Jim Baen's Universe Vol 3 No 2 by Eric Flint

Author:Eric Flint [Flint, Eric]
Format: epub
Published: 2009-10-01T03:00:00+00:00

You know you've seen it all when you see Thor the great thunder god charge the mound, and the sky goes black, and lightning crackles in the air. "Thor is Designated Hwacker!" I miss Zack for a few seconds, then see he's crumpled on the mound into a ball, trying to protect himself. The rest of the teams pours out towards them, for a good brawl. The vampire gets a nice bleeder and turns into a bat to limp off towards their dugout. The tree catcher thing is throwing people left and right. And there is Thor in the middle, howling at the top of his lungs "Nobody throws at Thor! Thor is designated hwacker!"

"Well, folks," I say, taking a deep breath, "there's really no way to properly describe this, unless you wanted to think of maybe some of the fights from the Ring movies . . . no, that doesn't exactly do it either. Aw, hell, I give up . . ."

I duck just as a bolt of lightning goes down in the middle of left field.

People are screaming.

As I get up, I notice that both Bill and Terry, the respective managers, are standing off to one side casually watching the whole thing. "They seem to be discussing something, people—maybe they're just letting each team get their frustrations out. But what a way to be doing it!"

Another bolt goes down and smashes into one of the cameras, causing sparks to fly. More screaming.

Then it starts to rain. Players stop fighting fast, and head for the dugouts, at least the humans. I notice that Bill is checking out Heller, who's almost been strangled by that tree they have with them. The pitcher, not the catcher tree.

Then I see my wife.

She was first in the Sox dugout, chatting with Bill, checking for injuries, I guess. Heller is sent into the clubhouse, I see. Then I notice the megaphone in her hands, just as she and Bill finish talking. We have a rain delay for an hour.

This is the most fun I've ever had during a rain delay. The fairies, unbothered by the rain at all, are still fooling around out there—except Thor, who's been benched by his manager. Someone gets the bright idea to start blasting Witchy Woman from the loudspeakers, and our visitors make a nice show of dancing to it. Some of the guys in the dugout join them from there; McCoon almost collapses laughing when Yarlton starts to moonwalk. The crowd starts singing.

I start to breathe again.

Finally, the rain begins tapering off. My wife strides out towards the pitchers' mound with all the intensity of a player. I can see the guys sobering up; they know what Lacy is like when she's in a temper. Thankfully, she's pretty calm about it.

"Both teams will resume their positions," she says into the megaphone. "Those directly involved in the fight will be fined accordingly."

I see Thor hanging his head shamefully.

"The game will recommence. I would like to remind Bostonians that these are our guests and should be treated with respect.

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