Cremate

[Person_Random 4,991]

Cremate

 

 

 

I will bet against the Yankees for the rest of my entire life.  They’ve won too much. They always get lucky. Still being able to conjure up a miracle play, whether a lucky homerun from the weakest batters or a pinch-hit, to save the day.

 

 

 

My friend wagers me $5000 for the Yankees to win the game, and I root for the Red Sox.  It’s been a deadlock, 0-0, for 10 straight innings. Heading into the 11th and 12th innings, I grow tired of watching the Sox hit once or twice but never be able to deliver.  Finally, they score a run in the top of the 13th, and cheers erupt outside the tavern. However, another run would be better, but all the fans are still joyous.

 

 

 

The next half of the inning starts, a person gets walked, and then a pinstriped player steps up to the plate, takes two practice swings.  The first pitch comes. A blasted swing from a weak batter makes us all scream in fright. Thankfully, the ball goes out last minute, and we all breathe.  He passes over three and whiffs at two. Full count. One more pitch and we could win.

 

 

 

But no.  Nothing goes my way.  The crack of the bat sends the ball flying past the infield, threatening to pass over to the cheering crowd.  A frantic outfielder runs up, and leaps make it all the way up to the fence, ball in the glove. He stays on the top for a moment, teetering and wobbling.

 

 

 

Then falls.

 

 

 

They won, 2-1.

 

 

 

---

 

 

 

Soon enough, my cell phone rings.  It’s my friend from the Yankees Fanclub Bar on the other side of the town.  I ignore, but I know: I have 24 hours to get the money to him. He will be expecting the cash fast.  Grumbling, I leave and drive to the bank and withdraw the last bit of my life savings. I am going bankrupt.  But who cares?

 

 

 

I enter my broken-down car and fire up its worn engines, shifting into reverse and then forward acceleration.  Driving down the roads, I speed past the speed limits, avoid all police and authorities.

 

 

 

An extensive river connects the Yankees Fanclub to the Red Sox Tavern.  All I need to do is cross the bridge, the annoying, creaky, old wooden drawbridge connecting the two places together.  It’s a pretty dumb one-and-a-half lane bridge that favours old sailboats over the passing traffic. Fortunately, no boats come, but one car starts steadily across the bridge.  Yet I want to get across first.

 

 

 

We’re both in a hurry.  But there is only room for one.  The two of us roll down our windows, screaming curses at each other.  He jams the gas pedal; so do I. But when we are about to collide, he swerves to meet me.

 

 

 

“Bring it on!” I yell and ram my car into his.  Our tires eke out a panicked squeal as we skid left and right, the smell of burning rubber wafting into the air. His fender slams into my side. My bumper smashes his fuel line. The balloon of fire bursts from the centre, the paint on our cars beginning to melt, but the interior remaining mostly intact.  Tires screech as they stop suddenly to avoid the expanding inferno. Still swerving wildly, we collide once more.  This time, bumper to bumper. The impact sends us backwards, knocking the railing bars into the air, making a graceful leap as if a juggler had tossed his flaming torch.  Then it lands into the water, flames beginning to fade. Soon after, our cars do the same.  As the vehicle plummets, the last bit of consciousness was fading from the two of us, we copy each other’s actions and try to escape, our hot bodies going a farther distance. In the end, either way, we were still two piles of ashes.    

 

 

 

And that's it! I wrap up a new piece. I was going to publish this later, but then I don't want to procrastinate. Have fun reading!

[Guest]

Approved!

 

Once more, very well written! I picked up a few (to be precise 3) minor mistakes in grammar, but nothing major. Your ability to take something relatively simplistic (or aggressive in this case) and turn it into a beautifully written tale surprises me.

 

I may have messed up your formatting though, so my apologies!

[P.4.R.K.O.U.R 329]

Nice.

[thethiefofvictory 339]

Why can't I write so well?  :(

[Magenta 5,165]

Damn you're good!

[P.4.R.K.O.U.R 329]

Umm... was this about Flexbot? He seems pretty much dead nowadays and he has a huge liking for Reporter-coercing Extremely Disgusting Socks.

[P.4.R.K.O.U.R 329]

Maybe. :P :ph34r: Although what is the socks part about?

RED Sox

[Person_Random 4,991]

Approved!

 

Once more, very well written! I picked up a few (to be precise 3) minor mistakes in grammar, but nothing major. Your ability to take something relatively simplistic (or aggressive in this case) and turn it into a beautifully written tale surprises me.

 

I may have messed up your formatting though, so my apologies!

Meh I didn't see any formatting problems.  Except in the email notification, it was not really the same but that's emails.

 

RED Sox

Oh wow im so dummm

[JAGMAN2468 104]

Nice one!

[Aigaion 636]

Nice too see AWS a bit more active, thought u nubs wer ded :x

[Person_Random 4,991]

Lol I'm not ded, I was just busy, so I only have my instant ideas rages right now, more stories and stuff soon!

[Pyre 3,485]

Like me, but more modern I guess.

[Viking4s 10,791]

So, what inspired you for this story?

[P.4.R.K.O.U.R 329]

So, what inspired you for this story?

$5000

[Viking4s 10,791]

$5000

You are soooooo expensive.

[P.4.R.K.O.U.R 329]

You are soooooo expensive.

Nah. I'm kinda free right now. :p