I have fleshed out Ham-Bone's background to better account for my choices during char gen.
Don "Ham-Bone" Hardwick has spent much of his thirty-eight years in the dimly-lit, subterranean confines of Garden City Lanes in St. Catharines. Bowling was his first love. Even after he married Janice, Ham-Bone seemed to prefer the smell of stale beer and cigarettes to home-cooked food. When he wasn’t at the alley or one of his part time jobs, Ham-Bone was on tour with the PBA. Professional bowling isn't what it used to be when television stations carried tournaments on Saturday afternoon. No big endorsement deals for Ham-Bone, although his picture does appear on a trading card. He wonders if the people who own that card know he made just $18, 562 that year. He was used to making do, repairing the old so he wouldn’t have to buy new, and relying on friends. Ham-Bone might be poor but he was shrewd and self-reliant.
The Crash found Ham-Bone and Janice, who was then six months pregnant, driving down Interstate 40 in his ’89 Astro Van on their way to a tournament in Memphis. With strange reports on the radio, they stopped at a Motel 6 just outside the city. Then everything fell apart. After seeing a vector run down and savage one of the motel guests, Ham-Bone raided the vending machines, grabbed the pistol he kept in his glove box and barred the door to his room. While Ham-Bone searched vainly for working television and radio stations Janice paced, ate chocolate bars and repeated "Help will come" over and over. Five days passed and no help came. Help never came.
Stuck in this hell-hole a thousand miles away from home with a pregnant and resentful wife, Ham-Bone had to do something. He was a loser, but not a complete asshole. On the sixth day, he ventured out to gather supplies: food, medicine, tools, and prenatal vitamins. Moving quick, he scavenged houses and stores. He surprised himself with how well he adapted to life in the Loss and took special pride in bringing back little luxury items that he thought Janice would like. Guilt drove him. Guilt at leaving Janice to go bowling. Guilt at dragging her here during the Crash. Ham-Bone now took risks to atone for past failings. With the birth of his son Earl, Ham-Bone redoubled his efforts to provide. He brought home diapers and wipes, rattles and stuffed animals, games and baseball mitts. Baby Earl was too small for most of the stuff, but Ham-Bone didn’t care. He wanted his son to have everything before it was too late.
Ham-Bone's fleshy face and thinning hair, make him look like an easy mark. It doesn't help that he often wears his bowling glove and his white jersey with purple splotches, now stained and torn beyond recognition. They are totems, tangible links to the past. But if Ham-Bone hangs onto the past, he thinks mainly of the future. Whatever becomes of him, he must get Janice and Earl out of the Loss and into the Recession.
Last edited September 6, 2016 4:56 am