The younger puts his fingers into his mouth and coats it thoroughly with copious amounts of saliva. He removes his hand and shows it to a nervous-looking Mark staring up at him with wide puppy eyes, wetted fingers glistening in the poor lighting.

Jackson trails his fingers down to the hole languidly, smile coy as he teasingly circles the rim but never pushes in. And then he does. Mark inevitably stiffens when, without warning, Jackson sticks all three in at one go. The elder's mouth hangs open wordlessly while Jackson continues his intentionally toturously slow ministrations.

Jackson then picks the eleven-pound ball up and steps onto the lane behind the dotted line. He lifts his hand up to chest level and squares his shoulders, expression serious as he looks straight ahead. Taking three steps forward, he allows his dominant hand to swing backwards and release the ball down the oiled lane. His eyes remain glued until... until...

"Strike!" Jackson shrieks when all ten pins at the end of the lane get knocked over. He spins around on his heel and runs over to where Mark had been waiting at the sidelines and s his bottom into the elder's face, wiggling it tauntingly. "I win, I win!"

Mark remains in a state of disbelief, gaze fixated on the flashing red X and cheesy dancing animation. The TV screen switches back to their scoreboard that seems to mock him further with each passing second. 121 vs. 120. Player Wang Ka Ka wins!

He finally snaps out of his psychosis when Jackson winds an arm around his neck and shakes him fervently, sending him flopping from side to side in a B-rate imitation of kelp on the seafloor bed. And then he gets dragged up from his seat and towed towards the snack counter, feeling a pudgy hand already making its way into the back pocket of his jeans for his wallet. "Come on, hyung, you're going to buy me that slice of pizza you owe me for beating you at bowling."