(the stuff dreams are made of)
February 8, 2005, Weymouth, MA. 1:03am
Phone rings with voicemail message, waking me out of a very deep sleep.
*garbled talking punctuated by the words, “Varitek,” “A-Rod,” “this year,” and “No!” *
I shrug, roll over and fall back asleep almost immediately.
Phone rings. It’s Colleen, best friend currently living in New Orleans.
Me: *groggily* Hello? (sounds of Mardi Gras celebration clearly audible in the background)
Colleen: Hey! I’m sorry if I woke you but I have a very important question.
Me: Okay. *sits up, expecting a request for a kidney, some plasma donation or at the very least, bail money*
Colleen: When Pedro threw Don Zimmer to the ground, was that during the regular season or the playoffs?
Me: Playoffs. Game 3 of the 2003 ALCS.
Colleen: It wasn’t during the regular season?
Me: *squints eyes at digital clock confirming that it is, indeed 1:30 in the morning and wondering if this line of questioning could not wait until a more humane hour.* Nope. Playoffs. Game 3, Clemens vs. Pedro. Sox lost.
Colleen: Jeremy (hereinafter referred to disdainfully as Nascar Boy) and his friend are betting me beers that it was the regular season.
Me: They’re on crack.
Colleen: You’re sure?
Colleen: Awesome. I knew you would know. Nascar Boy is trying to make me feel stupid.
Me: Screw him. Except don’t.
Colleen: Right. Nascar, Nascar, Nascar.
Colleen: Oh, and did Manny get traded to the Cardinals?
Me: I very much doubt it.
Colleen: ‘Cause that’s what they just told me, that Manny got traded.
Me: I can promise you that did not happen and they’re just messing with you.
Colleen: Okay, good. I like Manny.
Colleen: Stupid boys from the Midwest. I hate them all. Except for Michigan boys. Michigan boys are awesome.
Colleen: Okay, thanks. I have to go beat up Nascar boy now. I love you! I’ll call you tomorrow. Have fun at the parade.
Me: Okay, sure. Thanks.
*hangs up, tosses phone to floor and flops back down on pillows.*
Five minutes pass.
*gets up, walks to computer, loads Boston.com to check on Manny’s current employment status. Satisfied that he is still a member of the Red Sox, closes computer, crawls back into bed and finally falls asleep, dreams of Varitek and Pedro ass-whuppings playing in head.*
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a parade to prepare for.