The young girl tossed the ball up and smashed it in a serve timed at an incredible one hundred and seventy miles an hour.
“Fault!” the official called. “Love Fifteen.”
“The ball was in,” she protested. “I saw chalk dust.”
The official ignored her protests. “Out. Love Fifteen.”
“You can not be serious!” she yelled.
“Warning, Miss Cazadoras,” he frowned. “Serve, please.”
With a howl of fury she smote him with her racket so hard he was decapitated.
In the stand Giles cleaned his glasses. “Oh dear,” he moaned to Andrew. “This Potential has been Called as an Umpire Slayer.”