Mikey Mantle

Pete took us to a bar that reeked of despair and vomit. I understand there has got to be only a handful of bars in the area, but somehow we ended up at the most depressing one. It was a room full of dour faces. The only one with cheery eyes was Pete. He talked on and on about baseball. Specifically Mickey Mantle, and how he changed the game. I wanted to talk about the prank call, but no matter how hard I tried the conversation always went back to baseball. I wanted to share in his joy and enthusiasm for America's favorite past time, but I couldn't. Perhaps it was because my brain was still trying to figure out who the mysterious prank caller was. Or maybe it was being in the bar too long, feeling the weight of a thousand worlds come crushing down. All I knew is my chest was in knots. I decided then to get some air. That's when I saw it. It was a monstrous shadow man. It had long, broad shoulders and was over twelve feet tall. It was busy playing pool, so it didn't notice me right away. But then when it turned it's faceless head to me an indescribable feeling of rage ran through me. I knew then that dispite not knowing who or what this thing was I had to fight it.