Thursday 9 April 2015

Floor Hockey Chips

One night, my younger brother, Mike, invited me to meet him and go see a movie. I met up with him as he got out of his car and was throwing a few things into the trunk. Among them, I noticed a large bag of potato chips.

ME: "What's that? Your dinner?"

MIKE: "Floor hockey chips."

ME: "Huh?"

MIKE: "Once a week, I play floor hockey and the guys and I go for beer, afterward. I keep the chips for then."

ME: "Why don't you just order food at the pub?"

MIKE: "It's not about that. Sometimes I worry that I might be a little over the limit, when we leave."

He explained that once, twenty years previous, he had been stopped by a police road block, blew slightly over the limit and received a roadside suspension. He had to park his car, lock it up, they took his key and he had to walk home, at two in the morning.

MIKE: "It was a long walk and raining and I only had a light jacket. It was miserable."

ME: "I still don't get what's with the chips."

MIKE: "I just couldn't help thinking that if I'd had a bag of chips, it would have been better."

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