Gregory's Game (part 1)

A young man named Gregory was not very good at football. Unfortunately, he also failed to reach any degree of technical prowess with the drums. It was clear after a listless summer of height growth passed that Gregory was not destined for any greatness concerning the limbs. He lacked rhythm, poetry and the gestural flair of emotional drama known to our best footballers. As a goalkeeper, he evinced signs of attention deficit hyperactivity disorder which Dr M. diagnosed as lovesickness. Love, a gorgeous disease, was reason enough for Gregory to make big changes. He had learned, via a futuretube known as the 'internet forum known as reddit', that a new game was on the horizon. It had been around since the Picts had set their eyes to a geometric synchrony in service of sun. And yet it would not take the modern form until the invention of cheap, soft consumer plastics. To play this game required a certain heartiness of lungs. And Gregory, this boy who would bellow at his love, BELLA BELLA, across the sullen hills of Cumbernauld, had lungs aplenty. After consultation with the solar oracle and the cheap malt of his father, he took the Megabus to Glasgow, paid a lifetime of saving pound coins, and flew his ass to California via the red eye.

(to be continued)