RUSS:.

I'll tell you when you get there.

DAVE:.

You'll tell me whut?

RUSS:.

Just go to the f.u.c.king field, r.e.t.a.r.d.

DAVE:.

I'm wastd.

RUSS:.

Me too. Tripping, rolling, high, drunk. Bring shovels. Got a chainsaw?

DAVE:.

Why you nede a chainsaw?

RUSS:.

Do you have one?

DAVE:.

A chainsaw?

RUSS:.

Yes. f.u.c.k. A f.u.c.king chainsaw. Do you have one?

DAVE:.

Yep.

RUSS:.

Great. Bring it too.

DAVE:.

And shovels?

RUSS:.

A chainsaw and shovels. Yes. Bring them. Holy f.u.c.king f.u.c.k. I feel so much dumber now than I felt a few minutes ago. No more questions. See you there.

Russ put his phone back in his pocket and glared at Dwayne and Tommy. "That was way tougher than it needed to be," he stated. Moments later, the gang arrived at the ballpark.

"Pull around to the side, Uzi," Dwayne instructed. "Try and park behind the trees. Stay in the shadows as much as possible. Russ, hand me that Taser you lifted from the guard. Somebody is still thumping around in the trunk."

Uzi pulled the limo along the side of Jenny Field, behind a section of trees and bushes. He turned the lights off so that they might remain undetectable to any pa.s.sersby. Then he popped the trunk.

Dwayne hopped out quickly, before the others.

"Oh, thank G.o.d! Someone's coming to save me! I'm hurt bad! I need a-"

The next sound Russ and Tommy heard was the TZZZZZZT! from the Taser, followed by a Tink! Tink! Tink! from the tire iron.

"I'm pretty sure that did the trick, boys," Dwayne called out. "I believe Tiffany Blaine has finally shut the h.e.l.l up."

Seconds later, Dave the umpire came blazing into the parking lot on his motorcycle. He wore only boxer shorts, a tank top, and flip-flops. A large burlap bag holding shovels and a bulging chainsaw hung across his back.

Dave spied Uzi right away and begun sizing him up. "Who's the f.u.c.kin' Chinaman?"

"Relax, Dave, he's with us," Dwayne a.s.sured him. "He's cool."

"Dude, do you have a b.o.n.e.r?" Uzi asked him. Dave looked down. He hadn't noticed it, but he did, in fact, have an erection. "Yeah, well, you try getting a 75 MPH breeze whistling on your junk, with a blown suspension," Dave said without an ounce of shame.

Dave pulled the bag off his back and set it on the ground. Russ took the opportunity to hold a small vial up to his nose and snort. He then pa.s.sed it to Uzi. Uzi snorted, then pa.s.sed it to Dave. Dave snorted. His eyes teared up. He slapped himself, then looked over at Dwayne.

"So what's up tonight, boss?" Dave asked Dwayne.

Dwayne motioned for Dave to take a peek inside the trunk. He did.

"You guys f.u.c.kin' party, boss," Dave said with admiration. "I'm gonna go grab a wheelbarrow. The softest dirt is at the bases on the infield. We'll use the chainsaw to get their arms and legs off so the holes don't have to be as big."

"Cool," Dwayne replied. "Line 'em up on the bottom row of the bleachers, and we'll figure out what bases these f.u.c.kers are playing tonight."

In no time at all, Dave and Uzi loaded the bodies onto the wheelbarrow and dropped them off, one by one, at the bleachers as Dwayne instructed.

Dwayne stood at home plate, looking out over the field. He held a baseball bat in one hand and a chainsaw in the other. He envisioned the playoffs, fantasized about the championship win. He imagined the roar of the crowd as Alex struck out batter after batter, hitting line drives into the outfield wall, maybe even sending one or two b.a.l.l.s over the wall.

It was close now. It was so close. The people who had gotten in his way in life and in the game he loved were now being buried on the field where he would bring Alex the glory he'd been due. They were the sacrificial lambs being offered up to the baseball G.o.ds. They were the fecal matter in the fertilizer that would fly from the cleats of those who honored the baseball G.o.ds as they rounded the bases.

"Dwayne?" Dave called out, bringing him back to earth. "You ready to get started, boss?"