Meeting of the Minds
[Johnny Damon enters an empty golf course, freckled with golden tees. A cold wind blows. He stands, waiting. A turtlenecked figure emerges from the shadows.]
JD: Hey, Mr. S! What's shakin'? [ He extends his hand.]
GS: SILENCE, FOOL. On your knees!
JD: [muttering as he kneels] Fuck, I thought that was just a rumor.
GS: WHAT WAS THAT?
GS: ARE YOU LOOKING DIRECTLY AT ME?
GS: [extends his arm, showing off a large, glittering diamond] YOU MAY KISS THE RINGj
JD: Uh, okay. [kisses the ring]
GS: ARE YOU READY TO BECOME A TRUE YANKEE, FOOL?
JD: You bet I am!
GS: [reaches under his turtleneck to produce a vial. He extends a liver-spotted hand in front of Damon's head, motioning it toward the vial. Smoky strands of red exit Damon's body.] AH, YES.
JD: Geez, what the fuck is that...sir?
GS: YOUR SOUL.
GS: [corks the vial, then produces another from under his turtle neck. It is bigger, filled with burned rubber, brownish water, and chest hair. He uncorks it.] DRINK THIS NOW.
JD: [smells the contents] Uuakgh, it stinks.
GS: THAT IS ESSENSE OF JERSEY, FOOL. YOU WILL LEARN TO LIKE IT.
JD: [quaffs the vial, choking and sputtering] Ugha....ALL OTHER TEAMS ARE INFERIOR. MAKING THE ALL-STAR TEAM MEANS NOTHING IF I DO NOT IT AS A YANKEE. I WILL WEAR A 3 DIGIT JERSEY BECAUSE THE NUMBERS OF ALL MY TRUE YANKEE FOREFATHERS SHOULD BE RETIRED.
GS: CAN IT, FOOL. I HAVE HEARD IT BEFORE. [He kicks Damon over and exits into the shadows.]