It’s time for the Evenfall Hollow Mandatory Community Softball Tournament. Also, hoverboards, a 1920’s barbershop quartet singer, and is Bernice Pendleton alright?
Local Sponsor Support Provided by: Taco John’s
Show Notes:
Episode Script: Ruu McKinney
Voice Acting:
Phil Liota: Ruu McKinney
Mayor Brimley: Ruu McKinney
Music:
Introduction
“Good Morning” by Muzaproduction
Happenings in the Hollow:
“Dynamic Flow” by Lulu_Sound_music
Local Community Spotlight:
“Uplifting Anthem for Sports and Business” by Pilsang Yun
Local Sponsor Message:
“Nature Calming” by Will Cheng
S01E08: Fly Ball Episode Transcript
[Introduction segment begins. “Good morning” Plays]
Good morning future visitors, and might I even say, future residents of Evenfall Hollow?
I’m Phil from the Evenfall Hollow Board of Tourism, and with me are my PA Paul and our office cat muffin.
[Mothman scream through wall]
Good morning to you too Gary.
Now, if you’re just joining us, we’re here for yet another exciting episode of our promotional series about the wonderful town of Evenfall Hollow.
You know Paul, I realize, we haven’t officially named our little series here.
The colonel has suggested “Morning cup of Evenfall”, and the mayor made a very long suggestion here
[sound of large book dropping]
But yeah… We’re not going to read that. I honestly prefer something just a little simpler.
Maybe we’ll run a contest and let the community name it?
But for now, let’s see what’s happening in the hollow.
[Happenings in the Hollow segment begins. “Dynamic Flow” plays]
Happening in the Hollow today, we have another tip about the magician, and that tip is, that the magician has gotten a hoverboard.
[Off Mic]
No not the kind we were promised in the back to the future movies Paul. I know, I know, I agree.
No, these hoverboards are more like a segway with the whole top part cut off.
[Off Mic]
No Paul, no cupholders.
You see, the makers of the hoverboard don’t care if you’re thirsty – they care only about oppression.
They’re just like that overly aggressive mall cop that rode around on that hoverboard with his silly black bicycle helmet with those reflective stripes, that stupid neon yellow shirt.
The way his elbow pads would shift down onto his forearms as he would give me the ‘I’m watching you’ motion?
That mustache…
Ahem, I apologize listeners, I seem to have fallen into a bit of a tirade.
It’s just that I’ve had some bad experiences with mall cops and I…
Nope. Nope. Not going to talk about it. I’m just doing the news.
[clears throat]
Yep, no cupholders!
Why are you giving me that look Paul?
Anyways, they have those multi-color RGB lighting on the front, which the magician seemed to be “quite proud of” said one old hollow resident.
Since acquiring said hoverboard, the magician has apparently joined some kind of a hoverboard gang, as he has been seen meeting with several other hoverboard riding residents around the hollow, including a mysterious new person…
Who dresses like a 1920’s barbershop quartet singer.
While certain residents have voiced concerns that this is but the first stages of an invasion by MS13, others in the community favor the opinion that Brandon should probably watch less Fox News.
While details about this mysterious, yet rather dapper addition to the community are sparse, Evenfall Hollow resident Susan Parket noted that their two-tone suede oxfords and straw boater hat were particularly fetching, as were their bright red sleeve garters.
No Paul, I don’t know what the point of a sleeve garter is either.
Hey! Maybe it’s like that old ghost story about the woman with the ribbon around her neck, but with arms? You know the one Paul. The guy, you know, he gets to remove the ribbon on their honeymoon night, and the woman’s head falls off?
It wasn’t a ghost story?
Her name was Bernice Pendleton?
Is… She… Okay?
Huh. Well that makes sense.
Our condolences go out to the family and friends of Bernice Pendleton.
On that note, let’s move on to our main story, the evenfall hollow mandatory community softball tournament.
[Local Community Spotlight Segment begins. “Uplifting anthem for sports and business” plays]
As I’m sure you’ve all noticed lately, our sleepy burg has been alive with the hustle and bustle of record numbers of new visitors and residents. Whether this is due to our efforts as the public facing side of the Evenfall Hollow Board of Tourism, nobody knows. Except we do know, and it was. High five Paul.
High five slap.
In response to this record growth, Mayor Brimley has decided that we as a town, could use a little something to pull the community together that isn’t a dawn of the dead style manhunt for yours truly.
To that end, the town of Evenfall Hollow is hosting its first annual mandatory community softball tournament.
Or in the words of mayor Brimley “You’ll either be swinging a bat, or in the stands eating a hot dog while you watch someone swing a bat. Anyone that ain’t there is a go’darn fool, and I tolerate a fool about as much as my blood pressure…” and so on.
Everyone has gathered at the new community baseball center on the edge of town, and as practice winds up, the first players have shown up and begun practice.
As per the mayor’s guidelines, all residents will be entered into a lotto pool. Once two teams have been selected, players will take the field while everyone else will, and I quote,
“Watch the game and be glad they’re having so much fun.”
So, while the remaining players are being drawn, why not take a look at some the players already at practice.
First off, we have a very stout man who seems to go by the name of… Gronk. Gronk is dressed in some manner of animal hide, and carries a large wooden club around.
Excuse me, Mr. Gronk, do you have a moment to answer a few quick questions?
Umm… Well, Gronk is furrowing his exceptionally prominent brow, and grunting distrustfully as he brandishes his club at me.
You know what? We’re just going to move on.
So, I don’t know about everyone else, but I’m pretty excited about this game, and I don’t even like baseball.
I mean, with such a wide variety of players, from that person wearing the World War 1 pilot’s goggles and a fashionable leather bomber jacket, to that other person with the gold teeth and several face tattoos who refers to themselves only as the Fort Meyers Riddler.
Throw in Gary and the Bonecruncher as umpires, and I think we’re going to have a tournament to remember.
Hold on. Hey Paul, is that the dapper man Susan mentioned?
Yeah, Yeah, the one next to the inexplicably withered flowers and the dead owl.
No, that’s Charles Duvall, and yes, he is looking quite stylish today, but no, no, the other one. Yeah, with the… huh, what is that? Ooh Paul, is that a hot dog cart hooked up to his hoverboard?
Oops! I’ll have to grab a hot dog later, as Gary has just signaled the start of the game.
So, it looks like Mayor Brimley will be tossing the opening pitch… Oh. Okay so he’s launching into another speech about the benefits of oats, and he seems to be trying to explain why our community spirit is like peaches and cream flavor… You know what? Never mind. We’re just going to take a quick break while we hear from our local sponsor.
[Local Sponsor Segment begins. “Nature Calming” by Will Cheng plays]
The human mind is a labyrinth.
Within it, there exist countless memories, both joyful and sad.
Just as one discards the outer skin of an onion however, there too are memories that lie hidden in plain sight – just on the surface. They’re right there in front of you, and yet, you never seek them out, never replay them.
Their function has been reduced to a sort of temporal landmark for your brain, a way to track the passing of the days and little more – they are quiet, and completely and utterly uneventful.
Nothing to see here.
But think back. See if you can find one of those memories.
Ah there we are. That’s a good one.
See the way the first strokes of violet begin to bleed up from the horizon?
The way the once unnoticed sunlight takes on that distinct golden hue that gives your eyes an almost warm, comforted feeling as you take it in.
Every little detail is highlighted, every movement noticed. Time itself seems to almost slow.
You let out a shuddering sigh. The temperate air has taken on the slightest of chills, enough to make the hairs on your arm stand up in prickly goosebumps.
But then the breeze passes, and the air returns to that unusual temperature that seems to defy categorization.
It’s not cold, it’s not warm. You move your hand around in it, and you struggle to feel anything really. It’s just there. Kind of like you.
In the growing twilight, you pick a crab apple from a nearby tree. You toss it in the air as you begin to walk.
The small apple spins before the backdrop of darkening cerulean, and you catch it in your hand with a dull slap, like a toddler batting the surface of a kiddie pool.
With each step, you can hear the crunch of gravel beneath your feet.
It is almost deafening in this unusual silence, and yet, desperate for input, your ears begin to crave it. The crunch of the gravel. The slap of the apple landing in your palm.
Crunch. Slap. Crunch. Slap.
You continue to walk aimlessly amidst the empty gravel lot, watching the sun’s lazy journey towards twilight.
In the distance, another breeze kicks up from the choppy surface of a great lake. The wind blows across the rails of an old railroad track, mingling the sharp tang of creosote with the bright, citral scent of un-manicured grass and assorted foliage.
You didn’t even realize you had that memory, did you? Well, we did.
You see, at Taco Johns, we know all of your memories, even the ones you haven’t made yet. And if you’d like to keep those memories private, then maybe your next memory will be about purchasing a 1lb box of potato olays and a taco.
Hmm, maybe you should toss in a churro too. We bet that would make a great memory. Not you know, like the memories you’d have if you didn’t.
Just Sayin.
Taco Johns. We remembered that weird apple memory. What else will we remember?
[Local Community Spotlight segment B begins. “Uplifting anthem for sports and business” plays]
Welcome back everyone. We’re still in the first inning of the game courtesy of the mayor’s speech, so I’m just gonna take a quick minute to get everyone up to speed with everything that has happened so far.
To start out, the blue team has selected the Fort Meyer’s Riddler for the role of pitcher.
With the red team’s Gronk first up to bat, the Riddler wound up and tossed his first pitch. While I didn’t personally see any contact, Gronk appeared to take personal offense to having a ball thrown at him and promptly rushed the mound and pummeled the Fort Meyer’s Riddler with his club.
The blue team immediately pleaded to the umpire, however the Bonecruncher has declined any penalty, as he was, and I quote “extremely impressed by Gronk’s bludgeoning form.”
The blue team has declined to contest the call on account of you know, bone crunching.
Fellow members of the red team have voiced several complaints as well, though mainly about the fact that Gronk has taken to wearing the Riddler’s grille as a necklace, and the still connected teeth are making Susan Parket a little nauseous.
Off the field, there have been complaints about concession service.
The dapper hotdog man we mentioned earlier seems to have a monopoly on the concession market, while also having what can only be described as a starbucks level of customer service.
I personally paid him $5 for one of his succulent hot dogs, only to have him dress it exactly to my specifications, and then promptly drop it into the dirt in front of me.
No Paul, he didn’t give me a refund.
Normally, I would either ask for my money back, or a replacement hotdog, but the hotdog man appears to well… He appears to not have a face.
Any questions directed at him elicit a strange crunching or chattering sound, like someone either painfully grinding their teeth together, or eating a mouthful of picante flavored corn nuts.
No Paul. Not Cool Ranch. It was clearly Picante. It’s always Picante.
Oh, and apparently, he also sells vegan hot dogs as well, but when Rhonda Blevins of the House of Seiten ordered one, she reported that while she did receive it, it was slathered in a meaty chili that she was unable to eat.
I’m thinking maybe this hotdog man is just a jerk.
Back on the field, the rumbles of thunder seem to be growing in intensity, and there have been several reports of what appear to be bursts of fireworks, growing closer with every sighting.
While both teams have expressed concerns about a possible postponement, local forecasts show no chance of rain in the immediate future, or ever. Thus, the umpires have elected to continue the game.
It looks like that man dressed as the old timey pilot is next up to bat.
Oh listeners, this could be a home run!
The fly ball is headed towards the outfield where Susan Parket stands with her glove at the ready. She looks confident. Listeners, I don’t know about you but I’m absolutely on the edge of my seat.
[loud sounds of a fighter jet approaching and crashing]
Listeners, there is a lot of smoke and dust, but from what I can tell, a Russian Su-75 fighter jet has appeared out of nowhere and crashed into the outfield where Susan was waiting to catch the ball.
While I don’t see Susan anywhere, the ball has just rolled into view, still aflame.
The Bonecruncher is motioning for the batter to continue around the bases as the blue team stands bewildered around the wreckage.
To the family and friends of Susan Parket, we offer our heartfelt condolences.
Oh! Listeners, there appears to be a parachute descending into the forest just past the field, likely from the pilot of that crashed jet.
Gronk has caught sight of it as well and has left the dugout and set off in a hurried pace towards the tree line. I don’t know what he’s after, but we can still hear the jingle of his grille even after his disappearance into the woods.
The rest of the field appears to be in disarray.
With a giant flaming wreck taking up a large portion of the field, the umpires are making a decision as to whether or not to continue the game.
It looks like after some deliberation; Gary has made the call to cancel. The Bonecruncher doesn’t seem to agree with the decision, and the two are now arguing atop the pitcher’s mound.
[Outro Segment Begins]
Listeners, It looks like the game is over for the day.
Both teams have left the dugout and either appear to be heading home, or at least getting out of splash range of the pitcher’s mound.
Gronk has returned from the forest wearing some sort of pilot’s helmet, and honestly looks a bit crestfallen that the game is over.
The hotdog man has decided to call it a day as well and with a ring of his bell, he has spirited into the distance, with only the dull, multi-colored strobe in the fog, and a pile of dirty hotdogs as proof of his visit.
I don’t know about you Paul, but I still really want a hot dog. Do you think Craig’s quick bite is still haunted?
Oh, well anyways listeners, Paul, Muffin, and I wish you a good night, and we’ll see you next time.
In the meantime, why not get yourself a snack as well? You’ve earned it.
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A Production of Windborne Press/Ruu Mckinney.