The shirtless dude started off near a garbage can but soon moved into a more central position by a big, beautiful tree. It was here where he began to bullwhip the leaves off of the tree. Such a dedicated warrior! Such terrifying accuracy!! As he didn’t seem like the type who was adverse to a little bit of attention, Rachelle and I took the dog over to have a closer look. He nodded at us, and we nodded back, noticing that he was actually stunningly good looking.
Rachelle: Cool!!
Douche with the whip: (In a completely posh British accent) Would you like to try?
Rachelle: (Giggles)
Me: (Holding the twig I had been using to play fetch with Heidi and in an unfortunately thin and raspy voice) Are you a Indiana Jones or something?
Douche with the whip: I’m sorry sir, I couldn’t quite hear you.
Me: (Clearing my throat and taking a lozenge) My allergies are bothering me, I said, “Are you Indiana Jones?”
Rachelle: (Stepping forward) I’d like to try now, please!
Douche with the whip: (Smiling like Jude Law) No, I’m not, but my agent thought it would be a good idea if I learned a little bit about the whip as he has an audition for me in a new role on Game of Thrones. I can’t tell you how thrilled I am to have that opportunity, so you’ll have to forgive me if I’m making a display of myself out here, but you really need space to practice. (To Rachelle) Of course you can try!
Rachelle: (Jumping up and down and clapping her hands)
Me: I’m a well-known writer. I’ve been interviewed on TV.
Rachelle: Oh, that was a long time ago, Pickle! You haven’t been a columnist in years!! (To the douche) Everybody on Game of Thrones is so beautiful, I’m sure you’ll get the part!!
Douche with the whip: (Holding Rachelle around the waist and guiding her hand as she held the whip) You have to really relax your wrist and use a very free and easy motion.
Me: I think Game of Thrones is over-rated. Without the nudity nobody would even notice the show.
Rachelle: Will your character be asked to do any nudity? Oh, and I’m Rachelle (she actually tossed her hair), what’s your name?
Douche with whip: My name is William Burroughs, like the author. Apparently we’re related but I don’t know exactly how.
Me: Rachelle, Heidi’s not feeling well and needs to go home.
Rachelle: Okay Pickle, you take her, I’ll catch up later!
A father and his two young daughters walked by on the path beside me, and the dad commented to his girls that it was great that there was a baseball game on in the park for everybody. The youngest girl, the one who might have been four, looked at him like he was crazy, “Not really, you know you can only watch them play, right Daddy?”
A skinny woman somewhere in her 50’s jumped about behind home plate encouraging the Leafs. She had spiky, blonde hair and was wearing a two-piece Lycra workout suit that she’d pulled up over her paunchy stomach to the belly button. Her thing, it seemed, which may well have been her workout, was to trot off after the foul balls and return them to the coaches. It was clear that this wasn’t an official position, but rather a chosen one.
Not far from her was a guy in a lawn chair with opinions.
He thought that the strike zone was too big.
He couldn’t believe that a hotdog stand existed without Rob Ford at it.
The second baseman couldn’t catch the flu.
When the spiky-haired woman ran off after another foul ball, he piped up, “I can’t believe they’re so cheap that they make you give the balls back!”
The woman seemed almost insulted by this and turned toward him, her hands on her hips, and in a chippy, defiant voice said, “The game’s for free, they don’t make no money and they’d go broke if they were giving away the balls!”
Lawn chair: That’s crap, you gotta think big, you gotta think marketing! If they gave the balls away this place would be packed and they’d have sponsors all over the place!”
Spiky-haired woman: You just want something for nothing.
Lawn Chair: When I was a kid they gave ‘em out for free!
Spiky-haired woman: Well, this ain’t the 60’s!
Lawn Chair: Jesus, I’m not that old! (But he looked like he was) That just shows you don’t know shit!
Spiky-haired woman: Yeah, you are too that old, and you know what? The reason you’re griping about the balls is because you ain’t got none!
And then the second baseman booted the ball and the guy in the lawn chair used this distraction and started to shout at him, “Goddamn it, can’t you guys do anything right!” and as he yelled the spiky-haired woman kept looking right at him, satisfied that she’d protected her turf.
