me encantan los potros enojados

everything drowns out. the music, the other people, the multiple beers you have in you. the world fades to just a faint glimmer in the background.
your partner hits the white plastic sphere. the only thing you hear is wood paddle on plastic ball.
doink
you watch it arc over the table. the opponent begins his swing. already, you're aware that this is it. your focus is so intense you can actually see the collision and the deformation of the ball as the opponent returns the volley.
doink
you watch the rainbow of white as it makes its parabola course towards the spot on the table you mapped out before you were born.
doink
your swing is already half way before you realize that you're even moving your body at all. you connect.
doink
you feel the hit course through your body. you don't even have to look anymore. you've known it was dead on target before God did. the ball arcs, your neck hairs stand up, your heart swells.
splash
nothing but beer.
a triumphiant yawp escapes your mouth and the rest of the world returns to focus. but for that eternity--that second--you were master of all you survey, and it was all good.
that's why i love playing beer pong.