Post by Cass - (Rise Up) on Jul 15, 2016 4:13:07 GMT
"Mom! Mom! Can we get closer to try and get autographs?"
"Sure! Why not? Let's go down there and try and get some autographs!"
"Why 'ello, ma'am. What've we got here? Someone in need of an autograph?"
"I would rather not. Your hands are absolutely filthy."
"Hehe... Sorry about that! Billy... Go... Go get yourself a hot dog or something."
"Okay! Do you want one?!"
"Your mom will be getting one shortly..."
"Who... Who are you exactly?"
"Me? Well, I'm the star of this show, lady. My name is Sly Cooper, and these crabs, or barnacles, or whatever they call themselves thought it would be a good idea to hire me to come out here and try and bring in the fans."
"That doesn't tell me who you are."
"I'm the best thing that professional wrestling has to offer. I'm the Highflying Homerun Hitter, I'm the Beautiful Baseslidder, The Sultan of Swat... Wait, no, not that one... Anyways, I'm Sly Cobb."
"Ty Cobb?"
"NO! NOT TY COBB! SLY COBB!"
"A... Are you related to Ty Cobb?"
"WHY WOULD I BE RELATED TO TY COBB? JUST BECAUSE MY NAME IS COBB?! ARE YOU RELATED TO KELLY RIPA BECAUSE YOU'RE A MIDDLE AGED WHITE WOMAN?! NO!"
"Sorry about that, but it's a very emotional subject! My name is Sly Cobb. Sly! Not Ty! And I'm currently signed to a deal to compete in a lucha wrestling company for their Boring Falcon match... Wait, no, that's not it. Daring Pigeon? Nope... Wait..."
"Soaring Eagle?"
"That's the one! You're not as dumb as your fake blond hair would make you appear to be... Now, let's get to the matters at hand. I see that you have a soon, and I noticed that there was no wedding ring on your finger..."
"Well..."
"... I also noticed that you've been eyeing the beer garden all day. So, how about this. We walk over there, you have the pleasure of buying me a beer, and I'll tell you all about how I'm going to get to home plate tonight. In the morning, you can make me breakfast and I'll leave before your broken home has an effect on me. Deal? Deal!"
Billy smiled the largest smile that Melissa had ever seen. It warmed her heart. It made her smile in return. It had been a long year, and it was only halfway through. Her divorce was finalizing. Her assets were being halved. Then, of course, there was the custody battle of Billy. Sure, she didn't have the most lucrative job, and William being a psychiatrist with his own private practice, it was going to be an uphill battle. But she was going to fight like hell for this.
She looked down at Billy, his beaming smile, his eyes crinkled at the edges, and those huge dimples... Dimples that had inherited from her, not from that cheating asshole William. Billy was pointing down towards the field, down at the front row of seats before the dry grass and the baseball diamond. That was where the players were gathering. She quickly glanced around her, making sure no one else was nearing those seats. They weren't. This ballpark, a small, summer wooden bat league park, was empty. One, it was a town of about ten thousand people, mostly retired, and two, it was hot as all hell.
Melissa nodded to her son. Her son.
"Sure! Why not? Let's go down there and try and get some autographs!"
Billy bounced down the steps, two at a time. It was great seeing him in this mood. Though the divorce was hard on her, Billy didn't seemed phased. He and his father never truly got along, what with William always psycho-analyzing everything that Billy did, even as a ten year old child. But, that was William's thing. He had done that when he and her had first started dating, all the way up until she found him with another woman wrapped around him. As she started packing her things up, with him and his paramour right there in the room, he even shouted his psychiatrist garbage. "Blah, blah, blah, Sigmund Freud. Blah blah blah Carl Jung." It was all garbage. Noise. A tone-setting that she packed her bags to.
She was drawn out of that horrible train of thought as they approached the front row seats, there along the first base line. The beer garden was to her right, further down the right field foul line, and had she been here alone, she would've probably already drank her weight in cheap Bud Light. The players were warming up, getting ready to end the Seventh Inning Stretch. She couldn't help but notice the players out there, in their mid-20s, flexing their muscles and stretching. She stopped herself, feeling a tad flustered, which had nothing to do with the July heat.
The players had noticed her as well... Or, that is, they had noticed Billy standing along the barrier wall, screaming to his local team, wearing a big red lobster on his hat to signify his love for the Larutville Lobsters. They marched over and started talking to him, mentioning something about what position he'd like to play and signing the brand new baseball Melissa had purchased at the souvenir stand for over six bucks. "What a rip-off", she thought, but she kept those thoughts to herself. She didn't want to complain about money, not in front of Billy, and not with their current situation.
Maybe it was her current situation that made her think about what she was missing, or maybe it was the man in the baseball-themed mask making his way over. He caught her eyes, then started elbowing the baseball players out of the way. Disapproving eyes were cast, even a few vulgarities, but the masked man finally made his way over to the wall. He was dressed like a baseball player. The same pin-stripped jersey and pants. But his arms were exposed, as if he had ripped off the sleeves. His shoes were more... Boots, also. And his accent was something like that of a carnival barker.
"Why 'ello, ma'am. What've we got here? Someone in need of an autograph?"
Billy extended out the ball, excitedly. The man in the mask eyed the ball, a disgusted look crossing his face, then shook his head.
"I would rather not. Your hands are absolutely filthy."
Normally, this would be the time when Melissa objected that someone had talked bad about her son... But, maybe it was the fact that his hands were dirt-smeared from where he was playing alongside the fence earlier. Maybe it was because she hadn't had a man talk to her with a husky voice in over a decade - since Billy was born. Either way, she grabbed Billy by the shirt and pushed him back.
"Hehe... Sorry about that! Billy... Go... Go get yourself a hot dog or something."
"Okay! Do you want one?!"
"Your mom will be getting one shortly..."
Melissa could tell that Billy didn't know how to respond to that, so he just shrugged his shoulders and skipped towards the concessions line.
"Who... Who are you exactly?"
"Me? Well, I'm the star of this show, lady. My name is Sly Cooper, and these crabs, or barnacles, or whatever they call themselves thought it would be a good idea to hire me to come out here and try and bring in the fans."
Melissa glanced around and didn't seen anyone but one other group of elderly people, who looked absolutely miserable in this heat.
"That doesn't tell me who you are."
"I'm the best thing that professional wrestling has to offer. I'm the Highflying Homerun Hitter, I'm the Beautiful Baseslidder, The Sultan of Swat... Wait, no, not that one... Anyways, I'm Sly Cobb."
"Ty Cobb?"
"NO! NOT TY COBB! SLY COBB!"
"A... Are you related to Ty Cobb?"
"WHY WOULD I BE RELATED TO TY COBB? JUST BECAUSE MY NAME IS COBB?! ARE YOU RELATED TO KELLY RIPA BECAUSE YOU'RE A MIDDLE AGED WHITE WOMAN?! NO!"
Sly adjusted his jersey in the front, and coughed.
"Sorry about that, but it's a very emotional subject! My name is Sly Cobb. Sly! Not Ty! And I'm currently signed to a deal to compete in a lucha wrestling company for their Boring Falcon match... Wait, no, that's not it. Daring Pigeon? Nope... Wait..."
"Soaring Eagle?"
"That's the one! You're not as dumb as your fake blond hair would make you appear to be... Now, let's get to the matters at hand. I see that you have a soon, and I noticed that there was no wedding ring on your finger..."
"Well..."
"... I also noticed that you've been eyeing the beer garden all day. So, how about this. We walk over there, you have the pleasure of buying me a beer, and I'll tell you all about how I'm going to get to home plate tonight. In the morning, you can make me breakfast and I'll leave before your broken home has an effect on me. Deal? Deal!"