You feel pretty nervous the first night that you have decided to bust out and make a name for yourself. In the past three weeks you have lived pool table. You play all day, you sleep on it; hell, you even fuck it. You meditate in the center of the table for one hour each morning. So you take your zen crafted mystic pool stick with you to a club with a rep. You see three people you might want to challenge to establish a name for yourself:
You are suddenly overcome with fear, and decide you can't win. Have to try something else. You look around, sweat pouring down your face...
Billiard skills that your dad payed for by the Atheist Shrine.