2010: The Year of Tewks

I don't make New Year's resolutions. They are for Communists and people with weak constitutions.

I do, however, make New Year's predictions. My prediction for 2010 is that I will take the world by storm (or at least a light drizzle).

Whether it will be in the writing, lifting or performance genre, I'm not sure; but I do know that I am expecting big things from myself in the next 12 months.

I am starting the new year off with a bang. I just finished the first draft of my baseball fiction novel. All that's left to do is to find a publisher and watch millions of dollars flood into my bank account.

As my belated Christmas gift, I am providing you with a new book excerpt. This one is not baseball related, but instead follows a group of minor league teammates out for a night on the town.

Enjoy.

A group of Tigers occupied a back table filled with pitchers of ice cold beer and piping hot wings on the patio of Bobby’s Restaurant and Lounge. Overlooking the Atlantic on Ocean Drive, Bobby’s was a great place for the players to relax in relative anonymity. About a mile north of the Riomar Country Club, the bar catered to upscale clientele looking for a middle class experience.

Joining Tewks and Anderson were Gretzpo, Chris Seaboard and JR Coltrane, a starting pitcher from Thousand Oaks, California. The conversation stuck to baseball while the guys ate, but as the food cleared and the pitchers of beer sunk to dangerously low levels (only to be replenished by their increasingly attractive waitress), they began to take notice of some of the female ‘talent’ around them.

“Oh shit, look at that one,” Gretzpo nodded towards the entrance.

A raven-haired beauty swiveled her shapely hips across the patio towards their table. She wore a tiny pair of denim jean shorts that would make Daisy Duke blush. The shorts were perched atop a statuesque pair of silky smooth, olive skinned legs. Upstairs, she wore a dangerously tight, yellow spaghetti strap shirt which barely concealed her bountiful breasts. Her cup literally runneth over.

Gretzpo stared at Miss Duke with his mouth agape: the rest of the boys used a bit more discretion but there was no denying that she was absolutely gorgeous. She also knew exactly what she was doing. An alluring smile pasted to her face, Miss Duke confidently strode past the Tigers and joined her two friends, also possessing attributes sought by the superficial male, at a nearby table.

Anderson whistled and shook his head. “A broad like that will get you in all kinds of trouble.’

Prying their gazes away from the three Sirens, the guys embarked on a time-honoured tradition and requisite of male bonding: the trading of sex stories. Quickly, the stories devolved into a juvenile game of one-upmanship similar to fisherman telling tales of fish caught. ‘I swear to God, it was this big!’

Gretzpo was the only one not participating in the discussion; not because he didn’t have any stories, but he was completely transfixed by Miss Duke and her friends.

“Jesus, Gretzpo, at least blink. She’ll think you’re a serial killer,” Tewks quipped to his roommate.

“I love this chick,” Gretzpo replied hungrily.

At that moment, the three ladies got up, checked to make sure every pair of male eyes was honed on them, and strutted into the bar to terrorize the dance floor.

Seaboard leaned across the table and smacked Gretzpo in the shoulder. “Hey Bonus Baby, you’re going to have to bring out your wallet to seal this deal.”
"You sure you can handle this?” Coltrane inquired sarcastically.
“Fuck you guys, I’m going in.” With that, Gretzpo jumped up from his seat and bounded into the bar.
Tewks shook his head and smiled. “The kid’s got balls, I’ll give him that.”

Fifteen minutes later, the patio door burst open and Gretzpo stepped through the threshold with a megawatt grin stapled to his boyish face. Miss Duke and her gal pals trailed close behind like he was the Pied Piper leading rats to the river.

The guys exchanged glances in astonished wonder, impressed at the game of their brash teammate. Gretzpo and his new friends joined the Tigers at their table. The sequence of events became clear when their waitress emerged onto the patio, carrying a tray full of shots and set it down in front of the group.

Gretzpo whipped out his credit card in an elaborate gesture and handed it to the waitress. The display of plastic and copious amount of drinks was not lost on the ladies. They had found their meal ticket for the night.

Gretzpo passed out seven shots and kept one for himself; this barely made a dent in the tray. Things were going to get messy.

“What is this, tequila?” asked Coltrane.
“Yeah buddy. Patron.” Gretzpo shot a look to the ladies. “Only the good stuff.”
As the group brought the shots to their lips, Tewks wavered. “Shit I can’t do tequila anymore. It wrecked me in college.”
Gretzpo admonished him. “Come on Tewks, don’t be a pussy. This isn’t your college bullshit tequila; it goes down smooth.”
“Yeah, that’s what I’m worried about.”

Miss Duke, privy to the conversation from her spot across from Tewks, unsteadily rose out of her chair and leaned suggestively over the table. She flashed him her most devastating smile. “Oh just have some shots with us. We’re lots of fun.”

Her chest was directly at Tewks’ eye level. He considered her for a moment, studying the intricate details of her yellow shirt.

Tewks looked at Anderson to his left and said with a conceding shrug, “How can I say no to that face?” He slammed the shot down his throat and signaled Gretzpo to give him another.

I will be back on Monday, as I won't be coherent enough to post anything tomorrow.

Happy New Year!!!