"The Big Game"

By: Michael Brunette

      Six weeks after my surgery I discovered another growth in my armpit.  But this time it was on my left arm... my pitching arm.  And its only three days until the "Big Game"! 

      "Whats a girl to do?"  I asked myself as I stared at my reflection in the broken mirror.

     A single tear traveled down my cheek.  It kind of resembled Phil Hartman when he ran bases with nothing but a peach colored sweatsuit on and artificial legs at last years "25th Anniversary Special" that was held at Yankee Stadium.

      I couldn't miss this game, not this time!  So I ran to the kitchen where my Grandmother's felt-tipped cutlery stood upright on the counter top like a soldier in the Falcon Islands.

     With one single swift motion, I lobbed off the devils ball from my armpit.  Shortly after choice, I quickly realized that I didn't make the smartest move.  I began to bleed a lake.  I then grew cold and dampened with the wine-colored liquid that people call blood.  I passed out and fell on the paring knife.

      I lost more blood than Christopher Reeves in a three-legged race with Steven Hawkings.   I would have been fine if I didn't donate plasma three hours prior to the incident. 

     Thank god my pipes were warmed up from Ozzfest the night before because I screamed my little lungs out!   At about the third attempt for help, my Grandmother shuffled her way to the kitchen.  She took me to Urgent Care but I was later sent home because I had no health insurance.

    Three days later I played my game, but lost.  It's hard to play ball with a paring knife hanging from your Gludius Maximus and one arm missing. 

    The doctor told me the arm would grow back within two to three weeks but its too late now.  I lost the "big game" and let down the entire team. 

    I guess it just wasn't my bag.  I'll have to go back to something I sincerely good at, like "Underwater Basket Weaving".

The End