The Bullpen Gospels - Dirk Hayhurst [73]
At game time, I found myself sitting in the makeshift away-team bullpen with Pickles, Rosco, Slappy, and Maddog. The temperature had dropped significantly, forcing us to layer up, going as far as to scavenge batting gloves to use as winter gloves. We sat down the right field line, huddled in a pack like Eskimos.
“We need something to take our minds off this weather. This is miserable.”
“Yeah, we need to get a good conversation going here. Anyone got any good shit to talk about?” Rosco asked.
I thought for a second about some of the things I would talk about in the past dead times like this. I once read this book of superstring theory, black holes, and quantum mechanics—seriously. I thought I needed a crash course in something smart to test how many brain cells baseball had killed.
I thought about bringing up some of the wild topics it covered. Stuff like time travel, alternate dimensions, and gravity wells. But Slappy, a black hole of a different variety, was the first to speak. “Okay, I’ve got one. What if you meet a girl, like the hottest girl you’ve ever met—like a Jessica Simpson, but hotter. And she’s all over you, right?”
“This happens to me all the time,” Maddog said, rubbing his knuckles on his jersey.
“Well, women are only human, Maddog.”
“Anyways, she’s all over you, and she takes you home and you’re messing around.” Slappy started making messing around movements, which I won’t describe right now.
“Right, right. I’m pickin’ up what you’re puttin’ down,” Rosco said.
“She stops before it gets too serious, and tells you she needs to go freshen up. She goes into the bathroom, strips down butt naked, comes back out, and boom—she’s got a penis.”
“What do you mean boom? Like it just appears there?”
“No, she’s had it the whole time.”
“Like she owns one, like a toy?”
“No, it’s hers. It’s on her.”
“So she’s a dude, like a superhot, Jessica Simpsonesque tranny?”
“No, she’s a hermaphrodite. She’s both.”
“She’s both?”
“Yeah. She’s packing both.”
“So she’s the hottest chick that’s also a man I’ve ever made out with.”
“Ever? Do you do this frequently?” I asked.
“Come on dude, I’m being theoretical.”
“Of course, of course. Who am I to stand in the way of science?”
“Yes,” Slappy continued, “she’s a hermo, and she’s ready to go the rest of the way with you. My question is, Do you still do her even though she’s got a penis?”
The boys did not respond immediately. Rather, as if they were in math class and asked to solve for x, their faces shifted to deep thought. “Wow, good question.”
Did I hear that right? Good question? Not, Where do you come up with this stuff? Or what the hell is wrong with you? Or you need to pick higher-quality websites. Or do you think you could just plain stay off the Internet altogether?
“Are we really having this conversation right now?” I asked. “I mean, is this a real-world situation we need to plan for?”
“I’m just trying to spark some conversation.”
“You never know what kind of beef Slappy will bring home,” Maddog said.
“Why is it always me that gets ridiculed?” protested Slappy. Everyone turned and stared at him. “Okay, I know why it’s always me, actually, but it’s not like I’m the only one here. You slept with a married chick in rookie ball, Maddog.”
“I was drunk so it didn’t count,” Maddog replied, giving a wry smile.
“No, no, no, it counts—you can’t just say it—”
“Wait,” Rosco interrupted. “How drunk am I when I’m with this chick?”
Slappy looked at Maddog. “You can’t be so drunk it doesn’t count,” Slappy mocked.
“Yeah, because that would just make this situation too ridiculous,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“Let’s say you have to be stone sober.” The council on hermaphrodite sexual relations all grunted, effectively ratifying the amendment, and the conversation continued.
“I don’t know if I could do it if I’m stone sober.”
“So it’s a no for you, then?”
“Not necessarily.” Rosco went back to the drawing board in his mind. “Hotter than Jessica