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Right. Ahhh the World Baseball Classic. I recall my youth: I must have been 7, when my dad and I watched Cuba lose to Venezuela. That was when he explained Communism to me. And who can forget the 1987 classic between Japan and Canada? The memories are the fondest of my life.
To save Tracy the trouble...the World Baseball Classic is new and is in its first year of operation. This is the worst spring training ever and I hope it never happens again. This is as wrong as two boys fucking.
Tomorrow I will awake and I will run and I will brief the USR to the SCO. This will be the last time ever. I got some NCO to do it and I never have to do it again. This is the best thing to happen to me in the history of my life. All drinks are on me. This is cause for celebration. This is cause to slaughter five thousand bulls in its honor.
There is this woman, I believe her name is Amy, and she has my cholesterol high as fuck. She works at this steakhouse and she is a bombshell. I eat steak two times a week just so she can say, "Baseball steak rare?" I say, "Yes. Thank you ma'am." Then I eat it and I watch her bring food to other people and I desire to eat the steak off her flesh. I drink my beer and I think to myself that soon I will go to war and I will never be the same. She wouldn't like me now and I doubt she will like me upon mission completion. I will be different and I will never have the story of drinking the sweat from the small of her back.
I will kill. I will destroy. I will have the blood of a wanton slaughter of children on my hands. I will never know what it is like to watch her orgasm and roll her head to the side as her back thrusts upward and her feet tremble.
She will never see the man I long to be and she will never she the woman she is through my eyes. Nothing realized. Nothing shared. Nothing lost. I wouldn't have it any other way,
There is so much inside wanting to escape. It desires to be let loose on the world. To make its mark on eternity and crash its way into the future. There is so much stifled by parameters established by rules of the ancestors. The ancestors were unable to change and incapable of coming up with this shit on their own. What was once collaborative is now solitary. What was once magic is now science. What was once science is now voodoo. What was once voodoo is now hoped for. What was once hoped for is now mine to bring to fruition. And I will leave when I want.
You have stopped reading and are now skimming. You have decided what you will think and you are scrolling to the end as if I am watching and it is a sin not to read it all. You want to make it look like you are reading it all. You will never. You have determined there is nothing special about this. There is nothing to make you gasp. There is nothing to offer ballast. There is just what I construct. What I construct are shitty apartments in the ghetto. I have fooled you into thinking I construct high rises in the desirable area. You are slumming without knowing it.
I want to look at your face. I want the look of confusion on your face as I smile awkwardly and look at the ground and say something simplistically profound. I want to bring you to tears while I smile and wish I hadn't done it. I want to stop the uncomfortable silence with a kiss and wish I hadn't done it. I want to hold you the way I know how and the way you wish he had. I want to hear you say something about perfect and angels and wish I hadn't. I will never live up to the first moment of the night, and you will never live up to the idea of you in my head. I wish you had and I wish I hadn't.