CASHMAN: I am leaving. I cannot wait any longer on this cold, barren hilltop.
BOONE: No, we must stay.
CASHMAN: He is not coming. The night is as dark as our existence is devoid of meaning.
BOONE: No, we must stay. He is coming, I tell you.
(They stand silently, contemplating eternity.)
CASHMAN: At times, I wonder who we are even waiting for.
BOONE: You know who.
CASHMAN: At times, I am not sure. Is he a second-baseman? Does he play first? Does he lead off? Does he bat third? Do we trade Voit? Do we shop Gleyber? And is all of this merely a waste of time? Is he, right now, talking with the Mets? All of these things, I do not know.
BOONE: When he comes, he will bring answers.
CASHMAN: I am tired of waiting. I need a tall building to rappel down.
(They stand silently for seven minutes, signifying the passage of seven years.)
BOONE: You waited for Ellsbury.
CASHMAN: Do not speak that name!
BOONE: Igawa. Did you forget Igawa?
CASHMAN: Enough!
BOONE: Will we not wait forever on Stanton?
CASHMAN: Your mouth is possessed by demons.
BOONE: What are demons, but truth that has copulated with Joel Sherman?
(They stand silently, pondering the unponderable.)
CASHMAN: The stars mock us, like bullets of reality fired into the garage door of an aging closer's wife.
BOONE: He will come. I am sure.
CASHMAN: If he does not come...
BOONE: He will come.
BOONE: He will come.
CASHMAN: If he does not come...
BOONE: Do not say it!
CASHMAN: If he does not come...
BOONE: HE WILL, I SAY. HE WILL!
CASHMAN: Kyle Schwarber. And one of us will have to tell Michael Kay...
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11 comments:
CASHMAN: The stars mock us, like bullets of reality fired into the garage door of an aging closer's wife.
Genius sir sheer genius
If I wore a cap I would doff it to you
This last fortnight there have been posts that have been both informative and funny and they have really cheered me up so thank you to you all on here.
L.D.
I needed some laughs this morning. This post delivered.
Thank you!
ALL HAIL DUQUE!!!
LOL.
Wow. Very nicely done.
So, I am walking around in the suburbs of Florida, where I have repaired to isolate from the humanity in New York and where I can work on my second book. I liked the first one, but it did not make a dent in the universe. That's okay. It was good practice and, hopefully, people will be able to click on it in Amazon and buy it long after I'm dead.
Anyway, I'm walking the hound and we stop to watch a Florida Southern freight train rumble by at a grade crossing, but ALL I CAN THINK OF are the words "What are demons but truth that has copulated with Joel Sherman?" Truth, people. Can't get it out of my head.
DUQUE! "IL MIGLIOR FABBRO"
This post is why God invented typewriters. Then bought a word processor. Then started a blog.
Genius, plain and simple.
I bow to the Northwest, to the land of snow and the S.I. Newhouse School of Public Communications.
Within the long, dread northeast winter, sandwiched between the dreaded, fog-bound Cortland valley and the hissing, disease-laden broth of Onandaga Lake resides a shining beacon of hope in our hopeless world. Amen.
Within the long, dread northeast winter, sandwiched between the dreaded, fog-bound Cortland valley and the hissing, disease-laden broth of Onandaga Lake resides a shining beacon of hope in our hopeless world. Amen.
BOONE: What are demons, but truth that has copulated with Joel Sherman?
How do you follow that? Wow.
Doug K.
Sheer genius, indeed! We don't call him our Peerless Leader for nothing.
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