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.

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!

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.

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?