family game ever since.
The funny thing is, I'm actually pretty bad at it, which is okay by me because it is so much more than just trying to throw a bag into a hole. The social aspect of the game is my favorite part. “Alright, rules of the game.” Asher claps his hands once, then rubs his hands together. “A corn bag in the hole is worth three points. A corn bag resting on the platform is worth one point. Since we are not playing doubles, we will only use one corn hole platform, and pitch from the same direction each time. We will play cancellation scoring. Do you know what that is?”
As if I don’t know what cancellation scoring is. Does he think I’ve been living under a rock? “Duh. It means that if you score six points in a round, and I score nine, only three points are added to my score; your six points cancel out my first six points.”
“Sorry,” he says, glancing away from me, a sly smile creeping onto his face, rubbing the back of his neck. “Anyway. We alternate turns pitching the bag. We’ll alternate who pitches first each round. We play to twenty-one points. Do you agree to these rules?” Asher asks.
“All but one. Instead of alternating who pitches first, I say we follow the official rules, and the person who won the previous round pitches first.”
“Sounds good to me, I guess. But I just have one question.” He pauses for effect. “Do you really know all of the official rules?” he asks, grinning like a cat about to catch the mouse.
“Save your questions for after the game. If you win, that is.”
Jeeze! I don’t know who put a quarter in me, but I feel like I am on fire with the comebacks today! Honestly, I haven’t felt this good in…well, in a very long time.
“Oh I’ll win. Don’t you worry about that. Do you want to rock paper scissors to figure out who pitches first this first round?”
“That’s ok. You pitch first, since it’s your game.”
“Well then, let’s get started!” Asher says, rubbing his hands together. He seems really keen on winning this one. I wonder what kind of questions Asher has in mind to ask me if he wins. A part of me wants to let him win, just to find out. But another part of me is terrified that he’ll win, and he’ll ask questions that I’m not sure I’m willing to answer. I guess all I can do is play my best, and see what happens.
-----
Asher
We seriously have been playing corn hole for almost an hour now. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to play cancellation scoring. I would have had 21 points a long time ago.
“I told you I was terrible at this game. If I could get my bags into the freaking hole, I would have won already!” Becca exclaims. The thing is, though, despite not being able to get her bags actually into the hole, she is excellent at knocking my corn bags off the platform…right along with her own.
However, I can’t complain too much. Becca won’t let me ask her any questions, since that’s what one of us is going to win, but we’ve been having a nice chat while we’ve been playing.
“You’re not terrible. And if you hadn’t noticed, I haven’t won yet either. If you would stop knocking my corn bags off…”
“Like I’m going to let you win so easily,” she spits back, but she has a smile on her face, so I know she’s joking. I think.
I walk over and pick up our corn bags to bring them back to the line we’re pitching from when I hear Becca scream. I whip around, trying to figure out what she’s freaked out about. Pure terror is on her face, but I don’t immediately see anything that would make her so scared.
“What is it Becca? What’s wrong?” But before she can answer me, I hear it. I look down at the ground, and finally spot it. A water snake is slithering towards Becca, and she is frozen where she is standing. “Becca! Move away from it!” But she’s not listening to me. I see the small shovel lying next to the fire pit, the one we use to put sand on top of the hot
The funny thing is, I'm actually pretty bad at it, which is okay by me because it is so much more than just trying to throw a bag into a hole. The social aspect of the game is my favorite part. “Alright, rules of the game.” Asher claps his hands once, then rubs his hands together. “A corn bag in the hole is worth three points. A corn bag resting on the platform is worth one point. Since we are not playing doubles, we will only use one corn hole platform, and pitch from the same direction each time. We will play cancellation scoring. Do you know what that is?”
As if I don’t know what cancellation scoring is. Does he think I’ve been living under a rock? “Duh. It means that if you score six points in a round, and I score nine, only three points are added to my score; your six points cancel out my first six points.”
“Sorry,” he says, glancing away from me, a sly smile creeping onto his face, rubbing the back of his neck. “Anyway. We alternate turns pitching the bag. We’ll alternate who pitches first each round. We play to twenty-one points. Do you agree to these rules?” Asher asks.
“All but one. Instead of alternating who pitches first, I say we follow the official rules, and the person who won the previous round pitches first.”
“Sounds good to me, I guess. But I just have one question.” He pauses for effect. “Do you really know all of the official rules?” he asks, grinning like a cat about to catch the mouse.
“Save your questions for after the game. If you win, that is.”
Jeeze! I don’t know who put a quarter in me, but I feel like I am on fire with the comebacks today! Honestly, I haven’t felt this good in…well, in a very long time.
“Oh I’ll win. Don’t you worry about that. Do you want to rock paper scissors to figure out who pitches first this first round?”
“That’s ok. You pitch first, since it’s your game.”
“Well then, let’s get started!” Asher says, rubbing his hands together. He seems really keen on winning this one. I wonder what kind of questions Asher has in mind to ask me if he wins. A part of me wants to let him win, just to find out. But another part of me is terrified that he’ll win, and he’ll ask questions that I’m not sure I’m willing to answer. I guess all I can do is play my best, and see what happens.
-----
Asher
We seriously have been playing corn hole for almost an hour now. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to play cancellation scoring. I would have had 21 points a long time ago.
“I told you I was terrible at this game. If I could get my bags into the freaking hole, I would have won already!” Becca exclaims. The thing is, though, despite not being able to get her bags actually into the hole, she is excellent at knocking my corn bags off the platform…right along with her own.
However, I can’t complain too much. Becca won’t let me ask her any questions, since that’s what one of us is going to win, but we’ve been having a nice chat while we’ve been playing.
“You’re not terrible. And if you hadn’t noticed, I haven’t won yet either. If you would stop knocking my corn bags off…”
“Like I’m going to let you win so easily,” she spits back, but she has a smile on her face, so I know she’s joking. I think.
I walk over and pick up our corn bags to bring them back to the line we’re pitching from when I hear Becca scream. I whip around, trying to figure out what she’s freaked out about. Pure terror is on her face, but I don’t immediately see anything that would make her so scared.
“What is it Becca? What’s wrong?” But before she can answer me, I hear it. I look down at the ground, and finally spot it. A water snake is slithering towards Becca, and she is frozen where she is standing. “Becca! Move away from it!” But she’s not listening to me. I see the small shovel lying next to the fire pit, the one we use to put sand on top of the hot
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