“Alright Bob, let's stop. Um..What are you doing?”
“Playing tennis with you.”
“This is not tennis, Bob. I don’t know what you think we have been doing for the past fifteen minutes, but we haven't been playing tennis.”
“Frank, what are you talking about!? I love tennis. I've been playing for years. Look don’t I have the tennis shorts on?”
“Yes. Yes you’re wearing very nice tennis shorts. You also have a nice shirt, and very expensive tennis shoes. Additionally you’re wearing a headband.”
“Sweatband, Frank. It's called a sweatband.”
“Right. Do you know what’s odd about that?”
“You’re not sweating! Do you know why you’re not sweating? I’ll tell you Bob. Because you haven’t moved one step! I’m sitting here serving tennis balls to you and if they aren't right next to you don't even try and return them. I not even sure you’ve hit one of my serves to you!”
“We’ll...That’s tennis for you!”
“You’re just not as good as me Frank. It’s no reason to get sore.”
"Not as good as you?! Why do you think we both have these huge sides of the court?"
"So it's harder for you to hit the ball to me! Clearly you're not doing a very good job of that as I'm winning this match."
“Winning this match?! What do you think the score is Bob?”
“WHAT! I haven’t scored! Are you insane!? I’ve been acing serves and you don’t think I've scored? Bob you have to return the ball to me in order to make points! Not that you could with the way you’re holding the racket!”
“What do you mean? Haven’t you ever seen a traditional grip?”
“Look I don’t even care. You want to hold it over your face like that, it’s your choice. You just look like an idiot. I mean you look like we're in a fencing match. Why did you ever tell me you had played before? Why can’t you just be honest with me Bob, you haven’t got a clue what you’re doing.”
“Frank, it’s not my fault you’re not up on the latest tennis trends. Now can we please get back to the game? I’ve almost got you beat!”
“Latest trends!? Got me beat!? BOB! You don’t know the first thing about tennis! ... Bob”
“Do you see all the courts to our left?”
“Do you notice anything strange?”
“They aren’t playing.”
“Right. What are they doing Bob?”
“They all appear to be slack jawed and staring at me.”
“Why do you suppose that is?”
“Bob this is my tennis club. Do you have any idea how much money I spend every month to come out here and play?”
“Plenty. Now I will be embarrassed to even get an orange juice at the snack bar. Do you know why?”
“Because you lost to an amateur?”
“BECAUSE THEY ARE ALL SCARED OF YOU BOB! You’re turning me into a tennis club freak. I will be laughed right out of this club and will have to start going to a different club. It will take me months to live down the humiliation you have caused me in the last fifteen minutes!"
"Wow, not a very friendly bunch are they?"
"No. Bob, will you please, just for my own sanity admit you have never held a tennis racket, let alone played a round, before today?”
“Okay, Frank I'm sorry. I’ve never played tennis before...”
“Thank you. Thank you for being man enough to admit that.”
“...but you should see me at racquetball!”