The Single Stinger Swinger
Loosely Inspired And Submitted To The Summer That Wasn't Challenge
Peacefully staring into space, Miss Ray studied the outfield prospects noticing one handle a routine fly with true professionalism. “Nice going kid,” the heir to the single A franchise acknowledged after realizing who he was and the last time she saw the young talent. Spotting occurred, inside her high school home economics class, when the student completed final exam essay obligations, explaining cleaning the plate.
“Mr. Jay Low, do you think you are prepared for tomorrow?” The teacher with adolescent characteristics inquired accepting his paper.
“Picked up my cap and gown yesterday, Miss Ray,” Jay Lowe answered, “what about the Stingers are they prepared for tomorrow?”
“Daddy, just signed a new mounds man from the mother country, a cricket bowler, Nash Banger,” Miss Ray boasted, “daddy says, ‘he is an early riser reliever’; serving up nice plumpy breakfast bratwursts that will make a team passionately grin.”
“Great to hear that,”
“Also, Mr. Jay Lowe, if you come out to the diamond and Nash Bangers skyrockets one,” Miss Ray teased, “all cheese fries are free until Lacey Leather comes down and gets gloved.”
“Even the super deluxe version?”
Affirmatively acknowledging, Miss Ray watched Mr. Jay Lowe leave the classroom, responding under her breath, “especially the super deluxe version.”
Due to good quality products, climbing the ladder, finding better seasoned positions, the Stingers promoted positive community relations, until one star gazing evening when Miss Ray strolled the beachside entertainment pavilion. Carefully, not sneaker stumbling on the wooden boardwalk planks, Miss Ray decided spending time, giving a certain pitcher’s game a chance.
“If you put this big round object in the clown’s mouth,” the barker paused, “you win a prize.”
“Okay Jason,” she replied.
“Do you want to give it a try? Miss Ray,”
Cupping the enormous rawhide twine, Miss Ray let the jokester have it, right between the eyes.
“Too bad, Miss Ray,”
“Not a bad shot,” the local educator heard, curiously turning around,
“Nash,” Miss Ray quipped, “Nash Banger.”
“The bowler who throws strikes,”
“So, what brings you out to the amusement area?”
“I want to go home with a nice toy to play with.”
Taking the comment in stride, Miss Ray continued the conversation over coffee, paid with tickets won, rolling Skee balls, sinking a hard sphere object into a small circle, igniting spinning red-light sirens. Memorized by each other’s glare, the two listened to the ocean perform background musical selections, creating the perfect moment.
Time signaled evening retirement and Miss Ray invited Nash back to her home. Outside the crickets’ taps rendition underneath the moonlight, serenaded the scene encouraging the glistening grass to enjoy their final dew cocktail. Sitting in the recliner, Miss Ray opened her sleepy eyes, "did you enjoy the seaside escape?”
“Yeah,” Nash answered, lurking in the kitchen’s dim light.
“What are you doing?” The teenage real-world instructor realized suddenly, action was taking place on her turf.
“Cooking breakfast its nine A.M. British time, and if I do not eat before ten, I am a monster.”
“Really,” Miss Ray investigated.
Taking a seat, waiting patiently, moments passed, and Nash Banger presented a Sunnyside egg entree. “Here,” Nash interrupted creatively placing two pork Weiners, “a smiley face. You do know I am the third link to the famous European Banger sausage franchise.”
Surprised, not hearing a response Nash took a step back, “What is this?” Miss Ray finally commentated.
“A happy dish to start the day,”
“But I like mine scrambled!” Miss Ray attitude changed, grabbing a butter knife.
Sadly, Nash never saw it coming and Miss Ray flexed an overpowering slider with the mild cutting instrument impaling the offensive hurler’s pupil peepers, turning them, blood red. Watching his head fall straight into her dish Miss Ray grabbed the ketchup, “the yolk is on you.”
Beating the new horizon, Miss Ray found a gutter and respectively placed the former bowler, giving him an eternal resting spot before distancing herself from the act until the summer game schedule finished.
“Miss Ray,” a London Fog wearing character called out, proceeding the umpire field level duties yelling, ‘play ball’.
“Oh, it's you Sherlock,” Miss Ray addressed the issue, “how did you find me?”
“You always sit in the VIP box and watch high school graduates play the outfield,” Sherlock retorted.
“Well,” Miss Ray acted dumb, “what can I do for you?”
“We know you rolled our famed bowler down the gutter,”
“You do not have another one to spare?” Miss Ray started confessing as the detective grabbed metal bracelets.
“Time to come with us,” Sherlock declared, and Miss Ray surrendered.
While being escorted towards the paddy wagon, Jay Lowe pounded his mitt, “are you prepared for tomorrow?”
Only sound, came from Miss Ray’s father replying, “I really do miss that Nash Banger, he used to make me a nice hearty breakfast.”
“He is one of the top starters for the triple A team, they said, Boss,” Jay Lowe informed, “so, you can put me in.”
About the Creator
Marc OBrien
Barry University graduate Marc O'Brien has returned to Florida after a 17 year author residency in Las Vegas. He will continue using fiction as a way to distribute information. Books include "The Final Fence: Sophomores In The Saddle"
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