Monday May 16, 2005
	At the city fair and I'm trying to impress her with my fastball.
	She's new to me and there's a small carnival in the tiny Florida town.  "This is kinda creepy," she says, then smiling. I like it when she smiles and her smile reminds of a Rochester woman I dated a long time ago and sometimes, I still miss her.   I've parked my vintage Cadillac near the city library and it's 10:30 at night and we're walking toward the fair and it's kinda dark. "I thought fairs were bright and flashy," she says. "Me too," I say. Of course there's rides but the light bulbs screwed into them seem, dim.  Yes, they're flashing and they're red and blue and yellow and green but they're not bright like you'd expect and they even blink kinda slow. "Let's go into the haunted house," she says.  The haunted house ain't much.  There's some spooky stuff painted onto the exterior and they're pumping spooky sounds out of the Radio Shack speakers and there's even a skeleton hanging from a thick frayed rope.  A thin, coughing man of about 35 is standing near the console with all the buttons.   While I'm standing there one of the cars comes out of the haunted house and a very overweight man is sitting in it and his head is down and I figure he's either asleep or drunk or dead. "Let's head over there," I say. I'm thinking: There's one of those baseball throwing things.  I'll throw the ball really fast and she'll see how awesome I am when the radar gun reports that my ball traveled 90 miles an hour.  Yeah.  Perfect.  Now's your chance to impress the hell out of her.  Walk up there with authority, like you coulda been a professional ball player and put a ball in your hand and rifle it past that radar gun.  Go for 90 miles an hour.  That's the speed they throw in the big leagues.  90 should do it.  She'll see that and she'll be in awe and you'll have her, Norman.  You'll have her.  You'll be balling by midnight.    I stop at the pitching thing and I pay ($3 for one ball) and she says: "Did you play baseball, Norm?" "I could have gone pro," I say then throwing the ball. I didn't throw the ball 90 miles an hour.  I threw it 42 and when I threw it I heard a lot of bones crack and something in my neck made a noise and my arm has gone numb and I'm experiencing a good amount of pain and even my ears are ringing but I don't want her to see what I am experiencing so I smile and turn around and she isn't standing there.  Shit.  I'm one step away from calling a f-ckin' ambulance and she wasn't even watching.  Jesus it hurts.  What the hell was I thinking?  Lord, I've had it.  What an awakening.  I throw like a, like a chick.  Worse than a chick, even.  My body is failing me.  'Bout the only f-ckin' thing my arm is good for is whacking off.  Jesus, what an awakening.  I can't feel my fingers and even my jaw hurts.  I need some aspirin and a bed.  Yeah, that would do it.  Five, six days in bed and aspirin.  I wonder if I'm internally bleeding.  I could be internally bleeding. Lord, I've had it.   "How'd you do, Norm?" says my date.  She's holding two corndogs and hands me one of them. "Let's go into the haunted house," I say. PREVIOUS   HOME   NEXT