Monday, April 13, 2009
God's Gift to Mankind Discounts Any Injury
This word, tendonitis - when applied to me, that is - is a farce. Doctors say I'm suffering from it. The funny thing is, I don't "suffer". I enjoy. I love. I wallow. I indulge. I allow. I satiate. But I do not suffer. The last person that hinted that I was "suffering" from something, ended up suffering for a very, very long time in a very, very painful way. From what? Let's just say, it was unpleasant.
(makes fist with right hand)
(makes circle with thumb to index finger on left hand)
(pushes entire arm through hole)
But I do not feel sorry for myself. Team doctors are keeping me out of the lineup because of the rage I harbor, not because of some injury. At any moment - until this "tendonitis" speak subsides - I'm liable to skewer a pitcher with a finely cut piece of Ash. That's ugly. And I'd rather not have to hear those haunting screams again.
(absorbs cheers from crowd)
Give it a day, my fair compatriots. In a day or so, I will show what it means to be an offensive juggernaut. I will show you why I was pegged as the man who will mercilessly destroy and slaughter opposing pitchers. This is a promise, friends. Now move along, I'm getting tired of your company, and I need to practice the acceptance speech that will bring the house down when I'm congratulating myself at my Hall of Fame induction.