Meridian Star

March 22, 2013

The Beauteous Bowling Babes

By Anne McKee / guest columnist
The Meridian Star

MERIDIAN —    The Beauteous Bowling Babes team made it to the final playoff, and it was looking good. All eight team members were in the prime of their bowling expertise. The workouts were teeth-gnashing and muscle-bruising, but so-o-o worth it, however, the powdering, polishing, and primping was the real secret of their success.

    The Magnolia Grove/Armadillo County Grand Championship Bowling Jamboree was set for Saturday morning, and the Beauteous Babes gathered for their final strategy. The opposing team was the well-known, Gutter and You Die, group of cut-throat bowling women from over at the penitentiary. Just to mention their name brought fright and terror, and not only to the women, but the men-folk as well.

    However, the Beauteous Babes were no slouches in the terror category. It was a well-known fact their secret weapon was the Three M’s and we ain’t talking chocolate candy here. No, the Three M’s were Mavis, Mildred, and Maxine. Be afraid!

    “Check. Check. Check. Let’s see, we’ve selected our lane, made arrangements for new shoes and uniforms, made appointments with the radio station and newspaper. What else?” Maxine pondered over each item.

    “Uh-oh, we forgot to make hair appointments,” Mavis yelled. “And I was a-thinking that we might as well have our nails done and pedicures too. Oh, yes, and a massage for everyone. We can probably have a salon do all free since we are almost champions.”

    The calls went out and Mavis returned with a smile, “All done – this is fun,” she said.

    “Is there anything else important?” Mildred asked the ladies.

    “Uh-err, well, we could practice our bowling game,” Maxine suggested hesitantly.

    “Oh, that,” Mildred suddenly remembered. “Okay, what is good for everyone – how about Tuesday morning?”

    “That’s our new uniform fitting time,” Mavis answered.

    Mildred tried again, “Then Wednesday afternoon – no, wait, that’s our interview with the newspaper and radio station. Hmm, this is getting complicated.”

    Everyone studied the obvious time crunch.

    “I suppose we could squeeze in a practice Thursday afternoon after our nail and pedicure appointments,” Mildred suggested.

    “No, and mess up our nails?”

    Mildred shook her head, “Oh that’s right. We will decide a practice time later.”

    This concluded the strategy meeting.

    The Babes arrived at the bowling center early Saturday morning. Oh, they looked good, real good, and as they entered, the Babes turned around and around to give the entire gorgeous look for all of their fans to adore.

     As the team settled into their audacious, but at the same time unassuming warm-up calisthenics, there were groans heard from the stands. The groans grew louder and louder and became an outright howl. Could it be? Yes, the Gutter and You Die team, affectionately known as the Gutter-Girls, was making their way into the bowling center.

    This bunch of gals seemed downright shabby in appearance and protocol when compared to the darlings of the bowling arena on the most important day in Magnolia Grove/Armadillo County bowling history. Mavis, Mildred, Maxine, and the other Beauteous Babes could not help but notice their extreme need for just about everything — hair, color-coordinated uniforms, nails?

    Mildred said, “It’s obvious these girls know nothing about glamour.” Mavis, Maxine, and the other Babes nodded their heads in agreement.

    “One, two, three, four,” barked the team captain as the Gutter-Girls performed their warm-ups. All team members marched in a tight circle as they demonstrated precision and muscle tone in ways that were unthinkable for most men, much less women. It was sort of scary just to see the strength and power that these ole girls possessed. The men-folk, who had arrived early to get good seats right up front, began to move farther back. Sitting on the back row might be safer – in more ways than one.

    The Gutter-Girls, obviously not giving a rip about good looks, only showed gritted teeth (for those with teeth) and hard eyes as they glared with deadly hostility toward anyone breathing, and that was just about everyone at the bowling center on this momentous day. Whew!  This was going to be an unforgettable day when listed in the annals of Armadillo County history.

    The challengers were the first up and out walked the most electrifying specimen of womanhood on this side of Hades, and she wielded the most gosh-awful hunk of a bowling ball ever witnessed in this little bowling center. Everyone was sure it would take out the whole south end of the building, which evidently was superbly built, because the ball found its mark into a perfect strike. The Gutter-Girl smiled; at least it looked sort of like a smile. Who really knew?

    Now it was time for the Beauteous Babes to show what they were made of and that’s when they remembered their motto: Don’t show the fear; never show the fear!     Mildred stepped forth and with the eye of an eagle, the strength of a lioness, and the fortitude of an Amazon, she delivered a PERFECT STRIKE! Watch out! Don’t count the Babes out just because they look good.  

    The battle raged. Was there any let-up, slip-up, or throw-up? No, it was bloody battling and hand-to-hand combat until the bitter end, and the Babes were declared victorious.

    The team captain for the Gutter-Girls issued congratulations; sort of creepy like. “We’ll be back next year, if you live that long.”

    After it was all over, the onlookers were stressed as they ran straight to the snack bar for a strong drink – soda, Kool-Aid, water, anything. They were like refugees in the Sahara Desert. Never had they witnessed such a bone-and-guts display of bowling finesse. It was all like a dream. No, like a nightmare.

     All of the news media stormed the Beauteous Babes and asked for the secret of their success. They all agreed. “Looking good.”

     After all, they are Babes.



    Anne B. McKee is a writer and storyteller. Visit her website at www.annemckee.net.