Three Throws Over

So I’m standing over on first base after taking my base on balls, and the pitcher just keeps eyeballing me from the mound. He’s looking over at the leadoff I’m taking for at least fifteen seconds before the umpire has to call time and remind the pitcher that the man on first base is not supposed to get into his head. But it’s too late, the pitcher is already coming up with ways to have me picked off, and I can see the thoughts swirling around up there. He makes three throws over, each one getting closer to nabbing me. Of course, the pitcher doesn’t know that I’ve been designing this scenario to make him think that I’m taking too many liberties.

Next thing I know, a snake comes out from the first base dugout and slithers right over to me. All it does is hiss and make its way to the pitcher, who steps on it, picks it up, calls time, and tosses it over to the dugout. Nobody knows where the snake came from or how it got onto the field without being detected, but I don’t really care so much. Just before the next pitch, I take off for second and steal it neatly.


Author: Aidan Badinger I am a poet. I write poems. Titles and subjects and subsequent readership are all part of one fragmented figment of our universe, and it's nice that we take it so seriously. Hopefully the craft remains and grows stronger for our children.

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