Somewhere in a Florida diner…
You’re fat. Also, reprehensible. And a lousy closer.
You’re loud and abrasive.
I just tweeted about how much you suck. LOL.
I’m gonna tell ESPN about that time we caught you in the clubhouse nekkid with a box of Frankenberry.
::seethes::
::gnashes teeth::
Gentlemen.
Hey. Aren’t you…?
I’m Terry Francona. I solve problems.
Good. We got one.
So I heard. May I sit down?
Please do.
Let’s get down to brass tacks, gentlemen. If this war of the words continues, Bud Selig won’t be very appreciative. So we’re going to nip this in the bud. Bobby, you realize that you’re a member of the Boston Red Sox now, correct?
Yes.
And that Ozzie, as your former boss, now has very little say over what you have to think or do. Correct?
Aw, man, he never listened to me when I was his boss. This is bullshit.
Get it straight buster; I’m not interested in what you think. I’m here to tell you what to do and if self-preservation is an instinct you possess you’d better f$%king do it and do it quick. I’m here to help put this silly-ass feud to bed. If my help’s not appreciated, then lotsa luck paying off Bud’s fines, gentlemen.
Naw, man. It ain’t like that. Your help is definitely appreciated.
Alright, then. We got roughly one month until the season starts and I’ll be damned if I’m putting up with this crap for the next 30 days. I don’t care if you don’t like each other, but I’m gonna make sure this goes away. Ozzie, give Bobby here your word that you’re done giving him shit.
Eh. Alright. I suppose I can always pick on Cora instead.
And Bobby. You’re a Red Sox now and we need to move on. You understand that? Or do I need to put it in hamburger terms?
No, no. I’m good.
Excellent. Now shake hands and we’ll call it a day. I’ve got a spring training game to manage.
::Teets gets up to leave::
Hey any chance I can get a ride to Camelback?
To f#$king Phoenix? In your future… I see a cab ride… and a flight. Move out of the desert, buddy.
Apologies to Tarantino.
