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I like to play a basketball game called "Horse" with my Dad. It's the game where you have to imitate each other's shots. If you miss, the penalty is a letter. Five letters spell HORSE. I like to play with my Dad because he has grey hair, failing eyesight, and chronic back pain. I figure I should be able to win pretty easily.
When we play, we talk to each other a lot:
"Dad, you're leaving a trail of pine-scent bug repellent."
"What is it, H-O to H-O-R-S?"
"Dennis Johnson, from the corner."
"Quick. How many times does DJ bounce the ball before he shoots a free-throw?"
"How'd you come up with that answer?"
"You wanted an answer, I gave you an answer."
"It's fifteen. That's how many years he's been in the pro's."
"Okay..A turnaround, from right here."
"You were not there."
"Would I cheat my own son?"
"Old age and treachery will overcome youth and skill, right?"
"Right. This is for the game. I knew I was going to skunk you tonight. I just had a feeling. I could have predicted ..."
"How come you always Acould have predicted' at the end of the game?"
"Just go ahead."
"No pressure. Oww. Seven games to zip."
"H-O-R-S-E. You know, son, I think I'll be beating you at this game'Atill the day I die." n