Base Ball Dads

by Matthew Hiley

  Chip slid down to his knees, broken glass cutting into his throat as he tried to hold himself upright.

  Dwayne reached over Chip, through the window and into the Caddy, and felt around for the lever that popped the trunk open. He found it, pulled it, and walked to the rear of the vehicle, where he retrieved the tire iron used to change flat tires.

  He walked up behind Chip, wielding the tire iron. Chip turned around just in time to see Dwayne raise it up high.

  “Please, Dwayne, I—” Chip started to say, but it was too late.

  Dwayne swung the tire iron mightily, caving in Chip’s skull, sending chunks of his face in all directions.

  When Dwayne finished, he turned to face the others. His chest was heaving. His face was drenched with blood. His shirt hung open, almost all the way off on one side. He staggered, limping, gripping the bloody tire iron tightly.

  He walked to where each of the other downed socialites lay and swung brutally at each of their heads, one by one, until he felt certain they were all dead.

  The tire iron clanked to the ground as he swayed over the last of them. He fished around in his pocket and pulled out a joint. He felt around his other pockets, searching for something to light it with.

  Estelle stepped forward with a lighter and held it with her hand blocking the flame from the wind so that Dwayne could light his doob. She picked up the tire iron, walked over to the garage door, and slid it through the handle so that no one from the ballroom could enter the parking garage.

  Everyone else stood in stunned silence, watching Dwayne. He walked, wobbling the whole way, over to where his coat had been thrown and picked it up. He reached inside and pulled out his phone, punching in a few numbers. “Uzi?” he said. “It’s Dwayne. How many bodies can you fit in that trunk?”

  “Six, sir,” Uzi replied.

  “Okay then, I’ve got five. Meet me in the parking garage around back. Pronto. Your tip just got bigger.”

  43.

  The limo sounded like a freight train when it headed down the parking garage drive. The tires were like nails on a chalkboard. Uzi stopped the vehicle abruptly, the front bumper just inches from Dwayne’s knees. Dwayne didn’t budge; he just looked at Uzi through the windshield, giving him a subtle nod with his chin.

  Uzi opened the limo’s trunk. Tommy, Russ, and Dwayne jumped into action, carrying the five bodies to the trunk and stacking them inside. After Chip Conner, Ed Snyder, Reese Pepper, Linda Honeycut, and Tiffany Blaine were packed into the trunk, Uzi instructed everyone to get into the passenger cabin.

  “Hang on,” Dwayne said to Uzi as the others climbed aboard.

  He ran over and picked up Chip’s eyeball, then grabbed the tire iron that was securing the door handles. He threw them both in the trunk and closed it. Uzi hit the gas as soon as Dwayne dove in.

  “Inside the cabinet under the bar area, you’ll find paper towels, water bottles, and a couple of trash bags,” Uzi spoke into the rearview mirror. “Get yourselves cleaned up, and put the towels in the trash bags when you’re done.”

  Estelle sat on Dwayne’s lap, and Uzi found a dark place to park. She dabbed Dwayne’s swollen face with wet towels, wiping away the blood and putting pressure on his cuts.

  “My hero,” she whispered.

  Dwayne was the only living passenger with multiple injuries. Estelle removed what was left of his shirt and threw it into the trash bag. Tommy’s eye had a small cut and was swollen. He had a fair amount of blood on his shoe from kicking Reese, but otherwise he looked decent. Russ was shirtless and sporting a necktie around his forehead. He had put on sunglasses when he got in the limo, and now looked like a hairy, overweight Rambo.

  Estelle and Kelly had only a small amount of blood spatter on their clothing. They had barely broken a sweat.

  “We’ve gotta go back for Steve and Judith,” Dwayne stated to his fellow soldiers.

  “And Jade,” Russ added.

  “Kelly and I need to go back to the ballroom to get our purses,” Estelle said. “But you and Russ don’t even have shirts. That’s the kind of thing people notice, sweetie.”

  “I’ve got a couple of t-shirts up here,” Uzi said. “I’m not saying they won’t be tight, but if you throw your jackets over them maybe no one will notice. I mean, they’ll think you dress pretty stupid, but that’s probably nothing new for you, Russ.”

  Russ grabbed a bottle of Scotch and took several pulls from it, then passed it to Kelly, who did the same. The bottle continued to make rotations until it was empty.

  “Fried catfish and chewing tobacco, man,” Russ mumbled.

  “That’s what I’m talking about, Russ,” Tommy replied.

  “I mean, Simon and fucking Garfunkel, bro,” Russ continued. “Fucking Garfunkel. On the grassy knoll. Like a bridge over Dealey Plaza.”

  “He was the shooter, no doubt,” Dwayne added in a consoling tone. “Glad the acid is working out for you, man. Now … let’s get out there and finish this fucking party.”

  Uzi tossed a couple of t-shirts into the back of the limo. Russ put on the lime green one that had the word “KRUNK!” in bold black letters. His hairy stomach hung out the bottom. Dwayne chose the bright blue shirt with a picture of a DJ and turntables on it that said “Back That Ass Up!” The t-shirt was so tight it nearly strangled him. They both looked only slightly more presentable once they put their jackets on.

  “Let’s roll!” Dwayne called out to Uzi.

  For the second time that night, the limo came blazing full-speed to the valet stand and popped the curb. The battle-hardened crew exited the vehicle and made their return to the ballroom.

  Dwayne and Estelle led the pack. They walked like they owned the place, almost strutting. When they reached the entrance, Estelle held Dwayne’s tattered hand and kissed his bruised cheek. She placed Russ’s gold aviator sunglasses over Dwayne’s swollen eyes.

  “We need to be quick here,” Tommy instructed. “Let’s not draw any unnecessary attention to ourselves. We’ll just grab—oh, Jesus—”

  Tommy’s advice was interrupted by a commotion that came from the dance floor.

  The band was playing Def Leppard’s “Pour Some Sugar on Me.” Steve was swinging his pants over his head, leaving his sagging tighty-whiteys exposed, while Jade emptied a bottle of champagne all over him. Judith stood behind him, slapping his wet ass to the beat. Jade’s dress was completely drenched and extremely transparent. A large circle of guests had formed around the three of them, clapping, both entertained and appalled.

  Russ sprinted to the dance floor, sliding up to them on his knees while playing air guitar. The crowd went wild.

  “I think we’re going to need a Plan B,” Kelly said to Tommy. “I’m not sure, but I think we’ve attracted attention.”

  Pastor Jim came rushing to Dwayne’s table in a huff. His wife, Janice, was in tow.

  “I can’t believe what I’m seeing, Dwayne,” the pastor condescendingly stated. “You can clearly see that young woman’s breasts. And Mr. Winwood’s underwear has fallen off twice now. This has gone on long enough. They are your guests, and you need to get them out of here.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Dwayne shot back. “This place sucked before we got here.”

  “So you’re not going to do anything about this?” the pastor continued.

  “Hell no, man. We fuckin’ rule!” Dwayne grinned.

  The pastor and his wife took off to the front desk. Seconds later, two security guards approached Russ, Steve, Jade, and Judith on the dance floor. Russ appeared to give them some difficulty at first, and then acquiesced to their requests and allowed the guards to escort them all back to Dwayne’s table.

  After the guards left, Russ leaned over to Dwayne and Tommy and opened his jacket. “Check it out, man. I got his Taser gun when he wasn’t looking.”

  Dwayne and Tommy nodded their heads, impressed.

  With the dinner and dessert plates cleared away, it was time for the main event—it was time for the auction t
o begin. The band faded their song and then played a short fanfare, a cue for the chairman of “Helping Hands for the Homeless” to take the stage. The chairman read from a long list, intending to recognize and thank every socialite on the large gala committee.

  “This is a good time for us to leave,” Tommy said.

  The Jedi Alliance and their wives began to gather their things. They slammed their drinks and stood to leave, when one of the exotic animals up for auction caught Russ’s eye.

  “How much for the Wookie?” Russ shouted, interrupting the chairman’s speech.

  Everyone in attendance was silent, staring at the short fat guy in the “KRUNK” t-shirt with his belly hanging out.

  “I’m sorry, sir, we haven’t begun the auction.”

  “The Wookie,” Russ shouted again. “I’m leaving, and the Wookie is coming with me. How much?”

  The chairman looked over at the auction items.

  “Are you referring to the orangutan, sir?”

  “Orangutan, Wookie, what-the-fuck-ever, man. I gotta roll. How much?”

  The chairman shrugged, looking around, hoping someone would step in. No one did.

  “Fine. Fifty thousand dollars for the Wookie. Anyone else?” Russ yelled, holding a bidder badge in the air as a challenge to the other guests in the room.

  No one budged.

  “SOLD! To the guy who kicks so much ass he has his own Wookie!” Russ said loudly, pulling out his checkbook and stroking a check for the full amount.

  Russ stumbled between the ballroom tables and struggled as he climbed up onto the stage. He licked the back of the check and slapped it onto the chairman’s forehead, where it stuck.

  Russ jumped back off the stage and walked over to the orangutan cage. Everyone in the ballroom let out a collective gasp when Russ opened it and reached his hand inside. The orangutan accepted Russ’s hand, and the two hairy friends walked through the crowd to the front door, where the baseball dads and their ladies waited.

  As they neared the waiting limo outside, Russ leaned over to the orangutan.

  “Hey, check this out,” he whispered. Russ pulled out the Taser gun and showed it to the orangutan. The orangutan reached over and grabbed it, pointed it in front of him, and pulled the trigger. The prongs carrying thousands of volts of electricity shot out instantly, hitting Judith right between the shoulder blades. She dropped to the ground, convulsing. The orangutan began squealing with what Russ could only assume was laughter, causing Russ to laugh with him.

  “Jesus Christ, Russ!” Steve yelled. “Not cool!”

  Russ pointed at the orangutan and smiled, absolving himself of any responsibility. Steve and Dwayne frowned at Russ, walked to both sides of Judith, picked her up, and tossed her into the limo. The Jedi Alliance, now complete with their Wookie, finally made their escape.

  “To Jenny Field, Uzi,” Dwayne ordered.

  44.

  Uzi drove carefully for the first time that evening. Judith had been so hammered from hard liquor and ecstasy that, when she regained consciousness, she had no idea she’d even been shot with a Taser. Everyone was laughing their asses off watching Russ try to teach the orangutan how to smoke weed. Dwayne removed his sunglasses to wipe a tear from his eye, exposing his severely battered eyes.

  “Jesus, Dwayne, what happened to you?” Steve asked.

  “Oh, don’t worry about it, bro,” Dwayne replied. He’d forgotten that Steve and Judith were unaware of the slaughter that had taken place in the parking garage. Dwayne suddenly thought that it would be a good idea if Steve and Judith were dropped off at their house before heading to the ballpark. He didn’t know how Judith would react, and Steve had almost cracked a couple of times already.

  A look of concern swept over Steve’s face. He was starting to get the idea that he was missing something. Something seemed wrong. “And what happened to your face, Tommy?” There was panic in Steve’s voice. “Why did you guys change clothes?”

  “Here you go, buddy,” Russ said to Steve, holding a pill bottle out. “Have a little more ecstasy.”

  “What do you mean, more ecstasy?”

  “Oh, nothing, just a figure of—”

  Before Russ could finish his sentence, the orangutan snatched the pill bottle from Russ and dumped the remaining tablets into his prominent ape mouth. He tossed the bottle out the sunroof, then looked at Russ and smiled.

  “Oh, fuck,” Russ said.

  “Did that monkey just take ecstasy, Russ?” Steve demanded.

  “It’s a Wookie, Steve,” Russ replied.

  “Did that Wookie just take ecstasy, Russ?”

  “Yes.”

  “How much?”

  “A lot.”

  “Is he going to die?”

  “I think we have to start considering that possibility.”

  “Oh, Jesus.”

  “I know,” Russ said. “I was really starting to like him.”

  Steve was sweating and frantic, about to fully lose his shit.

  And then it got worse.

  WHAM! WHAM! WHAM!

  “Oh god! Where the fuck am I? Somebody please let me out of here!”

  The unexpected noise coming from the trunk gave everyone a jolt, especially the orangutan, which shot straight up and flew out of the sunroof. All passengers turned at once to look out the rear window, where they saw the orangutan do several somersaults in the road behind them, jump up, and look around, then haul ass over the guardrail and into the woods.

  “How fast are we going, Uzi?” Russ called out to the front.

  “Seventy-one.”

  “Jesus, that little guy is tough,” Tommy remarked.

  “Yeah, he’s in for a rough night though,” Dwayne surmised.

  “Be strong, kid,” Russ said solemnly.

  Steve pulled himself close to Dwayne. “Do you want to tell me what the hell is going on?”

  “No, not really. I’d prefer we just dropped you and Judith off.”

  “Who’s screaming in the trunk, Dwayne?” Steve demanded.

  “I can’t answer that, Steve.”

  “Why not, goddammit?”

  “Because I’m not sure.”

  “Why aren’t you sure?”

  “Because there are five possibilities.”

  “What do you mean? How could there be …”

  Steve stopped quizzing Dwayne and slid back in his seat. He didn’t want to hear anymore. Judith was still giggling, rubbing the felt ceiling, oblivious. The screaming from the trunk hadn’t fazed her.

  “Oh god! Help! I’m bleeding! Get me out of here!”

  “Uzi, please turn up the music. Loud,” Steve hollered. “And please drop Judith and I off ASAP.”

  “Relax, brother, everything is fine,” Dwayne slurred.

  “This shit’s gone too far, man,” Steve replied to his friend and hero. Steve suddenly felt stone-cold sober and wondered how he had become seduced by both Dwayne and the Jedi outlook. He felt betrayed by both. “This was just supposed to be about baseball.”

  “It still is, man. It still is.”

  45.

  Uzi dropped Steve and Judith off, and took Kelly, Jade, and Estelle home as well. Jade managed to convince Kelly that she couldn’t be alone, so Kelly allowed her to stay at her place until the guys finished up at Jenny Field.

  Dwayne took control. He told Russ to text Dave so that Dave could meet them at the ballpark.

  RUSS:

  Meet me at Jenny Field ASAP.

  DAVE:

  Why?

  RUSS:

  I’ll tell you when you get there.

  DAVE:

  You’ll tell me whut?

  RUSS:

  Just go to the fucking field, retard.

  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?

  D
AVE:

  A chainsaw?

  RUSS:

  Yes. Fuck. A fucking chainsaw. Do you have one?

  DAVE:

  Yep.

  RUSS:

  Great. Bring it too.

  DAVE:

  And shovels?

  RUSS:

  A chainsaw and shovels. Yes. Bring them. Holy fucking fuck. 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 passersby. Then he popped the trunk.

  Dwayne hopped out quickly, before the others.

  “Oh, thank god! 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 hell 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 fuckin’ Chinaman?”

  “Relax, Dave, he’s with us,” Dwayne assured him. “He’s cool.”

  “Dude, do you have a boner?” 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.