::on phone:: Yeah, so I’m feeling pretty good, Terry, and I figure I’ll be back any day now to–

::knock at door::


Hold on a sec. Who is it?


Dude. Open up.


Youk. What are you doing here?


Merry Christmas ::holds out wrapped package::


It’s August.


I mean happy birthday. Just open it up. I got it for you.


::examines box:: “Rocket Boots”?


Yeah. They’re big in Japan, apparently. You put ‘em on and, I dunno, fly around I guess.


Looks dangerous.


Dangerous? F@#kin’ kids use these things in Japan. Now come on and put ‘em on. I wanna see you do some flyin’. Over that pile of broken glass on your front walkway.


Aye carumba! Where did all that glass come from?


::Hides behind tree, sack of beer bottles at his feet::


Here, I’ll help you put ‘em on. Gimme your f@#kin’ feet, you little rat bastard.


Wait a minute. I’m not–


::pulls up in monster truck:: Julian! The wife and kids are away so I figured you might want to hang.


It’s Julio.


Whatevs. Let’s go huntin’.


Hunting? With guns?


Of course with guns. I got one for you, chief. Oh, and I also brought you this special cap.


::inspects cap:: This cap has antlers.


Yeah? And if your aunt had balls she’d be your uncle. What’s yer point?


Why would I want to be strolling around the hunter-infested woods wearing a hat with antlers on it?


You gonna question my methods, shitbird*? It’s all about understanding your prey. Seeing the world through his eyes. Oh, and you’ll need to hold this dynamite…


No, no. Please, I–


::flies in erractically on jetpack:: Yo, Loogs! Check it. Two for one jetpack night at Bukowski’s Pub. Let’s get liquored up and give ‘em a go.


Guys–


Dig it! ::flies low and slams into side of house:: Unnnf.


Listen. I don’t want to go hunting or wear Rocket Boots or fly around with a jetpack.


Agreed! Let’s just stay here and kick this large sack filled with bricks and fire.


Honestly, if I didn’t know any better, I’d swear you guys were trying to make sure I remained on the DL so that Jed Lowrie can keep playing shortstop.


Lowrie? Who the f@#k is Lowrie?


You mean Jed “22 RBIs in three weeks” Lowrie? Guy’s a bum. C’mon, let’s do some Drano shots!


Look, Lowrie might be the shortstop of the future, but I’m the shortstop of today. You know Tito won’t let me sit once I’m ready. I think you all need to take a deep breath and acknowledge that we’re still in the Lugo Era.


Aw, balls. I hate it when he makes sense.


We could still take him by force. Stick a lightning rod up his ass and leave him in an open field during a thunder storm. That shit happens all the time.


But is that the right thing to do?


I suppose not.


Frankly, I think you should all be ashamed of yourselves. Julio helped us win a World Series. He’s earned his stripes and we gotta respect that.


Thank you, Jacoby.


No prob. Now come on. Sit down and relax. I made you some dinner.


::pokes at food on plate:: Eh… it smells good. What is it?


Oh, just some ground beef mixed with a mild sedative that causes a slow onset of paralysis that lasts anywhere from eight to nine weeks and is virtually untraceable in blood.


Say what?


Er, I mean… steak.

*First known use of this term by a Red Sox player since Gary Allenson referred to teammate Sam Bowen as “that shitbird” in 1980.