Disclaimer: This is a joke, so I'm sorry if it falls flat on its face. I hope no one objects to me using their monikers and some inside jokes (memes, as they're called?) This is only part 1, and if you enjoy it I'll write part 2.
Andrew emerged from the cool, damp basement, holding a worn, wooden bat and a tattered ball. He paused at the top of the staircase, and glanced down at his gear. He realized, as I did, that this would not do. I glared at him.
"I'm sorry, DCO. That's all I have. That basement is dark and scary. I spend my days there. It can get lonely. This is all I could find," he pleaded. I wasn't buying it. I crossed my arms over my chest, and shifted my weight on one knee. I tapped my foot--OK, this is something girls do when they are irritated, impatient or disappointed. I was a combination of all three.
"We have to make a good impression. Those douchey MFY have fancy, new uniforms and swanky bats. This is what you give me?" I yelled, pointing in the direction of his sorry excuse for gear. "I'm afraid that you can't--"
Suddenly, a knock at the door. I groaned, and threw my hands wildly in the air. I stalked towards the door, and flung it open. Stacey stood in the doorway. She was holding two clean uniforms, one petite (that's me, damnit!) and one considerably larger. She was already wearing hers.
"Well thanks, Stacey! This is just what we needed. Except... Andrew here decided that junky bats and old baseballs were acceptable." I sighed heavily, and moved out of the doorway so Stacey could come in. She stopped in front of Andrew, who was still frozen at the top of the stairs. He held up the two items, and Stacey brought a finger to her chin.
"Hmm," she began, "well, I have some extra equipment at home. Why don't you use that? Problem solved!" I breathed in, relieved that she wouldn't have to ban Andrew from the team. We set off in search of the others...
Stacey, Andrew, and I reached the home of O'sFan21. From inside, we could hear his loud voice, screaming various obscenities that are too vulgar to be mentioned here.
"What now?" I asked my teammates.
"Undoubtedly, he's yelling at the TV screen. I told him that if he keeps watching the games he records multiple times, he's going to have a heart attack," Andrew answered. I rolled my eyes, knowing full well that it was the truth. I trudged up the front steps, and knocked lightly on the door. Maybe he wouldn't hear the knock until he had calm--
The door flung open, and there stood O'sFan21, his face red and his eyes blazing with anger.
"What the fuck is wrong with Mark Reynolds? Why the fuck does he strike out so much? This is bullshit!" he screamed at the top of his lungs. I backed away from the fountain of saliva that was flowing from his mouth. I rubbed my face as a drop landed squarely on my cheek.
"Well, I can't tell you that much. But it's time. Why aren't you changed?" Stacey said. He shook his head, confused, until he remembered that we had a game today.
"OH SHIT! I'll be right back!" He exclaimed, and ran upstairs. I rolled my eyes. I heard heavy footsteps, and five minutes later, O'sFan21 bounded down the stairs, pushed past me and out the door. "Who's next?"
"Zk is at the airport. He just texted me," Andrew said, looking up from his iPhone.
"I have my car. It's energy efficient," O'sFan21 said eagerly. I nodded, and motioned for Andrew and Stacey to follow. We got into his Prius, and drove to BWI.
We arrived at the airport forty minutes later. Zk was at the baggage claim. We spotted him, and he ran towards us.
"You came all the way for the game? I can't believe you actually did it!" I said, my excitement impossible to conceal. He grinned widely.
"I listened to Sondheim the entire trip," he told me. With that, we delved into a deep debate about what Sondheim's greatest work was, ignoring the rest of the group who clearly had no interest in musicals. We walked slowly back to O'sFan21's Prius, and then realized that we would only be able to fit five people in the car. O'sFan21 cursed under his breath.
"What the fuck will we do now? We have way more people to pick up," he screamed. Any attempt to calm him down was moot.
"Alright, let's go to duck's house and use his pick up truck. Problem solved, right? Don't worry about your Obama sticker, O'sFan21. Or... maybe you should... Besides, Phil will be on his bike," zk proposed. That seemed satisfactory for O'sFan21. And off they went...
That's it for part one. If you enjoy it, I'll write part two, and it will be longer. I guess this is a preview. Feedback is always appreciated.