Every Day an Adventure

Well, a bit over a year ago I wrote an abridged version of Hana Yori Dango season 1, of the dorama at least. Keep in mind I've never read the manga or seen the anime, just the doramas.

Season 2 just finished airing, so it'd be a real shame if I didn't write one of these for it too, right? Besides, now you can all save yourself the 11 hours of watching it!

(In case you forgot, Makino and Domyouji are the main couple. She's poor, he's rich. F4 ("flower four") is Rui, Soujirou, Akira, and Domyouji, all of whom are rich kids. Eitoku's the high school they all went to. Yuuki is Makino's best friend, who sort of started to get a crush on Soujirou in the first season. Also, Domyouji's mom hates Makino, but pretty much everyone else around him thinks she's great because she curbs his violent instincts. Go figure. Oh yeah, and a "red tag" is this thing where the entire school beats up on whoever's tagged. Domyouji flew off to NYC at the end of the first season to go to business school because he's too dumb to take over the family corporation.)

( Yeah, this season's even longer, see )

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaa I can't fucking sleep. Why am I creative in all the wrong ways at all the wrong times??

Since I have so many friends who are Astros fans I figured I would post this here too.

(The original poem - Casey At The Bat)
(The inspiration for this - Jayson Stark)
(The game - 10/17, Cards 5, Astros 4)

Pujols At The Bat

The outlook wasn't brilliant for the Cardinal nine that day;
The score stood four to two with but one inning more to play.
And then when Luna struck out hard, and Mabry did the same,
A crazy cheering started from the patrons of the game.

The Astros needed just one out to be the NL champs;
The stadium erupted more in waves of claps and stamps.
LaRussa knew if Pujols could but get a whack at that--
They still might have a chance to score with Pujols at the bat.

But X preceded Pujols, and Jim Edmonds did as well;
And the former was a midget and the latter was a kvell.
So upon that rooting multitude high confidences sat
For there seemed but little chance of Pujols getting up to bat.

But Eckstein hit a single, to the wonderment of all,
And Edmonds, with great patience, didn't swing at the fourth ball;
And when the dust had lifted, and the perfect save had burst,
There was Eckstein safe at second and Jim Edmonds poised at first.

Then forty thousand throats and more had sudd'nly ceased to cheer;
The silence filled the outfield, it rattled in the clear;
It hushed upon the dugouts and recoiled upon the flat,
For Pujols, Albert Pujols, was advancing to the bat.

There was ease in Albert's manner as he stepped into his place;
There was pride in Albert's bearing, but no smile upon his face.
And as he stepped into the box, eyes narrowed like a cat,
No stranger in the crowd could doubt 'twas Pujols at the bat.

And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air,
And Pujols stood a-watching it for a split second there.
He swung wild at the slider, but his form had briefly fled,
"That pitch was tough," thought Pujols. "Strike one," the umpire said.

"Yeaaaah!" cried the maddened thousands, and echoed out abroad;
But one stoic look from Pujols and the audience was awed.
They saw him start to concentrate, they saw his muscles strain,
And they knew that Pujols wouldn't let that ball go by again.

He tenses up his upper arms, he starts to shift his weight;
He pounds with cruel violence his bat upon the plate.
And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go,
And now the air is shattered by the force of Albert's blow.

The ball rose up into the air, it seemed 'twould never land;
And all the crowd was silent as it flew over the stand.
The players ran the bases, the ball soared in its arc
It hit the glassy outer wall, high up above the park.

Oh, somewhere in this southern state the sun is shining bright;
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light,
And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout;
But there is no joy in Houston - Mighty Pujols slammed one out.

It was a dull Tuesday afternoon in the locker room of Yankees Stadium, the day after a grueling loss in game 5 of the ALDS. Various players were milling about, cleaning out their lockers. Some were still trying to get in some workout time in the weight room, and a few sat around chatting idly. Derek Jeter was sitting by his locker, staring at a piece of paper in his hand.

Mike Mussina walked up to him. "Answering some last-minute fan mail?"

Jeter looked up, as if in a daze. "No... I wouldn't call this fan mail, exactly. Here, read it, Moose."

( I'm going to Yankees Hell for this one, so I'll LJ-cut it )

(A story of a young pitching wizard, by D. S. Rubin.)

Continued from Part 2.


Another few days passed, and it was finally time for Felix to go back up to Safeco Field for another secret training session with Moyer Wood. He brought Weasley Gonzalez with him again, and they sat in the dugout devouring a healthy breakfast of Garlic Fries, Shishkaberries, Ichirolls, and Ivardogs. It was a nice feeling, sitting there on a beautiful morning, eating their way through a pile of junk food.

"What are those?" Felix asked Weasley, pointing to an unopened box sitting on the bench.

"Oh, this is the coolest Aquasox promotion ever. Chocolate Frogs."

"They aren't, uh, chocolate molds of Aquasox players, are they?" Felix knew that the other name for the Aquasox players was the Frogs, and the idea was somewhat disturbing.

"No, they're just frogs made out of chocolate. But they each come with a random Aquasox player collectible card. Some are old, some are new. I've been trying to get one of Weasley Bloomquist's cards to use as blackmail someday."

( Read more... )

(A story of a young pitching wizard, by D. S. Rubin.)

Commissioner Dumbledore stepped forward holding a long list of names of the incoming rookies who were yet to be drafted. The Drafting Cap, having finished its poem, sat contentedly on the dugout bench, as the rookies shuffled nervously in their lines, awaiting their fate.

One by one, they walked into the dugout. The cap, which looked very old, so old you could not tell which team's insignia it held, was put onto each rookie's head as they walked in. Sometimes it would immediately scream "HUFFLEPUFF!" or whichever team, but sometimes it would take a while before it made up its mind.

Felix awaited his turn as calmly as possible, given the circumstances. Would it draft him to those despicable New York Slytherins? Or would it put him in the Boston Ravenclaws? Or perhaps the Oakland Hufflepuffs? He hoped to get into the Seattle Gryffindors; he wanted to be a pitcher, and their team could certainly use another one, that much was obvious. Plus his childhood hero, Freddy Garcia, had been a Gryffindor. The rookies thinned out their lines into teams, when at last --

"Hernandez, Felix!"

( Read more, if you dare )

General Manager McGonagall nodded. "Well, I'll speak to manager Mike Hagrid and see what he thinks about us calling up this boy early. Heaven knows, we need a better team this year. Flattened in that last series by Slytherin, I couldn't look Severus Snapebrenner in the face for weeks..."

To be continued.. if I don't get lynched for this.