A return to the kicking of my ass

Kevin occasionally invites me to tennis with him, primarily because my impudent serve amuses him and because he can squash the rest of my game like a bug. He is 20 years my junior and at least 12 times my size, having a wingspan like a seagoing albatross. He stands dead center and can reach everywhere on the court, taking great pleasure in running my agèd corpse all over until I droop and wheeze like some ancient, graying schnauzer. And then he laughs.

But it's hot and rainy, so Kevin informed me that he has now taken membership in an indoor tennis facility, the better to study my wheezings and thrashings in its unforgiving fluorescent glare.



It's a curious canvas half-egg, draped with plastic walls and ghostly white netting.



And of course Kevin beat me like a gong once again. However, my serve was VERY impudent and he was able to run me around less than usual. Perhaps my bones are growing back again. Next, the muscles!