Read Online Memoirs of a Neurotic Zombie by Jeff Norton - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jeff Norton
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up their fun. I slithered into the used red vest, trying not to let it touch my skin. Nesto and I were on the same team, and Corina was blue, along with Jake and my sister.
Fortunately, Growl had a bag of brand-new Camp Nowannakidda baseball caps.
‘Pick your positions kids. Reds in the field first and blues at bat,’ said Growl.
In baseball, the field is separated into an infield where all the action is, and an outfield where a batter may occasionally hit a ball – and I wasn’t looking for action.
‘I prefer to be as far away from the ball as possible,’ I said.
‘Okay, Adam’s in the outfield,’ said Growl.
‘Is there such a thing as out-outfield?’ I asked.
‘If there’s a fly ball, it’s all you!’
‘Lucky duck,’ said Nesto, who volunteered for shortstop, the fielder between second and third base, which I thought was wholly appropriate given his height. ‘I love fresh flies.’
I was in left field, furthest from the bench and hopefully furthest from the ball.
Amanda was up first and struck out. We Meltzers, clearly, were not a sporty bunch.
Second up to bat was Corina and she ended up slamming the ball into the sky. It soared over the infield like a comet as it rushed down towards me at terminal velocity. I faintly heard my team cheering me on to catch it, but it was moving too fast. My hand sweated in my glove and I couldn’t raise it on time.
Thwop !
The ball dented the grass beside me. I heard a collective groan from the reds as Corina glided around the bases and comfortably hopped onto home plate, doing a little victory dance. She high-fived her teammates as the next batter stepped up to the plate.
When it was our turn at bat, Corina volunteered to pitch. She got two players out by the time I was called to the plate.
I grabbed the bat, very aware that the last time I had swung at anything, it was the robot-shaped piñata on my birth/death day. I still couldn’t believe my life had ended that day, now well over four months ago, and then had started anew with a rebirth from the grave.
I was lost in thought when Corina taunted me on my way to the plate. ‘Batter up,’ she called. ‘I’m throwin’ cannons.’
I didn’t want to embarrass myself like I did in the field, so I reluctantly stepped forward, gripped the bat and prepared to meet Corina’s pitch.
Corina swung her leg into the air like they do on TV and unleashed the fury of her immortal power. I swung as hard as I could but, instead of hitting the ball, the ball hit me.
Corina’s curve ball pounded me in the head, knocking me down and out. The sunshine quickly faded and all went dark as I blacked out.
*
I was back in my coffin, in my grave. It was dark and hot. And then too hot. The coffin lit up with a red glow: a heating element. The inside of my coffin was like the inside of an oven. I was being cooked. I pounded and thrashed at the wooden box but couldn’t get out. Finally, the heat was too much and I passed out – baked in my own coffin.
*
I came to and opened my eyes, which was a mistake. The afternoon sun was strong and I squinted until Corina leaned over me, blocking out the sun – a vampire eclipse.
‘How many fingers am I holding up?’ she asked.
‘None,’ I said, noticing her hands were by her sides.
‘What’s your favourite brand of antibac soap?’
It was a trick question. ‘GermOff for efficacy, Flower Shower for aroma.’
She pulled me up. ‘You’ll be fine, slugger.’
But I wasn’t so sure. I couldn’t shake the awful feeling of my daymare.
15
In Which I Win A Prize
My head had recovered, but I wasn’t sure my pride had.
I wasn’t built for baseball. It was nothing like choreographed dance where you could rehearse and rehearse to refine every step until it was perfect. With baseball you just had to wing it and that felt unnatural to me.
After the game (Reds 5, Blues 2), we filed back into the mess hall and stood behind our gingerbread masterpieces. I was pretty proud of
Fortunately, Growl had a bag of brand-new Camp Nowannakidda baseball caps.
‘Pick your positions kids. Reds in the field first and blues at bat,’ said Growl.
In baseball, the field is separated into an infield where all the action is, and an outfield where a batter may occasionally hit a ball – and I wasn’t looking for action.
‘I prefer to be as far away from the ball as possible,’ I said.
‘Okay, Adam’s in the outfield,’ said Growl.
‘Is there such a thing as out-outfield?’ I asked.
‘If there’s a fly ball, it’s all you!’
‘Lucky duck,’ said Nesto, who volunteered for shortstop, the fielder between second and third base, which I thought was wholly appropriate given his height. ‘I love fresh flies.’
I was in left field, furthest from the bench and hopefully furthest from the ball.
Amanda was up first and struck out. We Meltzers, clearly, were not a sporty bunch.
Second up to bat was Corina and she ended up slamming the ball into the sky. It soared over the infield like a comet as it rushed down towards me at terminal velocity. I faintly heard my team cheering me on to catch it, but it was moving too fast. My hand sweated in my glove and I couldn’t raise it on time.
Thwop !
The ball dented the grass beside me. I heard a collective groan from the reds as Corina glided around the bases and comfortably hopped onto home plate, doing a little victory dance. She high-fived her teammates as the next batter stepped up to the plate.
When it was our turn at bat, Corina volunteered to pitch. She got two players out by the time I was called to the plate.
I grabbed the bat, very aware that the last time I had swung at anything, it was the robot-shaped piñata on my birth/death day. I still couldn’t believe my life had ended that day, now well over four months ago, and then had started anew with a rebirth from the grave.
I was lost in thought when Corina taunted me on my way to the plate. ‘Batter up,’ she called. ‘I’m throwin’ cannons.’
I didn’t want to embarrass myself like I did in the field, so I reluctantly stepped forward, gripped the bat and prepared to meet Corina’s pitch.
Corina swung her leg into the air like they do on TV and unleashed the fury of her immortal power. I swung as hard as I could but, instead of hitting the ball, the ball hit me.
Corina’s curve ball pounded me in the head, knocking me down and out. The sunshine quickly faded and all went dark as I blacked out.
*
I was back in my coffin, in my grave. It was dark and hot. And then too hot. The coffin lit up with a red glow: a heating element. The inside of my coffin was like the inside of an oven. I was being cooked. I pounded and thrashed at the wooden box but couldn’t get out. Finally, the heat was too much and I passed out – baked in my own coffin.
*
I came to and opened my eyes, which was a mistake. The afternoon sun was strong and I squinted until Corina leaned over me, blocking out the sun – a vampire eclipse.
‘How many fingers am I holding up?’ she asked.
‘None,’ I said, noticing her hands were by her sides.
‘What’s your favourite brand of antibac soap?’
It was a trick question. ‘GermOff for efficacy, Flower Shower for aroma.’
She pulled me up. ‘You’ll be fine, slugger.’
But I wasn’t so sure. I couldn’t shake the awful feeling of my daymare.
15
In Which I Win A Prize
My head had recovered, but I wasn’t sure my pride had.
I wasn’t built for baseball. It was nothing like choreographed dance where you could rehearse and rehearse to refine every step until it was perfect. With baseball you just had to wing it and that felt unnatural to me.
After the game (Reds 5, Blues 2), we filed back into the mess hall and stood behind our gingerbread masterpieces. I was pretty proud of
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