I don't own Monk, or any of the characters in Monk. (I would like to write a show for Tony Bill someday,) but I didn't write or create Monk.
The AMF Broadway Bowling Lanes this Saturday morning hosted a number of birthday parties with groups of small kids in party hats and their parents in one lane, a lone bowler, about 45 and balding practicing his game next to the party, a motorcycle group of five, large men wearing black and leather, and smell like stale beer, in the next lane, a double dating teen-age couple, alternating between taking turns bowling and sitting on each other's laps and kissing, and in the lane next to the double-dating teens, and closest to the door, Adrian Monk, his nurse, Sharona and her son, Benjy, and two of his friends from school, Brandon and Kyle, who are celebrating Benjy's birthday at the bowling alley. The sign at the front of the lane reads "Bowl a Perfect Game and Win $300!" The names of the people who have won are posted in a large banner across the front of the alley.
It's the first time that Adrian Monk ever stepped into a bowling alley, and the shoes present his first hurdle. The threatening skinheads are his next problem, and the upcoming triple shooting would present the next. It's amazing how ineffective Handi-Wipes are at stopping bullets.
"I can't put my feet in those shoes, Sharona," Adrian said. He held up a pair of red, green and blue striped bowling shoes.
"They sprayed them with disinfectant before they handed the shoes to you," Sharona said, "They're fine."
"If they were fine, the man at the counter wouldn't need a can of disinfectant for them, would he?" Adrian asked, still holding the shoes, gingerly, for Sharona's inspection.
"Besides, if you don't put on the shoes, you can't bowl," Sharona said, and folded her arms across her chest, and gave him her best, "I mean it, Adrian" stare.
"OK, that's settled then," Adrian said, and set the shoes, carefully, on the plastic seat.
"What? What's settled?" Sharona asked, and shifted her hands to her hips.
"I won't bowl, wipe, please," Adrian held out his hand for a Handi-Wipe.
"You have to bowl, Adrian, it's a birthday party for Benjy, everyone bowls."
"Can I bowl without wearing the disease infested, ugly shoes?" Adrian asked.
"You can't bowl in socks, Adrian, you'll fall," Benjy said.
Adrian looks down the newly waxed lane where the ten pins are set for the first frame.
"The lane looks cleaner than the shoes. I think I'll risk it," Adrian said, "What do I do?"
"You can't bowl in your socks, Adrian," Brandon said.
"Assuming that I could, what would I do first?" Adrian asked.
"You would pick up a ball like this," Kyle said, and put his two right middle fingers and thumb into his shiny, red, ten pound bowling ball, and used his left hands to balance the ball and show Monk the right way to hold the ball.
"You have to put your fingers in there?" Monk asked.
"How else would you hold the ball?" Sharona asked.
Adrian looked across the alley, down to the little girl's birthday party. He watched as the girl in the pink and lavender jumper and ponytails with the big ball holders approached the foul line with a bowling ball held firmly between her hands. She leaned down, set the ball on the lane just in front of the foul line, and gave the ball a push that set the ball spinning at first, and then rolling towards the pins. A slow, wobbly ball meandered until striking the pin just off the corner of the pyramid at the end of the lane. Her party clapped for her, and the little girl in pigtails and a pink and lavender jumper spun around, smiled and clapped, too. She skipped back to her party waiting in the plastic chairs.
"I'll bowl like that," and he pointed to the birthday girl. Adrian wiped the back of his neck, "She isn't going to leave it like that, is she?" Adrian asked.
"What are you talking about?" Sharona asked.
"That little girl can't leave the pins like that," Adrian said.
"Like what?" Benjy said.
"There's only nine now, they're uneven," Adrian said.
"She gets a second ball and she has another turn during this frame. Maybe she'll knock the rest of them down," Sharona said.
"She only gets two?" Adrian said, "I don't think she's going to make it. Maybe I can help her make them even." Adrian strolled away, in his white tube socks, from his own lane, and bee-lined in the direction of the girl's party.
Sharona ran after Adrian and reasoned, "You can't interrupt their game. You aren't invited to their party."
"But, it's uneven," Adrian said.
The sound of a strike reverberated around the alley, and the lone bowler shouted, "A perfect 300!" he yelled, and danced around the lane like a middle aged man who missed his prom because of too few dancing lessons before the big night. Everyone in the lane clapped and whistled to celebrate the next 300. Sharona stopped and clapped, and missed the fact that Adrian still approached the birthday girl and her uneven pins.
The spiky haired, lanky manager of the bowling alley approached the newest member of the 300 Club to present him with his gold pin and $300.
Two men dressed in all black and wearing ski masks burst into the bowling alley brandishing revolvers and waving them in the air, "This is a stick-up!" one gruff voice yelled.
