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.
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