 |
| Ball in garage - circa 2003 |
“Get the softball. Where’s the softball? Let’s go hit the softball … I’ve heard every insult for the last 15 years.” The slightly warped ball said using Ballese-to-English translation technology.
“Thanks to the family dog, my stitching has been loosened.” The ball continued, the start of something like a mouth forming at its seams. “One day, my flight will be altered by wind resistance and BLAM! I’ll tick off a glove and bash someone right in the goddamned face … Then we’ll see who’s soft.”
The ball, a normal-looking 12-inch Dudley Thunder SY, has brought great joy to the family over the years. Its owners would be quite surprised to learn of the hostility it harbors.
“The other day he called me yellow.” The ball said. “That was the last straw.”
