9th Plate Appearance

Adam has eaten his favorite cookie - a Chewy Charlie - and is feeling much better. His step to the batter's box has the undeniable bounce of a boy's. What is this mind of man!

Adam faces another unfamiliar face, Perez, but Adam is feeling friendly. Instead of hitting 5 ding-a-longs at once, Adam settles for a walk.

Hello world! says the man-child's beaming face.

8th Plate Appearance

The residents of Cleavy-land have fled the stands. Nobody gives a shit.

Ozymandias has consoled the troubled Achilles. "Jus' heet dee ball, man." Says he, in a charming Spaniolo trill. Adam nods, steps into the batter's box, and lays Thunderhammerbat against his shoulder.

A slider. A changeup. A ball crushed to right field and caught by ... Choo? Choo? Choo? Where am I? WHERE AM I GODDAMMIT! Adam calls to heaven. He weeps.

7th Plate Appearance

existential crisis

"So", says big-butted Adam. "I have received a ball. Now I have received a strike." Does this mean? Does it change my life or others, or is it but a pebble in a flowing river of events?

While Adam contemplates, home plate umpire Fatty says "ball four" and our pained centerpiece shuffles to first.

6th Plate Appearance

Adam digs in for a long at bat. Yoiks! Not so!

He grounds out, but sends a black pixie to the plate - a Ribbie Dibbie. The Sox of Chicagoland congratulate our hero. Just smile and nod, Adam. Smile and fucking nod.

5th Plate Appearance

The sound and the fury, signifying nothing, has ebbed. Adam slept the night in a new home, in a new bed, with a new sexual liason. His mind is clear, his body primed. THUNDERHAMMERBAT is warm to this man-god's familiar touch.

A small man - Stumpy? - is at first. Adam dozes for a few pitches, then knocks a single to right.

The blood of the Norse surges through Adam's veins. BETTER TO HAVE DIED IN BATTLE, says he.

4th Plate Appearance

In Doctor Fausto's absence, Justin Germano climbs the honorable mound. Yea, he steps with honor to the cloud-darkened rubber, where once--

whoops! Adam swung at the first pitch and lobbed it to center field. The Indians defense barely makes the catch.

Ozymandias tells Adam he's through for the day. Some bozo will pinch-designated-hit the rest of this game.

Well, now, what could a blonde beast do with an empty dugout and no more at-bats?

FIE!

3rd Plate Appearance

A cloud is descending over Cleveland. Their hometown heroes are getting whip-wiped all over the place. Is this already another lost year? Are we to expect a cruel summer-winter of crystal-shattered hopes?

Adam looks on this and laughs his tushie off. What fools there be in Cleveland!

Look, o Adam, the Fates must deem this perdition just for the Clevelanders; heavy must be the debt they owe the gods; for lo! herenow the bases are JUICED.

Beckham, Pierre, and Mushroom Morel stand at the bases, pointed toward Adam as at an idol. Doctor Fausto, beset on all sides, groans under the weight of the cloud.

Whip-whap goes Adam's bat, and he knocks a double off the right field wall.

Begone, Doctor Fausto! Peradventure in the locker room you will rue whatever blight-besotted bargain you struck to curse your city so.

2nd Plate Appearance

The dugout is like a cage to Adam. It itches at him; he feels it closing against his shoulders. He tries to watch the game, but can't keep from twitching any time a grounder goes toward first.

Ozymandias regards him with a pepper eye. "What, you got to pee or something?"

Adam shakes his head. He picks up his big-ass bat and strikes a pensive pose.

Soon it is time to warm up in the on-deck circle. Thick little Beckham dinks a single, and Thunderhammerbat crackles in Adam's hands. RBI HUNGER.

At first pitch from Doctor Fausto, Adam gives a big, deep, nasty whiff. "Like this!" he says to THB.

Fausto's scared. He dicks around the zone for a few. And then he floats a wussy little changeup down the middle. Are you kidding...

GOTTERDAMMERUNG!! Adam puts that ball in the trashcan beyond the right field fence. You want that souvenir you got to go GARBAGE DIGGING.

Handshakes all around in the dugout. Adam sits on the bench and the bleakness of idleness bums him out.

1st Plate Appearance

HPU Mike Winters beckons Adam to the batters box. Reeling, Adam obliges, and faces the mysterious Doctor Fausto.

The thick-elf Beckham has poked himself a double; sage Juan Pierre hovers at third. THE STAGE IS SET.

Adam Dunn squints at the weak Cleveland sun. He is still groggy from his transformation; a strike sneaks past him. So too do three balls, and a second strike. Is Adam asleep out there?

Adam! Awaken ye to baseball!

Too late! He swung at a little stinker outside. Opening K!

Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!

Adam wakes as if from a dream. He is in some strange locker room, lit by strange light, smelling of strange odors. Something scuttles in the corner. Adam grabs Thunderhammerbat to strike it--it is a man. Or, some weasel-like simulacrum of a man. A HOMUNCULUS, it seems. Adam withholds Thunderhammerbat, and watches with wonder as the HOMUNCULUS straps on the catcher's gear.

So, there is baseball in this place?

Adam dutifully dresses in his new uniform, wary for ambush. He follows the men through the clubhouse. Little Zimmy is nowhere to be seen.

Avast! Some man claims Adam's station at first base! Adam will not play defense? What, is he to sit idly between innings, juggling Thunderhammerbat like a toy? Is he to play only half a game of baseball?

Ozymandias crouches in the corner. A towel is draped over his shoulders. He laughs and chews gum at the same time.

What is this wicked, bewildering world?