Seventh Inning Stretch

“Thank you for seeing me, Mr. Jacobs. I know that you’re incredibly busy right now, so I really appreciate it.”

“Yeah, it’s a madhouse here, but I can give you five minutes. What can I do for you?”

“Well, first, let me congratulate your team on winning the American League championship.”

“Thank you.”

“As chief of security for the stadium, you must have your hands full preparing to host the first couple games of the World Series next week.”

“Yeah, as I said, a madhouse. You got four minutes left, kid.”

“Well, let me get right to the point then.”

“Good idea.”

“I’m going to run naked – streak, that is – around the bases during the seventh inning stretch of the first game.”

“The hell.”

“And you’re going to make sure that I get all the way around the bases.”

“The hell. But I repeat myself. Why in the world would I let you get away with that?”

“Because I’ll give you a million dollars if I succeed.”

“The h… Uh, a million bucks? You kiddin’ me?”

“No sir. I’m dead serious.”

“OK, no offense now kid, but you don’t look like someone who’s got a million bucks to give away just so you can feel the breeze blowin’ across all your pieces”

“Well, you’re right. I don’t. Today. But next week I will. As long as I streak around those bases.”

“Hold on; I wanna get this straight. You come in here lookin’ like you live paycheck to paycheck, offerin’ me a million bucks to let you streak around the bases, but you don’t give me the loot until after? Please. Explain how that works.”

“Of course. I take it you’ve heard of Edna Meecham?”

“The rich old broad who owns half the office buildings in downtown? Sure, I know the name. Crazy as a loon, I hear. Or she was, anyway. I heard she died last week, right?”

“Yeah. And they read her will today.”

“No kiddin’. And what does that have to do with this business of you wagglin’ your pieces in front of every baseball fan in the world?”

“Everything, Mr. Jacobs, everything. Here, I have a copy of her will. Please take a look. There’s a lot of legal mumbo-jumbo, but I highlighted the relevant parts for you.”

“Sure. Let’s see: ‘I Edna Meecham, being of sound mind…’, now that’s a laugh! OK, yeah, yeah, I see… Uh-huh; mmm…uh-huh, whoa! And that’s you – the nephew?”

“In the flesh. Sorry, no pun intended.”

“And if you don’t…?”

“Second to last page.”

“Wait – is he the same…”

“Yep. Same Wilfred that owns the team you’re about to play.”

“Sheesh – what an asshole.”

“You’re not kidding. Try growing up around him.”

“A million bucks, huh?”

“Yep. What do you say?”

“Well, I say we’d better get planning.”


The prompt that inspired this piece of flash fiction can be found here.

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