SHORT HOP - My Career In Baseball by David Driscoll

[Tib]

Thanks for all the great comments. No, there is no story post this time, but I'm very, very close. The Bahamas trip is getting so long I'm considering splitting it into two chapters.

Brevity is not my strong suit, and yet I try to keep things concise...

I'm posting to address AdmiralACF's excellent points. First, I can't believe I missed that many typos! I'm usually very good at that. Second, there are a lot of small changes I'd make if I re-read the whole story again. Each time I go over it I change something. One of my personal goals was to maintain the pace of a real writer -- that is, someone who writes every day. I really wanted to see if I could crank out quality work (more or less) on a weekly basis. Because of that, I knew there would be little stylistic hiccups and context detours once in a while. With your excellent attention to detail you are picking up on some of these. I commend you for it and have made a note to review the examples you gave. But because I'm determined to forge ahead, the passages in question, with the exception of the spelling errors (which I can fix), will stay as they are. Hey, I'll tighten everything up before the book comes out. :P

Re: simming the history as I go: yes, it created a little bit of work to refer to something in the story that hadn't actually happened yet in the league history. The early chapters of Short Hop contained many references to historical events that hadn't even "happened" yet. A certain clutch playoff sliding catch comes to mind. Even as late as Chapter 10 I was only just beginning to sim the ABF.

One perfect example of this "historic backfill" is the integration of the league. The CBA started in 1966. The first black player in baseball started for ABF Detroit in 1957, but in my ABF "catch up sim" I'm only to 1903. Basically what this means is come 1957 I'll have to insert Clayton Breckenfield, with all his skill levels intact, onto the Monarchs' roster. That's problematic, of course, because I've already reported what some of these players accomplished. And yes, it could result in some skewed numbers down the line, but keep in mind I'm simming the ABF to give background to the main story, not necessarily to be a stand alone league of it's own. Hell, I'll fix it in the book.

Inaccuracies will occur. In retrospect, I would have avoided this weird arrangement. I never thought I'd need to know what someone did in 1913. I mean, how could that possibly figure into the story of a guy living in 2007? Then again, I didn't expect the Interludes to become such a project. What was a little sidelight has become a production of its own.

The other important thing to remember is I've stayed true to the original restriction: that ITP run Dave's professional career. With the exception of contract decisions (extensions, free agency, etc.), everything in Dave's career will be 100% ITP. In fact, as tempting as it is, I've decided to stay away from the Ultimate Hitters' Workout. I've decided to do the best I can on my own.

Then again, what if Dave hooks up with a phenomenal trainer with a revolutionary system? Hmmm....

And lastly, I'll definitely see what I can do about giving you a league structure. I wanted to keep the graphics to a minimum, but if I figure out how to post screenshots (Jax, I'm looking at you here), I will. I'm also at work on a character index. When I get it done I'll post that, too.

[AdmiralACF]

Tib, thanks for the response. I'm glad I can help out. I just want to say that I am very impressed that you've been able to write with the tempo of a full-time writer when you have a job and a family to dedicate time to as well. I for one feel very lucky to have received, as a reader, what must be a sizable chunk of your free time. Thank you for that.

As for the league structure, you wouldn't need to post a graphic necessarily. You could just put up the front page of the league website. I have a website I could put it on for you if you wanted. If you do want to post just a picture, that shouldn't be too hard. All you need to do is, while running OOTP, hold ALT and press the PRINT SCREEN button. Then open any sort of graphics editor like the Paint program and paste the picture there (Ctrl+V). Save that as a bmp, gif, or jpeg file and use the manage attachments button on these forums to add the pic to your post. Let me know if that doesn't work for you.

Also, I wanted to say that I think you should avoid using the Ultimate Hitter's Workout. I haven't used it myself, but it sounds like it probably makes the game too easy. I don't know what difficulty you decided to play the game on, but it seems to me Davey's doing fine with whatever workout you have him on now, so I think it would make for a more interesting story to leave it as is. I'd much rather read about someone who had to work hard to be one of the best players in the game than someone who just dominates it. Plus, we wouldn't want the rumors of 'roid use floating around!

[Tib]

Originally Posted by AdmiralACF

As for the league structure, you wouldn't need to post a graphic necessarily. You could just put up the front page of the league website. I have a website I could put it on for you if you wanted. If you do want to post just a picture, that shouldn't be too hard. All you need to do is, while running OOTP, hold ALT and press the PRINT SCREEN button. Then open any sort of graphics editor like the Paint program and paste the picture there (Ctrl+V). Save that as a bmp, gif, or jpeg file and use the manage attachments button on these forums to add the pic to your post. Let me know if that doesn't work for you.

Also, I wanted to say that I think you should avoid using the Ultimate Hitter's Workout. I haven't used it myself, but it sounds like it probably makes the game too easy. I don't know what difficulty you decided to play the game on, but it seems to me Davey's doing fine with whatever workout you have him on now, so I think it would make for a more interesting story to leave it as is. I'd much rather read about someone who had to work hard to be one of the best players in the game than someone who just dominates it. Plus, we wouldn't want the rumors of 'roid use floating around!

I'll try your photo posting suggestion. It sounds easy enough for me to understand. If it works I can post some of the team pages, too, so everyone can see the logos, managers, stadium names and such. Might make things more realistic.

As for the UHW, Dave's not the kind of guy who would get deep into things like steroids or anything illegal. He might try some protein or energy drinks, but he'd never shoot up. The "performance enhancing" issue will be a large part of a future storyline and it will affect some of Dave's friends. But I'm giving away too much... It's hard not to spill the beans when there's so many fantastic fist-clenching, seat-grabbing developments ahead.

So here's what I'll do: I'll finish Dave and Gwen's Bahamas vacation, then I'll work on posting some of the character index and the league structure photo. Then I have to explain all the Knights' off-season personnel changes. Then we'll hit the 2008 season running somewhere around Chapter 38.

[jaxmagicman]

If you don't post a new chapter soon, I might have to leave Guam to track you down!

[Jazzmosis]

Tib, when I post screenshots, I go through this (realitively) simple procedure:

Load OOTP and display the screen you want to see or whatever.

Print Screen.
Open MS Paint.
Ctrl V.
Save As "(filename).bmp" (IF you can save it as JPG it's better, but I've never been able to do that with MS paint.. so I convert it, but I'll leave that out as it's not important).
Go to this site: http://imageshack.us/
Get the image from wherever I saved it to. (Hopefully the .bmp is smaller than 1 meg, if not, you'll have to convert. Which I'd gladly do for you if you don't know how.. PM me if you're interested)
Go to the "direct link to the image". Copy that.
Paste on OOTP.

It'll show up as a link, which for the most part saves bandwidth. If you want to images to show up right in the post, just put in the [img][/img] tags on.

Viola! Images!

(Granted this looks complex, but it's fairly easy.)

[Tib]

I think I understand this process more since I got photobucket. Thanks for the clarification. I'll take your offer as proof of interest in seeing some CBA and ABF league graphics. I think the link idea is a good one.

Incidentally, the rest of the Bahamas trip has become its own chapter. I'm fighting for the right ending, but I'm very close. If not today, tomorrow for sure.

[Tib]

Looks like it'll be today! What a monster this thing was. It'll be posted in two parts, one today and one tomorrow. Thanks to everybody for waiting.

And to Jax: Guam down, here's your chapter.

[Tib]

Chapter 36

A Highly Irregular Day

I was too nervous to eat. I was too nervous to drink my mimosa. I was too nervous to do anything but drum on my thighs with my knife and fork. We made small talk about getting ready to leave later that day and what we had time left to do. She was excited. She wanted to go down to the marina for lunch. She wanted to finish up some shopping. She wanted to go snorkeling if there was time. I was beginning to sweat. I just wanted to give her the ring and get it over with.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“Yeah, why?”
“I don’t know. You look sick. Are you sick?”
“No.”
“Well eat something, then. It’s airline food for dinner tonight, you know.”
“Yeah. Look, I want to say something.”
She looked up from her omelet.
“I --, I want to tell you how great it’s been here with you this week,” I began.
“I’m so glad we got a chance to get away,” she said. “This has been the best week I’ve ever had. I love you for taking me here. Of course, I love you anyway,” she said with a smile.
“I love you, too,” I said, as a droplet of sweat slid down around the corner of my eye.

I got up from the table and made my way over to my suitcase. “I think over the last three years we’ve really come a long way.” I opened it as smoothly as I could. Her back was to me and I didn’t want her turning around. I reached in for the doll, making sure to turn my head so my voice would come from the same spot. I was a sly one. Yes indeed, I had all my bases covered.

“I made it all the way to the Bigs and you’ve got a new career in broadcasting. And my feelings for you have grown deeper and deeper since the day we first met in Little Rock.”
“Mine, too,” she said, looking out at the ocean. I fished around for the doll.
“So on our last morning here in the Bahamas I wanted to ask you something. It’s something that can’t wait until we get back to the states.” Fishing…fishing…fishing…
“If you want to play golf, go ahead,” she said. “I’m really fine with that. You worked so hard this year and you deserve to have some fun. In fact, I bought you some new golf balls to replace the ones you lost. The guy at the club said they were the best. I put them in your bag.”
“Yeah, okay.” Finally, I had to risk it and look in the suitcase.

The doll was gone.

Oh, there was no mistake. Nope. That doll was gone, gone, gone. It was as if that doll never existed. And now it was as if my $4,500 engagement ring never existed. Oh, there was no mistake. That ring was gone, gone, gone.

“I’m sorry? What did you say?” I stalled.
“I said ‘what were you going to ask me?’”
“Uh, what was I going to ask you?” Oh, my God, my goddamn engagement ring is gone.
“Yes. What were you going to ask me?” said my one-time-bride-to-be.
“I was going to ask you – I was going to ask you…” Then I looked around for the other dolls. Maybe room service put them all back together. No, the other dolls were gone, too. Gone, gone, gone.
“Dave, is something wrong?”
“No! No, uh, I wanted to ask you what you did with those dolls I bought you. I thought you liked them. They’re gone, you know. You knew that, right?”
Gwen blinked exactly four times. “That’s what you wanted to ask me before we left today?”
“Yeah, uh, because if you wanted more or something we could go shopping and get some.”
“Oh. Well, I found a chip in one of them and cracks in two more, so I took them back to the shop and exchanged it for candy bowl made out of seashells.”
“You what?”
“I took them back to the shop. They had plenty more there so they didn’t argue with me. Did you know one was in your suitcase, of all places?”

I didn’t answer. I was already heading for the door, slipping on my sandals and grabbing my wallet, my clubs and golf cap as I went. “Honey, I’ve got to go. I’ve got to do something. It’ll only take a bit. I’ll be right back.”
“What on Earth are you doing?” Gwen called after me.
“I’m, uh, I’m going golfing, just like you said, honey. The pro gave me a free round. Got to get there early to get a tee time. I’ll call you later. You go ahead and go shopping or whatever, okay?”
“Dave, come back here. Don’t go yet. Don’t you want to finish breakfast?”
“Well, I got that free round from that pro that recognized me and a free round is a free round, after all. Plus it’ll bring down the net cost of this trip, you know, and that’s a good thing. I’m trying to be very money conscious these days, very responsible with my money and everything, so go ahead and go shopping and I’ll meet you for lunch. How about that? Lunch here at the hotel? Out on the patio? About one? Sound good? Sounds good to me! Love you, honey! I’ll see you later. Thanks for breakfast!”
“Dave!” she called, but I was gone, running down and out of the hotel into the bright Caribbean sun. I had my wallet, my golf clubs and my pirate hat…. Oh, no. I didn’t grab my golf cap; I grabbed that ridiculous pirate hat Gwen gave me. Who goes golfing in a pirate hat and sandals?

And compared to the rest of my morning, breakfast went really well.

I hailed a cab. I went to the tourist market where I bought the dolls. Leaving my clubs and pirate garb in the cab, I told the cabbie to wait for me. I ran into the store and up to the lady at the counter.
“Did you work here yesterday?”
“Yes, sir. Can I help you?”
“Yes! Yes, you can. Do you remember a very pretty American girl who came in to exchange one of your dolls for a candy bowl?”
“I’m not sure, sir.”
“She’s very pretty, dark hair, dark eyes. She was here only yesterday.”
“No, sir, I’m sorry.”
“She was probably a little pushy.”
A voice rang out from the back. “I remember her. She returned a doll what was broke. She say she want shell bowl. I give it to her in exchange.”
“Yes!” I exclaimed. “Yes, thank you! What did you do with the doll?”
“Is something wrong, sir?” said the lady at the counter.
“Not anymore,” I replied. Victory! “I hid something very valuable inside the littlest doll. A ring. I have to get that ring back.”
The lady behind the counter understood at once. “You propose?”
“Yes,” I said. “Well, no, not yet. But I’m going to as soon as you get that doll for me. I’ll gladly pay for it again.”
“And your ring is inside the doll?”
“Yes. Do you know where the doll is?”
“No, sir.”
“What do you mean? What did you do with it? Ma’am, it’s very important. I have to get that ring back. My girlfriend thinks I’m golfing. I don’t have all day.”
The man in back broke in again. “I know where ‘tis.”
“Thank you! Where?”
“I take you to it. It back here, in back of the shop. You come with me.” Victory!
So I did, out the back of the shop into a tiny alleyway. The big man turned and looked down at me. “This ring. It is valuable, no?”
“Yes,” I said. “Where is it? You said it was back here. There are only boxes and parts of bicycles and animal crap back here.”
“I never said it was back here,” said the man. “I said I knew where ‘tis. And I will tell you. But first: this ring. It is so valuable you would pay to know where it is?”
I see. I think I get it now.
“Here’s twenty American dollars,” I snapped, peeling a bill out of my money clip. “Where is it?”
“It broke. I threw it in the rubbish bin.”
“What rubbish bin?”
“That one.”
“That one’s empty.”
“The rubbish man, he come empty it today.”
“The rubbish man! You’re saying it’s in a garbage truck? What truck? What’s the name of the company?”
Big Man laughed. “No company,” he said. “Just rubbish man. He do it all himself.”
“How long ago did he come by?”
“Maybe three hour.”
“Three hours!” I screamed. “What, at the crack of dawn this guy goes out to pick up garbage? On an island that still uses sundials? He must be the hardest working man in the entire Caribbean!”
Big Man only shrugged. I was going to demand he draw a map of the complete garbage route by hand immediately, but just then I heard the unmistakable release of pneumatic brakes. Glancing up, I saw a puff of brown smoke and heard the acceleration of a diesel engine.
“Is that him? Is that his truck?” I barked, pointing to the only dark spot in the entire sky.
Big Man shrugged and rubbed his bald head. His palm appeared in front of me. “I’m not sure I remember….”
“Forget it! I have a cab! I’ll do it myself!” I ran through the shop and out the door to get into my waiting ---.

The cab was gone. I looked around in horror, hoping to catch a glimpse of a sky blue Honda Accord with a dented yellow quarter panel, but the cab was gone, gone, gone, as if it had never been. My golf clubs were gone with it. My hope of catching the garbage truck was gone, gone, gone like a puff of diesel smoke. The son of a bitch even took my pirate hat.


The thrilling conclusion posts tomorrow....

[Jazzmosis]

Oh, this is pure genius!

[cknox0723]

you know, tib, it would be quite possibly the most hilarious, unexpected end to a dynasty ever if davey got crushed in a trash compactor or murdered by the garbage man or something equally ridiculous.

not that i want that to happen. just sayin' -- imagine the reaction!

[GoCubsAndJays]

Originally Posted by Tib

The son of a bitch even took my pirate hat.

Absolutely brilliant.

[Faroo6]

wonderful again.

[Tib]

Chapter 36: A Highly Irregular Day, the conclusion

I still had my wallet and sandals. I figured I could either buy my way across town or run. I ran. I followed the trail of diesel smoke, cutting across alleys when I could, trying to catch sight of the garbage truck. It was still making stops and I found myself gaining on it. I finally caught sight of it just as it was pulling away from a restaurant. I tried desperately to flag it down, but it had the jump on me. This time it didn’t stop. I stood in the street, watching breathlessly as the dun-colored contraption bounced its way down a small hill and turned a corner toward the inland road.

Now what?

I became aware of someone next to me. It was a boy, maybe ten, on a bicycle. I hadn’t noticed him ride up behind me. He stared at me like I was today’s entertainment, and perhaps I was. “Why you need that truck, monsieur?
“There’s something very important in it.”
“What it is?”
“A ring. A very valuable ring.” I said as I sat on the ground beside him.
“A ring? Like a treasure?”
“Yes, yes, like a treasure. And now it’s gone, buried under two tons of fruit rinds and cigar butts.”
“Buried treasure? Like a pirate?”
“Exactly. And I’ll never get it back.”
“You have money?”
“What?”
“You pay me. I get ring. Like a pirate. I get your buried treasure back.”
“Thanks anyway, kid. That truck is long gone. You’ll never catch it, even on your bicycle. Besides, I don’t even know where it’s going.”
“It’s going to the new golf course,” said the boy.

I turned slowly and took a very good look at the boy. “You know where it’s going? How do you know where it’s going?” I asked.
“Because every rubbish truck go there to dump in the big hole to make the new golf course.”
“A landfill? It’s going to a landfill?” I said excitedly. I jumped up and grabbed him by the arms. “Where? Where is the landfill?”
“Inland. Two kilometers. On the sun side.”
“Excellent! Thank you! You saved my life!” Victory!
“Not really, monsieur.”
“What do you mean?”
“There are lots of trucks there,” he explained. “Lots of roads. Lots of piles to check for your treasure.”
My heart sank. “You’re right. I’ll never find it.”
“I can find it, monsieur.”
“How? How can you find it?”
“The truck. He is my uncle.”
“What do you mean the truck is your uncle? That makes no sense!”
“He is my uncle, the truck. The rubbish is my uncle.”
“The rubbish man is your uncle? You can find him?”
“Yes, monsieur.”
“Great! Let’s go.”
“For twenty dollars.”
“Twenty --? Not you too?”
“I see you gave the other man twenty dollars.”
I peeled off another twenty. “Fine. Here. Let’s go.”

I hailed another cab and in minutes we were at the landfill, a scarred brown hillside pockmarked with giant craters filled to various capacities with garbage. Ironically, my hastily invented destination of the morning -- Pirate Bay Golf Club -- was adjacent. The boy, whose name was Milo, directed me expertly to his uncle’s truck. It was pulling away from one particularly big hole when we stopped him. I told him my story.
“Sure, I tell you where I dumped it,” he said, scratching his head. “If I can somehow remember….”
“Fine! Here’s a twenty! Now tell me!” I snapped.

Soon I was there with Milo in tow. I told him what to look for. Together we clawed our way through knee high garbage for almost an hour until I heard him say, “Monsieur! Monsieur! I find it!” I turned and saw him holding the doll aloft like it was Excalibur itself. I ran to him, kicking garbage into the air with every stride. At last I had it in my hands.

I twisted the doll heads open and tossed them aside like a sadistic toymaker. The littlest doll was not there. What the hell --? Then it hit me. Big Man. Of course! He has the littlest doll! He had my ring! He must have found it when Gwen turned in the doll. He’s probably pawning it right now! And I’m standing waist deep in refuse. I had to get back to the shop, but how?

And in the next breath it was all clear to me. Milo and I trudged across six hundred yards of acrid landfill, up the ninth fairway and into the Pirate Bay pro shop. People stared at us but I didn’t care. I was on a treasure hunt.
“I want to rent a cart,” I said to the starter, a rail-thin islander in a pink polo shirt. His nametag said Benny.
Benny looked at me like I just crawled out of a sewage pipe, which was not entirely inaccurate.
“How many holes are you playing today, Monsieur?”
“None. I just want the cart.”
Benny did not approve. “I am sorry, monsieur, but carts are for golfers only.”
“I am a golfer. I’m here to play. Now give me a cart.”
Benny craned his reed-like neck over the counter. My sandals made his nose twitch with displeasure.
“The club requires golf shoes, monsieur,” he said.
“Yeah, they’re in my car.”
“And your socks?”
“In the car.”
“I see,” he said skeptically. “And your clubs?”
“Car.”
“Would the gentleman like to freshen up before his round? Perhaps a not-so-soiled shirt would suit you better?”
“What do you mean? This is a Tommy Hilfiger.”
“Of course, sir, but it is a Tommy Hilfiger with a piece of banana peel in the left front pocket and stains of unknown origin on the sleeve, shoulder and somehow on the back. Would the gentleman like to purchase a new shirt for his round today?”
“No, the gentleman does not want a new shirt. The gentleman wants his cart now, please.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” said the little pain in the ass, gesturing toward Milo, “but all players must have proper attire and clubs of their own.”
“You mean him? He’s my caddy.”
Benny had clearly had enough of this charade. “Sir, this young man is not employed by this club, I assure you. I shall have him removed at once.”
“He’s my personal caddy,” I said sharply.
“I shall have to check with my manager,” said Benny, picking up the phone. I slammed two hundred dollars on the counter.
“One for the club, one for you,” I said.
Benny looked about nervously. “This is highly irregular, sir.”
I slammed another hundred down. “Make it regular.”

[Tib]

As I hit the accelerator on our golf cart I said a little prayer that there was enough juice in it to get me back to town. We raced through the parking lot and turned left onto the road. As we did, we passed a familiar sky blue Honda Accord with a dented yellow quarter panel. My former cabbie-turned-thief was standing on the side of the road showing my clubs to a potential buyer. The son of a bitch was wearing my pirate hat. Before I could spin the cart around, the cabbie saw me. He threw my clubs into the trunk, got in the car and sped off down the road. All he left was the pirate hat. I grabbed it as we whizzed past, cursing all the way.

We followed as fast as the little cart could go and slid to a halt in front of the tourist shop. The cabbie was nowhere to be seen. I marched into the store and up to Big Man. I didn’t have to say a word.
He was clearly surprised to see me again. “I --, I told you before. I don’t have it,” he explained.
I stared him down as Milo, my intrepid young companion, said, “You told him it was in the garbage, but we looked in the garbage and it wasn’t there. Where it is? Did you sell it?”

I must have been quite a sight. I was filthy from head to toe. I hadn’t shaved in almost two days. My sandals were soaked with a horrid-smelling mixture of garbage and mud. My once-orange shirt was brown with sweat and grime. I stunk to high heaven and I was unabashedly pissed off. Not to mention the ridiculous pirate hat on my head.
“Sir, please,” Big Man said. “I didn’t sell it, I swear. I didn’t even look inside the doll. I just threw it out. I swear. I’m sorry.”
“If you’re lying I’m coming back for your head,” I warned him. Turning on one heel I marched out of the shop.
“Should we take a cab back to the hotel, sir?” said Milo.
“No,” I spat. “No more cabs.”
“So what do we do?”
“Well, Milo, my boy, we look for a needle in a hay--.”
And there he was.

“A needle in the hay? That don’t make no sense, monsieur. I think you better lie down.”
“Shh!”
It was him alright, standing at the counter of a curio shop across the street, talking with a clerk. He had my clubs with him. I saw him lift a five iron, my five iron, and show it to the clerk. I took off running and didn’t stop. He saw me coming when I was about fifteen feet from him, but there was nothing he could do. I was a professional baseball player. I stole 17 bases last season. He was done the moment I laid eyes on him.

I figure I was moving at about an 80-90% clip when I left my feet. I’m sure it was the most violent two-man out of control cartwheel any of the witnesses had ever seen. We went spinning through two displays, crashed over a table filled with crockery, and tumbled right through a reed wall into a side alley. I popped up first. He stayed down.

“Steal a man’s golf clubs, huh?” I growled. “I oughta take your head off!”
The cabbie rolled over and looked up at me in total horror. He put his hands in front of him.
“Don’ kill me, sir!” he pleaded. “Please don’ kill me!”
It was then I noticed the machete in my hand. Funny, I don’t remember there being a machete for sale, but when you’re a middle infielder and you go rolling on the ground for any reason, you’re bound to come up with something.

The store owner spoke from behind me. “These are your golf clubs?”
“Tell him,” I said to the cabbie.
“Yes! Yes! I stole them! Please don’t let him kill me!”
I dropped the machete, picked up my pirate hat, and slammed it on my head. “I’m not going to kill you. I’m going to take my clubs and go back to my hotel and leave this accursed island and never return! This has been the worst day of my life!” I stared down the crowd, daring anyone to say one word. Not one mouth opened. Satisfied, I swung the golf bag onto my shoulder and stomped out. As I passed the owner I slapped another C-note on the counter to pay for the damages.
“This is highly irregular,” he said as I passed.
“Tell me about it,” I called back.

I hit the steps to the Grand Patio Restaurant at exactly 1:00 PM. Well, I thought, that’s one thing I did right today. I stopped at the top to look for Gwen. Heads turned. I heard snickers. Someone whispered something about the smell.

I trudged forward, my clubs click-clacking at my side. I had somehow lost a sandal, probably in the cartwheel part of my all-out assault on the cab driver. It was okay, though, because my other sandal more than made up for the embarrassment with the stench of fresh Caribbean garbage. The right pocket of my shorts was ripped. It hung like a dog’s ear and bounced on my thigh. My shirt pocket was torn and the banana peel was gone. So was my left sleeve. I could feel the sea air on my left buttock.

Someone stood up in the back. It was Gwen. She had her hands over her mouth as if to stifle a scream. Or to keep from laughing, I couldn’t be sure. I shuffled over to her. As I got closer I realized that, yes, it was indeed laughter she was choking back. For a moment we just stood there across the table. She stared at me with something like regret on her face. I stared back with righteous clarity. Without a word I let the golf bag crash to the ground.

“How was your round, honey?” she said meekly.

“Ah, humor,” I said as I nodded at her. “You think this is funny, somehow. You, who have no idea what I just went through. You, who had to return those dolls for a what? A what? A candy bowl made of seashells? Seashells, for the love of God!”

Now we had an audience. Did I care? Do those who walk the plank care what color the water is?
“Dave --,” began Gwen, but I was on a roll.
“I have spent the morning tracking down your precious dolls, my dear. I have chased after garbage trucks, waded through great mounds of refuse, and bribed numerous individuals, including an innocent boy, I might add! I’ve had my golf clubs stolen. I’ve been doused with landfill juice. I’ve driven a golf cart at dangerously high speed, only to return to your little shop and find the littlest doll wasn’t even in there!”
“Dave --,” said Gwen, but I was still rolling.
“Five minutes ago I spotted the cabbie who stole my clubs, Gwen. Do you know what I did? I tackled him at full speed and threatened to cut his head off with a machete! I just lost an engagement ring because you couldn’t live with a couple of cracks in a ten dollar novelty item, and you can stand there and ask me how my round went? I’ll tell you how it went: it was the most expensive round in golf history! And I hope you enjoy your candy bowl because it just cost me forty-five hundred dollars!”
“Yes, Dave, I’ll marry you.”
She held up her hand and there was the ring, glimmering like a star on her finger.

I became curiously calm. I think it was sort of like when a really crazy person suddenly and for no reason becomes incredibly lucid. “Where did you get that?” I asked, arms crossed, finger on chin.
Nervously, with her hands shaking, Gwen began to explain. “I found the doll in your suitcase when I was packing. I looked inside and saw the ring. It was an accident. I didn’t mean to see it, but it was in there. I took it and hid the doll in your golf bag. I was going to surprise you this morning by having the ring on my finger. I told you I bought golf balls so you would look in the bag and see it. But when you found out the doll was gone, you panicked and bolted before I could stop you. I ran down after you but you were already in the cab. Dave, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for things to go this way. I’ve ruined everything.”

She was beginning to cry now and that was worse than everything I’d just endured put together. “It’s all right, Gwen,” I said, moving around the table to her. “I didn’t plan this thing out very well, I guess. You’re the most important thing in my life and I wanted everything today to be perfect. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to make your dreams come true, Gwen, you know that.”
“I know,” she said with a tearful smile.
Then it hit me.
“What did you just say?”
“I said ‘I know’.”
“No, before that.”
“I said I ruined everything.”
“No, no. Before that.”
“I said ‘yes, Dave, I will marry you’.”
“That’s what I thought you said.”
And we kissed, right there on the Grand Patio in front of everyone. It was the second best kiss I ever gave her.
“Ewww, what’s this in your pocket?” she said when we were done.
“Let’s go upstairs and find out,” I said.
“Not that,” she said. “This.”
“I think it’s a banana peel.”


Next time, Chapter 37: Certain Economic Realities

[GoCubsAndJays]

Yay... congrats Dave!

[Jazzmosis]

Ah, you painted such a vivid image of how this all went down. . . you, Tib, are a literary god.

[Y0DA55]

Tib... amazing amazing amazing work.

[jaxmagicman]

That has to be one of the funniest chapters I have ever read.

[Faroo6]

that was awesome...

[Tauro]

tremendous.... well done Tib.