There were two outs in the seventh and Thumper was up to bat. He no longer stayed in bars befriending lonely crackpots, but found this game he could play with his friends. He dusted the dirt off his bat and stared the pitcher down, ears and whiskers twitching as he stood, a six-foot tower of white fur.

As Thumper irritated home plate, she moaned. The last pitch was in the dirt and hit her.There are rules, even for home plate. She had no padding and, in her nakedness, assumed a fetal position. The ball was supposed to go over her head. Alice never thought that by going down a hole, she would end up in the World Series, but there she was on the cover of Sports Illustrated.

Peter wound up and threw a perfect slider. Thumper was on the mark and the ball shot back and skyward somewhere over the rainbow. Harry, in the outfield, thought the ball was foul and, running after the ball, fell into a black hole.

Falling, falling, it seemed like forever.

Message edited on: 10/10/2004 01:57