Post by lanceerickson on Apr 8, 2007 21:44:34 GMT -6
The scene opens up with Lance Erikson and Holly walking through the gates of Kauffman Stadium in Kansas City. Lance is wearing his standard suit and Holly is decked out in a spaghetti strap top with a pair of capris. They check their tickets and head over to the area of the away team's dugout where the loyal KC fans are Jeering the Detroit Tigers. The two sidle over and find Dave Hunter sitting there, wearing a Kansas City Royals Jersey and hat all the while looking completely ridiculous. Dave Hunter looks up from his program and sees the two sitting down next to him.
Dave Hunter: Why the hell are we here again?
Lance Erikson: Easy. You're British right? You've never seen a good old fashioned game of American Baseball. It's a lot less confusing than that damn thing you guys call cricket.
Holly: Just sit back and enjoy the game...
Dave Hunter: What the hell's she doing here?
Lance Erikson: (shrugs) I don't know, she doesn't annoy me. Anyway, just sit here for a few. I need to get some food before the game starts
Dave Hunter: Hey, get me a beer will you?
Lance Erikson: You gonna pay for it?
Dave Hunter pulls out a 10 Pound note from his wallet and hands it over to Lance who just glares at him. Dave pulls it back and gives Lance a 20 dollar bill. Lance clambers over the crowd sitting in their seats and heads up to the concessions stand. Lance looks around and sees a line at the stand and cuts in front of an old man in a walker near the front of the line. The man starts to protest, but Lance turns his head and looks over his sunglasses with a finger and the man shuts up. After just a moment, Lance gets to the front and the nice concessions lady asks him what he wants.
Lance Erikson: Yeah, give me a Bud, a pretzel, and a Mr. Pibb.
Concessions Lady: Sorry, we only have Dr. Pepper at this stand.
Lance Erikson: I don't want Dr. Pepper, I want Mr. Pibb.
Concessions Lady: You might try the stand on the home team's side.
Lance grimaces and walks away. He weaves his way to the other concessions stand and gets his amenities from the pimply faced kid there after he pays out his ass for the overpriced items. Lance winds his way through the maze of people and finally gets back to his seat. He hands off the beer to Dave who for some reason is now equipped with a baseball mitt. He takes a chunk from the pretzel and hands the rest off to Holly. Dave looks around uncomfortably as the umpire screams "PLAY BALL".
Lance Erikson: So, did you find anything on Flap Flanagan and Alf? Cause I've got nothing aside from that bile that he somehow got onto TV earlier today.
Dave Hunter: Nope, sorry mate. Wait, why are the guys changing sides already?
Lance Erikson: Because, three outs, the other team takes the field. This Flap Flanagan needs to be taught some respect. You know what we need to do right?
Dave Hunter: Keep the little man grounded. Kick his ass.
Lance Erikson: And if he tries to do his...mating dance, I'm gonna rip those ears of his off. For myself and the rest of us. We can't let this guy make a fool of us...you hear me?
Dave Hunter: Yeah, we're THE team to beat in this match, but we've gotta back it up now.
Lance Erikson: Doesn't matter which one of us is in, or who our opponent is. We need to keep the pressure on. Cut the weak members off from their partners. Do to them what we did to Shane. In short...we need to dominate.
Lance reaches over and grabs another piece of pretzel from Holly ("Hey"). Dave polishes off his ballpark beer while the Kansas City pitcher delivers a room service fastball to the batter who crushes a home run.
Dave Hunter: What happened there?
Lance Erikson: Home run, ball gets hit over the fence, and everybody out there scores. Look, we've been busy all week working on ways to take down Pickle$ and Ty Benson. It'll be embarassing for us if we take Flap Flanagan and Alf for granted. I've done that once and it's never happening again. How is baseball sitting with you?
Dave Hunter: It's okay, it'll have to do seeing as you don't have cricket out here. We'll have to work on dealing with a fast and tiny guy. I don't know about you, but even if he is 155 lbs. I don't want him to land on me.
Lance shakes his head in assent with what Dave just said, but still keeps his eyes on the game. LaRue, from Kansas City, hits a foul ball that goes sailing right to the row in front of our troupe. Lance reaches forward and snags the ball just before it hits the glove of a small kid. The kid starts to cry as Lance tosses the ball to himself, pocketing it.
Dave Hunter: You get to keep the ball?
Lance Erikson: Yeah, as long as you catch it, or get it somehow. Anyway, the game's just about over. Look, it's the last inning and Detroit is up, 3-2. Kansas City isn't good enough to pull themselves out of this one. So, I'm right in assuming that we're going to put on a tag team clinic right?
Dave Hunter: Yeah, definently.
Lance Erikson: Don't let me down. I like you, don't make me change my mind.
Dave Hunter: You won't have any reason to.
The game ends, with Kansas City losing, of course. Dave Hunter leaves with his game memorabilia while Lance and Holly hop into the Beemer and speed off, with Lance tossing the ball he 'caught' to himself all the while. The scene fades out.
Dave Hunter: Why the hell are we here again?
Lance Erikson: Easy. You're British right? You've never seen a good old fashioned game of American Baseball. It's a lot less confusing than that damn thing you guys call cricket.
Holly: Just sit back and enjoy the game...
Dave Hunter: What the hell's she doing here?
Lance Erikson: (shrugs) I don't know, she doesn't annoy me. Anyway, just sit here for a few. I need to get some food before the game starts
Dave Hunter: Hey, get me a beer will you?
Lance Erikson: You gonna pay for it?
Dave Hunter pulls out a 10 Pound note from his wallet and hands it over to Lance who just glares at him. Dave pulls it back and gives Lance a 20 dollar bill. Lance clambers over the crowd sitting in their seats and heads up to the concessions stand. Lance looks around and sees a line at the stand and cuts in front of an old man in a walker near the front of the line. The man starts to protest, but Lance turns his head and looks over his sunglasses with a finger and the man shuts up. After just a moment, Lance gets to the front and the nice concessions lady asks him what he wants.
Lance Erikson: Yeah, give me a Bud, a pretzel, and a Mr. Pibb.
Concessions Lady: Sorry, we only have Dr. Pepper at this stand.
Lance Erikson: I don't want Dr. Pepper, I want Mr. Pibb.
Concessions Lady: You might try the stand on the home team's side.
Lance grimaces and walks away. He weaves his way to the other concessions stand and gets his amenities from the pimply faced kid there after he pays out his ass for the overpriced items. Lance winds his way through the maze of people and finally gets back to his seat. He hands off the beer to Dave who for some reason is now equipped with a baseball mitt. He takes a chunk from the pretzel and hands the rest off to Holly. Dave looks around uncomfortably as the umpire screams "PLAY BALL".
Lance Erikson: So, did you find anything on Flap Flanagan and Alf? Cause I've got nothing aside from that bile that he somehow got onto TV earlier today.
Dave Hunter: Nope, sorry mate. Wait, why are the guys changing sides already?
Lance Erikson: Because, three outs, the other team takes the field. This Flap Flanagan needs to be taught some respect. You know what we need to do right?
Dave Hunter: Keep the little man grounded. Kick his ass.
Lance Erikson: And if he tries to do his...mating dance, I'm gonna rip those ears of his off. For myself and the rest of us. We can't let this guy make a fool of us...you hear me?
Dave Hunter: Yeah, we're THE team to beat in this match, but we've gotta back it up now.
Lance Erikson: Doesn't matter which one of us is in, or who our opponent is. We need to keep the pressure on. Cut the weak members off from their partners. Do to them what we did to Shane. In short...we need to dominate.
Lance reaches over and grabs another piece of pretzel from Holly ("Hey"). Dave polishes off his ballpark beer while the Kansas City pitcher delivers a room service fastball to the batter who crushes a home run.
Dave Hunter: What happened there?
Lance Erikson: Home run, ball gets hit over the fence, and everybody out there scores. Look, we've been busy all week working on ways to take down Pickle$ and Ty Benson. It'll be embarassing for us if we take Flap Flanagan and Alf for granted. I've done that once and it's never happening again. How is baseball sitting with you?
Dave Hunter: It's okay, it'll have to do seeing as you don't have cricket out here. We'll have to work on dealing with a fast and tiny guy. I don't know about you, but even if he is 155 lbs. I don't want him to land on me.
Lance shakes his head in assent with what Dave just said, but still keeps his eyes on the game. LaRue, from Kansas City, hits a foul ball that goes sailing right to the row in front of our troupe. Lance reaches forward and snags the ball just before it hits the glove of a small kid. The kid starts to cry as Lance tosses the ball to himself, pocketing it.
Dave Hunter: You get to keep the ball?
Lance Erikson: Yeah, as long as you catch it, or get it somehow. Anyway, the game's just about over. Look, it's the last inning and Detroit is up, 3-2. Kansas City isn't good enough to pull themselves out of this one. So, I'm right in assuming that we're going to put on a tag team clinic right?
Dave Hunter: Yeah, definently.
Lance Erikson: Don't let me down. I like you, don't make me change my mind.
Dave Hunter: You won't have any reason to.
The game ends, with Kansas City losing, of course. Dave Hunter leaves with his game memorabilia while Lance and Holly hop into the Beemer and speed off, with Lance tossing the ball he 'caught' to himself all the while. The scene fades out.