Softball Game

Talent Softball Game

Rolo lay at the end of the bench where a patch of

grass made a nice bed. He looked at Big Mike, whose

head bobbed up and down as he chattered, “Atta

boy, Harry.  Nice and easy.  Hey, batta, batta, swing!”

Rolo watched the next pitch float from Harry’s hand.

It went up into the sky; too high, Rolo thought, and

too far off the plate. The ball fell into the dirt a foot 

outside and kicked up a cloud of dust. “Ball!” Carl

Hicks cried, and Harry Reems slapped his glove on

his right thigh. Lizzie DeLay griped, “Harry, get

the ball over the fuggin' plate, could you?” Rolo

yawned and stretched a little, bothered by a fly that

Settled above his right eye.  Lizzie doesn’t really

understand the game and cusses too much, Rolo

realized, rising to stroll to the other end of the bench 

where his bowl of water and tennis ball lay. He took

A drink and nudged the ball with his nose, feeling

good, certain he could play if only they’d let him. Rolo

could feel a sense of bitterness and frustration begin

to gnaw at him, knowing he’d soon bite Lizzie again.

TS