Take Your Cue
Tam chalked his cue tip, and then took aim. The cue ball struck the red cleanly and then veered off towards the cushion. The red ball rolled almost directly to the pocket, hesitated on the edge, and then seemed to deliberately bounce itself out of the corner.
Tam glared. "Keep this up," he told them, his voice as hard and final as the click of handcuffs closing around wrists, "and I'll send you off to the piano factory, to be cut up for keys."
The snooker balls quivered as one.
Tam re-chalked his cue and tried another shot. This time, the ball went in.
