Wednesday, April 25, 2012
The Balla Returns Home
WELLS: No prob. No prob. The Tiger clubhouse is right through here, bro. Calm down. There’s one of my O.G. crew! What up, Ry Ry?
WELLS: That’s Balla, son. And I’m tight, you know me. Never had a bad day in my life, bro. If I was any better, I’d havta be twins to enjoy it all. Meet my new wingman M-Dawg.
SAUNDERS: I’m not his wingman. Wedge pays me $200 a night to shadow this idiot and keep him away from underage girls. He had three paternity suits in his first month in Seattle from the local high schools.
RABURN: Yup. Sounds like ‘em.
WELLS: Y’all crazy. Where’s my boy B, Ry Ry? I miss the little guy. M-Dawg, Brandon might seem a little lame at first, bro, but he’s a great dude. Chicks flock to him.
SAUNDERS: I keep telling you. I don’t care about your boy B. Or Aussie Brad. Or Clete. Or Fu-Tang Ni or whatever.
RABURN: I dunno if’n it’s a good time, man. Brandon’s be changin’ a bit since you’uns been gone. Shoot…here he comes now. See fer yourself.
WELLS: What up, B! My boy! You lookin’ a bit rough, bro.
INGE: Hello, Casper. Welcome back to the sea of sorrow that is Detroit.
WELLS: Dude. Wussup with you, B?
INGE: I can’t live the lie anymore, Casper. This is what the people have turned me into. I gave everything for them and they rejected me like an unwanted deformed child. I have no one but myself. Don’t be a hater.
WELLS: Me? A hater? WTF, bro?
RABURN: Man, that’s his new spiritual guide or whatever talkin’, not him. Shit’s gittin’ old, man.
WELLS: Spiritual guide? That’s some wack stuff, son. B never needed no spiritual guide before!
RABURN: Well, little peckerhead could hit .200 before. Now he can’t. Then he hooked up with his new buddy. I can’t hit a gaggle of geese with a pocket full’ov M-80’s myself, but I ain’t listen’n to that freak.
RABURN: There’n he is.
WELLS: Hypocrite? Hater? Who is this clown? Brandon’s my boy, bro!
CANSECO: Brandon is no one’s boy. He is finally a man. He lives in a world of pain and suffering, like me. He has embraced Jose Canseco as the only person that understands him. Isn’t that right, Brandon?
INGE: Yes, master.
WELLS: Are you serious, bro? Ry Ry, how you gonna let this happen, dude?
RABURN: I dunno. Don’t really give a fat pig’s shit, to be honest. Seeya, Casper.
CANSECO: You see? Brandon and I are vampires on the hunt. MLB and aliens are out to get us. The haters are everywhere. We will not be denied, though. We are better than you and the other haters.
WELLS: WTF, dude? You don’t make any sense, dawg. B, let’s go get some Bud Light Limes and talk about this, bro. You don’t need this punk.
INGE: It’s too late for me, Casper. Go in peace. Jose and I are united against the world.
WELLS: You believe this, M-Dawg?
SAUNDERS: Try not to speak to me, please.
CANSECO: Saunders, is it? You look like a victim. Learn from our mistakes. Care to join us in our crusade?
SAUNDERS: Fuck off, has-been. Didn’t Madonna give you AIDS a decade ago? Why haven’t you killed yourself yet?
CANSECO: See, Brandon? Another hater. Another idiot out to get us. Goodbye, gentlemen. I release you from our presence.
INGE: Farewell, Casper. Remember. When you gaze into the abyss, the abyss also gazes into you. So it is written.
WELLS: Whatevs, man. Call me when you get your act together, bro. C’mon, M-Dawg. My boy Fu’s gonna meet us for some SICK sushi, bro.
SAUNDERS: Hooray. Just sit at a different table from me, okay?
WELLS: You a trip, son. A trip. The BALLA’S BACK IN DA D! Woooooo!