"First off, I want to welcome the listeners who decided to tune in for our Wednesday night game of the week between the Brooklyn Neophytes and the Hannibal Hammers, being played in the always lovely yet completed desolate Badger Field, complete with it's very own badge swaying on the flagpole. As I mentioned earlier in the broadcast, the Neophytes are staggering along through a super-ugly twelve game losing streak, and so far, this game is shaping up to be their baker's dozen in a row. Neophyte pitcher Billy Bellingham has just finished his warm ups, so I turn it over to my erstwhile colleague Hank Coulter. Hank?"
"Thanks Nick. It seems like Billy is gonna be the sacrificial goat tonight, with his team trailing the visiting Hammers fifteen zip. For the top of third, he'll be facing the Hammer's eight through one, and boy let me tell you, they got some serious bruisers. Let's hope he can find that old black magic that has so far eluded him during this record losing streak, and in fact, has been the key contributing factor the Neophytes lack of positive reinforcement. What say you Nick?"
"I say that there's a conspiracy, or at the very least, a collusion amongst the league that has so far gotten Billy acting like a little league pitcher."
"Right you are Nick, right you are. Anyways, Billy looks in, shakes off the catcher a couple of times, finally gets one he likes, gets set and here's the windup and the pitch. Oh Good Lord, he's just uncorked a lollipop to the backstop!"
'Time!' says Markie as he slowly walks the ball back to Billy. Billy steps off the mound to meet him and holds out his glove. Markie drops the ball and says, "Problem focusing?'
'You know, no one is going to do what you want them to do. They're on to your little façade, and there's no way in hell that they're gonna put anymore players on the d.l. So please, man up, cowboy up, suck it up, get down on your knees and blow that baseball, whatever it is you need to do to snap out of this funk, 'cause you know this is it. They ain't gonan save yor sorry ass tonight unless do something. Got it?'
'Fuck you,' says Billy as he returns to the mound.
Markie shakes his head and slowly trudges back to the plate. Squatting, he throws a handful of dirt in the air, pounds his glove and sighs.
"So Nick, think that little chat Markie had with Billy will work?"
"I don't think so Hank. Anyways, Billy looks in, nods, and arrives at the set position. He seems to be taking an awfully long time to throw the ball, and I think, yes...he steps off the rubber. He's grabbed the resin bag, shakes it thoroughly, and throws it to the ground. Now he's stepping back on the rubber, gets to the set position, and here's the pitch. No, wait! The batter steps out of the box and calls time, and the umpire calls "no pitch!" Oh bad luck for Billy, as he finally got a pitch over the plate and it gets waved off."
"What a shame indeed, Nick! It looks like old Billy goat is absolutely livid. Maybe, just maybe, this was the catalyst need to jumpstart his game. Looks like the catcher is calling time again. He starts his slow walk towards the mound, but wait, it looks like he's detouring towards the dugout."
'What's up with Billy?'
'Off hand, I say he's about to go apeshit.'
'Are you sure?'
'Am I sure? About as sure as your fantasy of porking the owner's trophy wife not coming true.'
'Hey, watch your mouth!'
Markie walks over to the newbie and pokes him hard in the chest with his mask. The newbie crumples to the ground, spits up a geyser of blood and passes out. Satisfied, Markie takes his leave and waits for the inevitable.
"Hank, it looks like Billy is down with his tantrum."
"Right you are, Nick. Billy steps on the rubber, here's the windup and the pitch...Oh My God!!! Did you see that Nick? Nick? Where are you Nick? Holy cow ships, Nick, what is that horrendous smell in the booth?! And what is that brown stuff oozing down your shirt. Oh My God Nick! Look on the field! It's...it's...a geyser of...MANWHICHES!!!! I think I'm gonna...."
As the sound of breaking glass, a stomach leaving someone's body and horrific screams overloads the airwaves, an authoritative voice briefly interrupts the din., "We'll return you to the game as soon as order is restored, or when enough body parts are found to create a few good players, whichever comes first. In the meantime, here's a sneak peek at our upcoming special, 'The Best Screams From The Best Low Budget Horror Movies: The Eighties' Enjoy!"
If you find this story interesting, please give some thought to checking out my short story trilogy Broken Promises, available at Smashwords.
(c) by G.B. Miller. All Rights Reserved