Wednesday, April 22, 2015

True Grit -- A Serialized Novel: Chapter One: Fear and Loathing and Piranhas

Explanatory Note:
Nick Punto was released by the A’s on December 19th, 2014.  No new news surfaced, until, on January 7th, 2015 it was reported he had signed a minor league contract with the Diamondbacks.  Yet on the fateful day of February 20th, 2015, it was announced that he would not be attending spring training, and would be sitting out the rest of the season, “to spend time with his family”.  Some believe that this was simply Punto waiting to retire in order to collect the 2.75 million dollars the A’s still owed him.  But that’s what he wants you to think.  The truth is, Nick Punto has some old scores, and he’s been fixin’ to settle them for a while.  Nick Punto is not “spending time with his family”, he, along with one or more accomplices, are out there, right now, and they’re hungry for revenge.  In the process, they might just save baseball. This is that story.

They were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold. Punto had smoked a J to try and calm his nerves, but it wasn’t helping.  The 77’ Firebird screamed across the California desert. The thirsty V8 roared under the hood as the car accelerated to over 90 mph.  Nick Punto’s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel.  The air screamed in through the opened window, and Punto was reminded of the time Elvis Andrus dared him to touch Adrian Beltre’s head.  The speedometer needle edged passed 100 mph, but Punto kept his eyes fastened to the road, and his foot to the floor.  Jason Bartlett suddenly snapped into consciousness in the passenger seat.
“Oh shit oh shit oh shit!”  Bartlett started yelling in a panicked voice, sweat beading down his forehead.  He paused for a second, as it all came rushing back to him.  He continued with his panicked screaming.   “Why would they do this? JESUS!”  Punto’s hand shot from the steering wheel and connected with Bartlett’s cheekbone with a sharp crack.
“Shut up!  Shut the FUCK up!” Punto shouted, his eyes flashing angrily behind aviator sunglasses, “You know goddam well why it happened.  It’s been going on for years, and we’ve been too ignorant to stop it. Now they’ve caught up with us.  And we need to do something about it.”
“How could they do this to him?  He still had a good year or two left!”  Bartlett glanced towards a body-shaped lump in the back seat, but quickly averted his eyes.
Punto shook his head in reply.  He reached over and popped open the glove compartment. “You can’t reason with evil, Bartlett.  That’s why I want you to have this.”  He reached in and pulled out two polished Sig Sauer handguns.  He tucked one into his own waistband, and offered the other to Bartlett.
“Holy shit Nick!”
“Here, take it.”
“No way, Nick,” Bartlett said, backing up against the passenger window, “I’ve got a, a family.”
“Oh you ‘ve got a family, do ya?” Punto yelled, spittle flying from his lips, “It’s a little late for that, isn’t it?  You do understand what happened back there, don’t you?  It’s over Bartlett!  You can never
go back!”
“Oh god! Oh shh-shhiTTTT!” Bartlett said his voice going up an octave, slowly reaching out to grab the gun with a trembling hand.
“Be careful, it’s loaded.” Punto mumbled, returning his gaze back to the desert highway.  “There’s always the chance that we don’t have to use them, but, I don’t see this thing ending any other way.”  They sat silence for a while.  Bartlett trembled in the passenger seat, holding the gun at arms length.  Punto lit another blunt, and started taking pulls from a bottle of Wild Turkey he found in the glove compartment.  They listened to the roar of the engine and the whir of the rubber tires on the hot tarmac, and contemplated the future.
Time passed. The groaning figure in the back seat grew quiet, but neither Punto nor Bartlett seemed to notice.  They took the exit towards Las Vegas.  Nick fiddled with the radio and they listened to the As/Mariners game for a while.  The A’s were up 5-3 in the 6th, when then announcer commented, “Boy, Billy Beane has put together another good team this year, he always seems to find an edge with those advanced analytics of his.”  With that, Punto ripped the radio from the dash and hurled it out the driver side window.  Bartlett watched fearfully in the rear-view mirror as it shattered on the tarmac.
“Can’t listen to a single game anymore without a mention…” Punto trailed off.  Bartlett grunted in agreement.
“But soon it’ll be over.  It’ll be all over,” Punto growled.  He turned to Bartlett, “Jason, I need to know, right now, are you with me?”
“Jesus Nick!” Bartlett took a long look out the window.  The steady horizon of the desert seemed to finally calm him.  Eventually he sighed, resigned to his fate.  “Yeah, I’m with you.”
“You’ll stick with me?”
“Till the bitter end, if that’s what it takes.” 
Nick look straight out the window for a long time.  He reached up and slid off his sunglasses to reveal watery eyes.  “I know I’m hard on you sometimes,” his voice caught, “But you know I love you, man.”  He offered his hand to Bartlett. “Piranhas for life?’

“Yeah, piranhas for life.”

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