Baseball Dads: Sex, Drugs, Murder, Children's Baseball Part 38

Dwayne looked through the chain link fence at the backstop behind home plate. The b.l.o.o.d.y bodies of Chip Conner, Reese Pepper, Ed Snyder, Tiffany Blaine, and Linda Honeycut sat upright on the bottom row of the bleachers, as if they were some jacked-up cheering section from the afterlife.

Tommy and Russ walked up to the top row of seating, above and behind the corpses. They lit a joint and watched as Dwayne made his way off the field and over to the stands. Dave and Uzi walked out onto the field to dig holes beneath first, second, and third base. Dwayne rested the bat on his shoulder. His other arm hung limp, with his hand gripping the chainsaw. He was ready to address his blank-eyed, lifeless, hemorrhaging audience.

"h.e.l.lo, you arrogant f.u.c.ks," Dwayne announced. "Glad you could join me here tonight."

He paced back and forth, selecting each word as if he were an executioner condemning prisoners to death. Tommy and Russ sat transfixed. They hung on Dwayne's every word.

"You had the option in your lives not to become the pieces of s.h.i.+t that you became," he preached. "And yet you became those pieces of s.h.i.+t anyway. You spent your lives sitting in judgment of others. Your social circles were just f.u.c.ked up neighborhood torture chambers. And you had the gall to bring baseball into it. You are nothing more than bullying little c.o.c.kroaches and wh.o.r.es."

Dwayne paused and beamed at each dead socialite. He smiled with a wild psychotic look in his eyes. He took a deep breath, and then resumed his lecture.

"And I am here today to notify you that your sentences have been handed down from the baseball G.o.ds ... to be carried out by me, the grand Jedi master ninja motherf.u.c.ker with the chainsaw and the bat."

Dwayne lifted the bat from his shoulder and swung it down with all his might upon the already disfigured head of Chip Conner. Blood splattered up on Dwayne's face. Chip's head caved in. Blood poured from his ears.

"PAY ATTENTION, YOU f.u.c.kS!" he screamed.

Dwayne was breathing heavily. There was nothing at all hidden about his rage. It had come fully to the surface, and there was no squas.h.i.+ng the festering, pent-up fury now. The eruption was an all-out explosion. He tossed the bat to the side and pulled the cord on the chainsaw. The chainsaw came rumbling to life. It was roaring, hungry for blood. Dwayne lifted it over his head.

"Chip Conner, Reese Pepper, and Ed Snyder. You disrespected my wife. You disrespected me. And you disrespected the purity of America's game. I hereby sentence you to be decapitated and dismembered, and spend eternity rotting beneath the bases of Jenny Field. I would put your heads on spikes at the entrance to the field if I thought I could get away with it. But justice will be served regardless. May G.o.d have mercy on your vacant souls."

Dwayne placed the chainsaw at the base of Chip Conner's neck. Blood sprayed in all directions as the rotating blades worked their way through skin, spine, and ligaments. Within seconds, the chainsaw emerged on the other side, and Chip Conner's head rolled off his shoulders, bounced off the bench seat, and came to a rest inches from Dwayne's feet.

The same fate fell upon Reese and Ed. Dwayne's clothing was soaked entirely through with blood. It dripped down his arms, trickled onto the chainsaw, and was launched into the dank evening air from the spinning chain.

He approached Tiffany Blaine and Linda Honeycut, again raising the loud, violent piece of machinery over his head.

"Linda and Tiffany ... You and your minions made my homelife almost unlivable for years. You tainted the spirit of my beautiful wife for too long. But you can't have her. She's back in my arms. Gone are the days when you could look down upon those with less. Gone are the days when you could spend your days stabbing people in the back with your incessant vile gossip. Gone are the days when you could cast judgments while cloaked beneath the banner of G.o.d. You are contemptible, repugnant, noxious stains on this earth, and I am the motherf.u.c.king industrial-strength cleaner that's here to wipe you up. I hereby sentence you to decapitation and dismemberment, to spend eternity being talked about while unable to respond as you decompose beneath the bases of Jenny Field."

Dwayne dug the chainsaw first into Tiffany's neck, and then into Linda's. The first four rows of the bleachers were bright red. On the ground, surrounding Dwayne's feet, lay the heads of the elite members of Fort Worth society.

Dwayne then carved up the bodies like five large Thanksgiving turkeys. When he had finally finished, he was left wading through a pile of arms, legs, heads, and torsos behind the backstop of his favorite field.

Russ and Tommy watched in silent wonder as Dwayne turned off the chainsaw and wiped the blood from his eyes.

"That was f.u.c.king crazy, bro," Tommy muttered. "You okay, Dwayne?"

Dwayne looked around, wild-eyed, with a half smile on his face. He was trembling. His ears were still ringing from the roar of the chainsaw.

"Dwayne? You good?" Tommy asked again.

Dwayne flashed a huge grin. "Get the wheelbarrow, boys. Let's load 'em up."

Dwayne was the last member of the Jedi Alliance to be dropped home that night. Russ wrote Uzi a check for a tip: $10,000. He wrote another for Dave-$5,000 just to keep his s.h.i.+t together. They had earned every penny. Dave and Uzi had busted their a.s.ses. They had dug holes, buried bodies, and gotten the field back in shape for the playoffs.

The bases looked nothing short of fantastic. First, second, and third were impeccable. Everything was level, and the softened up dirt would cause fewer injuries when the kids slid into base. Dwayne felt as though he'd provided a service to the baseball players of Jenny Field.

And that was before anyone took into consideration how great the pitcher's mound now sat, or how green the gra.s.s in the outfield had been growing. Seven bodies being sacrificed to the baseball G.o.ds at the field might have been just what the ballpark needed.

Dwayne walked through the door to his home, dripping wet from having blood, dirt, and bone fragments hosed off him. His phone quacked.

RUSS:.

Has anyone seen Jade?

STEVE:.

Jesus. Tell me you didn't off her too.

DAVE:.

Cant txt n ride modorsicle.

DWAYNE:.

We dropped her off with Kelly, remember?

DAVE:.

Feeld looks good.

STEVE:.

Please take me off of this text chain.

DWAYNE:.

Field looks great, Dave. Can't wait to play on it.

STEVE:.

Please take me off of this text chain.

RUSS:.

Oh yeah. Man, I was out of it. Tommy? Is Jade at your house?

TOMMY:.

RUSS:.

Oh lord.

STEVE:.

LOL.