I became a baseball fan last September when my friend Lena and I started going to this cute little sports bar after work. We were both pretty stressed out about everything that was going on in the city and that bar was the perfect getaway. The guys there never watched the newscasts that showed those horrible images over and over. They watched one thing and one thing only -- baseball.

I have to admit that I didn’t become a fan because I love the game. I became a fan because I’m madly in love with one of the players and I want to have his children. He is hot! His eyes are green like emeralds and his skin is the color of cookie dough. When he makes a difficult catch, he flies through the air like an acrobat. His arms are so strong and powerful, he can knock a baseball into the middle of next week. This guy is the best thing since chocolate syrup.

Anyway, last month I moved into a new apartment because my old building had a bit of a cockroach problem. I never actually saw one in my apartment, but I saw a whole family of those suckers in the laundry room. Those little demons scared the hell out of me. I started having nightmares about mutant cockroaches with scissor-like teeth eating all my credit cards. I didn’t feel safe in my own home.

On the third night in my new apartment, I decided to finish unpacking. The only thing left to unpack was a small box of junk that had been stored in the basement of my old building. After I dumped the junk in a pile on one end of the coffee table, I picked up the remote and turned on the tv. I was shocked and delighted at what I saw. My future husband’s team was playing!

I ran into the kitchen and grabbed a bag of chips, my favorite cup and the small pitcher of lemonade that was in the fridge. I also grabbed the big plate my mother gave me as a house warming gift. It has a picture of a house on it with the word “Home” written on the front door. After I made it back to the living room, I set everything down on the clean end of the coffee table. I poured the entire bag of chips on my plate and set it on my lap. I was ready to watch the game.

My sweetie was off to the side of the plate swinging the bat around. He looked better than a cup of hot chocolate on a cold winter day. Just as I wiped the mixture of drool and chips that started to slide out of the corner of my mouth, I saw something black moving in the mound of junk on the other end of the coffee table. I stared at the junk for a second, but I didn’t see anything, so I turned my attention back to the game.

My sweetie stepped up to the plate. The crowd went wild. Some bleacher bimbos held up signs that read “MARRY ME!” How pathetic is that? The camera then zoomed in on the pitcher. He stood there so stiffly, you would have thought he had a bat up his butt. The catcher squatted behind my sweetie and then gave some signals to the pitcher. The pitcher shook his head with disapproval at each one. When the pitcher finally nodded, the catcher squatted down into the dirt like he had to poop or something.

Anyway, the pitcher made the sign of the cross, blew on the ball, touched the tip of his hat with his glove, spit on the ground, and then threw the ball in my sweetie’s direction. Just as his bat made contact with the ball, I saw it again. There was something black moving in the mound of junk on my coffee table. I sat there for a second, absolutely mortified, trying to figure out what it was. Then I saw it -- it was the biggest cockroach I have ever seen in my entire life!

I jumped up from the couch and the plate of chips fell to the floor. I screamed and jumped up and down like a crazy person. I was so out of control, my left arm hit the pitcher of lemonade and it flew through the air. That’s when I saw the baseball bat my dad gave me for a house warming present. He told me to leave it by the front door in case I ever had to protect myself against an intruder. I never thought I’d actually have to use it, but now was as good a time as any.

I ran over to the door, grabbed the bat and then sprinted back over to the couch. I stood between the couch and the coffee table and looked around for the bug. Lemonade and chips were everywhere and the pitcher was on the mound of junk. The table was a mess. When I spotted the roach, my fear turned to anger. That disgusting thing was perched on the rim of my favorite cup. It had to die.

The plate was on the floor in the exact spot where I needed to stand in order to hit the bug with the bat. I heard the crowd cheer, so I looked at the tv to see what was going on. My sweetie was now on third base. I stepped up to the plate and positioned the bat over my shoulder. I did a couple of practice swings. I kept my eye on the bug. When the bug moved a little bit, I swung the bat as hard as I could. I nailed it! I hit the bug so hard, it flew through the air, hit the tv screen and stuck there.

I dropped the bat and ran over to the bug. There was a piece of paper on top of the tv, so I used it to scoop up the bug. I threw the bug, the cup and everything that was on the coffee table into the box and put the lid on it. I went back over to the couch, stepped over the plate and sat down. The crowd cheered. I looked up at the tv and then breathed a sigh of relief. My sweetie was safe at home and so was I.

THE END