Friday, August 1, 2008
The Day After Tomorrow.
(JASON KENDALL emerges from pile of ash)
KENDALL: Holy shit. That was fucking intense. I can't believe I lived through a direct nuclear strike. I guess it helps that my skeleton is made of adamantium. I better look for survivors.
(Walks around the wreckage of Miller Park.)
COREY HART: Uhhh...owwww...
KENDALL: Corey Hart, are you alright?
COREY HART: I...I think I'm OK. I was down in the clubhouse when the bomb hit, so my skin didn't melt off. But I think I've got fallout sickness. Better let me lay here like a worthless turd for two days.
KENDALL: Makes sense. Have you seen anyone else?
COREY HART: I think ... I think that's Prince and CC over there.
KENDALL: I think you're right. Prince! CC! Are you guys OK? Wait...are you guys eating?
PRINCE: (Wolfs down an entire bag of Munchos in one movement) We good. (Holds up finger, in classic "give me a minute, I've got some shit in my mouth that I'm still chewing, and I don't want to be rude and spit Muncho shrapnel all over you") Our bodies are so full of synthetic preservatives from all the Tootsie Pops, Snickers, Twinkies, Ho-hos, Sixlets, Gobstoppers, Airheads, Spree, Nutter Butters, Reese's cups, York peppermint patties, Laffy Taffy, Suzy Q's, and Ding Dongs that we're pretty much impervious to a nuclear attack.
CC: Want a Roll-O?
KENDALL: I'm alright, thanks, CC.
CC: Want a Crunch bar?
KENDALL: No, I'm alright.
CC: How 'bout a Twix? Mr. Goodbar? Kit Kat? Krackel?
KENDALL: No, seriously, CC. I'm alright.
CC: Fuck, dawg. Won't you even have a Mentos?
KENDALL: Fine, one Mentos. But I have to keep looking for survivors.
PRINCE: If it's cool with you, we're going down where the clubhouse used to be to see if our hot tub full of Skittles made it through.
KENDALL: OK, guys, be safe out there. We haven't been able to confirm that the Cubs are gone yet.
(KENDALL walks to where the infield used to be.)
KENDALL: Hello? Anybody alive over here?
RICKIE WEEKS: Hey, Jason.
KENDALL: Oh, hey, Rickie Weeks. Are you OK?
RICKIE WEEKS: Yeah, I'm OK.
KENDALL: Oh. Really? You're not hurt at all?
RICKIE WEEKS: No, I think I'm good.
KENDALL: Ain't that some shit. ... Wait, hold on. You've got something on your back. Turn around.
RICKIE WEEKS: Oh, really? Shit. What is it?
KENDALL: (Picks up shattered piece of bat) Just hold still. Let me...just... (Repeatedly stabs Rickie Weeks, because he is a fucking fuckstick who can't do a fucking thing well and is inexplicably allowed to keep fucking playing)
RICKIE WEEKS: (Dies)
KENDALL: Oh, no! Rickie Weeks! No! Curse you, Cubs! I will avenge you, Rickie Weeks! (Looks around, makes sure there are no witnesses who need a "memory adjustment") Sweet.
(KENDALL walks over by the dugout)
KENDALL: Hey, is anyone here?
NED YOST: (Crawls from under the charred corpse of Ted Simmons) I'm here, Jason.
KENDALL: Skip! Are you alright?
NED YOST: Yeah, I'm fine. Being a good leader, as I am, I hid under Simmons when I saw the bomb coming. Sure, most of my team was incinerated, and the rest have radiation poisoning, but at least I'm alright!
NED YOST: Hey, have you seen Rickie? We need him to lead off tonight.
KENDALL: (Silently decides whether to kill Ned Yost, decides he has enough blood on his hands for one day) No. Haven't seen him. Let me know if you do.