The Outlook wasn't
brilliant for the Experiments that day:
The score stood four to
two, with but one inning more to play.
And then when Plasmoid died
at first, and Sparky did the same,
A sickly silence fell upon the
patrons of the game.
A straggling few got up
to go in deep despair. The rest
Clung to that hope which springs
eternal in the human breast;
They thought, if only Slugger could
get but a whack at that -
We'd put up even money, now, with
Slugger at the bat.
But Dupe preceded
Slugger, as did also Splodyhead,
And the former was a double and
the latter burned the ball like bread;
So upon that stricken
multitude grim melancholy sat,
For there seemed but little chance
of Slugger's getting to the bat.
But Dupe let drive a
single, to the wonderment of all,
And Splodyhead, the much
despised, tore the cover off the ball;
And when the dust had
lifted, and the men saw what had occurred,
There was 619 safe at
second and Dupe a-hugging third.
Then from 5,000 throats
and more there rose a lusty yell;
It rumbled through the galaxy,
it rattled in the dell;
It knocked upon the asteroid and recoiled
upon the flat,
For Slugger, mighty Slugger, was advancing to the
bat.
There was ease in
Slugger's manner as he stepped into his place;
There was pride in
Slugger's bearing and a smile on Slugger's face.
And when,
responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat,
No stranger
in the crowd could doubt 'twas Slugger at the bat.
Ten thousand eyes were
on him as he rubbed his tail with dirt;
Five thousand tongues
applauded when he made himself alert.
Then while the writhing
pitcher ground the ball into his hip,
Defiance gleamed in
Slugger's eye, a sneer curled Slugger's lip.
And now the
leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air,
And Slugger
stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there.
Close by the sturdy
experiment the ball unheeded sped-
"That ain't my style,"
said Slugger. "Strike one," the umpire said.
From the benches, black
with people, there went up a muffled roar,
Like the beating of the
storm-waves on a stern and distant shore.
"Kill him! Kill the
umpire!" shouted someone on the stand;
And its likely they'd
a-killed him had not Slugger raised his tail.
With a smile of
Christian charity great Slugger's visage shone;
He stilled the
rising tumult; he bade the game go on;
He signaled to the pitcher,
and once more the spheroid flew;
But Slugger still ignored it, and
the umpire said, "Strike two."
"Fraud!"
cried the maddened thousands, and echo answered fraud;
But one
scornful look from Slugger and the audience was awed.
They saw his
face grow stern and cold, they saw his tail strain,
And they knew
that Slugger wouldn't let that ball go by again.
The sneer is gone from
Slugger's lip, his teeth are clenched in hate;
He pounds with
cruel violence his tail 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 Slugger's blow.
Oh, somewhere in this
favored land the sun is shining bright;
Hamsterviel is locked up
somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light,
And somewhere Jumba's
evil, and somewhere children shout;
But there is no joy in Kauai -
mighty Slugger has struck out.