Folks, you’ve been forced to endure NESN’s “The Adventures of Ellsbury ‘n’ Elf” here at SurvivingGrady.com for some time now. But did you ever wonder how Ellsbury and Pedroia became roommates? Well, you’re in luck; that’s what today’s special episode is all about!


The life of a ballplayer on the road is one of HILARITY, INTRIGUE and a seemingly never-ending string of twenty-dollar hookers. It is also a time of INSANELY MIS-MATCHED ROOMMATES, as more and more teams attempt to cut costs by forcing teammates to bunk-up together. As our story begins, we find two star-crossed roomies enjoying breakfast.


Top o’ the f@#kin’ mornin.


Hey, Josh.


::scratches ass:: Have you seen the f@#kin’ Pop-Tarts?


I… I think they’re on the counter.


::stuffs fist in Pop-Tart box:: I’ve got a good f@#kin’ feelin’ about today, man. I don’t know why, but I’m totally pumped for today. F@#k, yes!


For crumb’s sake, Josh, can you tone down the language?


The f@#k? What f@#kin’ language?


That language. Every other word out of your mouth is some kind of vulgarity. I just can’t take it any more.


Look here, rookie. This is Man-Town, you follow? We eat meat, we traffic in booze and whores, and we use colorful language where appropriate. As in, “How the f@#k are you today?” and “Excuse me, but that’s my f@#kin’ telescope, buddy.”


I see.


Seems to me that someone’s gotta do a whole lotta sackin’ up if they want to stay in the big leagues. Now if you’ll excuse me, I gotta make a f@#kin’ phone call.

::Later::


…so I think I might be happier with a different roommate.


I think I have just the guy for you.

::The next day::


…and not many people know this, but Lincoln was also the first President to ratify the “Slurpee Doctrine,” allowing local dry goods merchants to install Slurpee machines in their stores.


Sean, it’s really cool to learn about Presidents.


I know. And we’re only at Lincoln right now. Tomorrow night, we’ll investigate the wonders of Andrew Johnson. I also made us some powdered wigs to capture the spirit of–


But I really don’t need a bedtime story every night. I’m twenty-four years old.


Well. Okay. I guess this stack of Richard Scarry books seems pretty useless now, then.


It’s not that I don’t appreciate it… it’s–


It’s okay. ::Eyes welling with tears:: I… I just need some air.

::The next day::


Anybody else?


Alright. I’ve got it this time.

::Later::


::Answers knock at door:: Hey!


Hey. Tito sent me. I’m your new roomie.


Cool. You like video games?


Like ‘em? Dude, I’ve been playing so much GTA IV, I built some special fake metal hands so I can keep playing way past the point of physical exhaustion.


::Glee::

::The next day::


How’s things with the new roomie?


Excellent. Couldn’t be better, boss.


Glad to hear it.


But… I sometimes wonder about Josh.


No worries. I found him an old friend who’s working out just fine.

::Across town::


Alright, where the f@#k are my Corn Flakes?


::swoons::