."
"Too pussy to go first, huh?" Schlatt sneers as he slots his fingers into the bowling ball, "Yeah, watch the master at work."
Schlatt rolls his ball straight into the gutter, much to the pleasure of Quackity and his shit-eating smile.
He glares at the man on the couch, before going a second time. It hits one pin.
Quackity lets out a guffaw. "The 'master at work', huh? Fucking hell, that was sad!" He says, as he pours out the drinks, nearly spilling it from laughing.
Schlatt sits on the sofa angrily, grabbing a cup, "Yeah? The only sad thing is you being on your final fucking life, asshole," He takes a sip of the alcohol, eyes sparkling as he tastes the liquid, "Oh shit, this is good! You are loaded ," tongue rolling at the 'L'.
"First of all, not taking comments about my life from a goddamn ghost; Secondly, yeah this shit is good! Gotta live up to the name, y'know," Quackity stands up and grabs a bowling ball, "Now, watch this ."
Quackity throws the ball into the air, landing with a bang on the lane before rolling into the gutter.
Clearly, neither of them know how bowling works.
Quackity laughs nervously, "Second time- Second time's the charm! That was a warmup-" He rolls the ball softly, going about a meter before slowly rolling into the gutter.
"You have weak ass arms, my fucking god!" Schlatt gets up to survey the area where the bowling ball landed the first time, "This is a strong floor, by the way, how did it even survive that throw?"
That comment is met with a glare. The screen above flashes "Turn 2" in bright letters.
Schlatt take a ball, holding up to eye level (That's what the professionals do, right?) before sliding the ball towards the pins. It hits 4 of them.
"Yeah! Look at that, bitch!" Schlatt exclaims, as Quackity rolls his eyes and groans in annoyance.
"It's fucking- beginner's luck, asshat." Quackity goes, as Schlatt scores a 1 on his second turn.
Schlatt cackles, "Beat that ! Bet your weak-ass arms can't."
Quackity laughs, full-chest and holding nothing back. "I am going to bash your head in with this god damn bowling ball." He rolls, scoring a total of 6. Quackity's lips stretches into wide beam of pride as Schlatt splutters in bewilderment, mouth agape.
"Fucking did beat you."
Quackity's chest feels a lot lighter as he laughs at both of their terrible behavior, the night passing like wind. Maybe it was worth going along with stupid ideas.
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