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Written by Lavonne Eudy
Part Two The train stopped sometime around five p.m. Remer was still sleepy, but he was able to walk around enough. Coop was tired of propping him anyway. They met with the bus soon after and was taken to the coliseum. The other team was up first, since they were the home team. Remer was chosen to do the psyche-out.
"The Beers have had an incredible winning streak. But this will be the first time in two years that they're going up against Dakota," one announcer said. Then he turned it over to the second.
"And we all know what a good streak that The Dakota Assholes have had as well. If anyone could break their streak, it's The Assholes."
"Right you are, Bob."
The Asshole shooter, Jimmy Greg came up to bat. He studied the basket well before he got ready to strike.
"The Beers seemed to have run into a bit of bad luck on the way to this game," added the other announcer as he awaited the throw from the Asshole player. "It seems that their most valuable player was mysteriously killed on the way up to Dakota."
"So I've heard, Bob," said the other. "Rumors are flying as to the type of killing this was. But the autopsy reports indicate a severe and instant loss of blood--He's getting ready to shoot!"
The ball made a neat and quiet swoop threw the air, as suddenly Remer pounced on Jimmy. His ghastly screams took place of the sound of the swish the ball made as it went into the basket.
"An unexpected Psyche-out from Remer. But much too late. We await the umpire's call on that one."
The umpire was reviewing the screen as Remer attacked Jimmy Greg of The Assholes. Then he returned and shook his head. The psyche out made no difference.
"It looks like The Assholes are going to take home the first score tonight," said the first announcer.
"It certainly appears that way, Dave," said the second announcer. Officials went to the mound and pulled Remer off of the shaking body. Jimmy Greg was still alive--barely. They took Remer back to his team dugout, and the others patted him on the back for a nice effort.
"I should have thought of that," Coop said looking at the poor Asshole being taken away in a stretcher. He saw on the score board that he was up now for the psyche-out. He made discreet movements as the Asshole who was up to bat was steadying his shot. Then Coop turned around and had an apparent and severe erection.
"It looks like Coop is going for the classic hard-on psyche-out, Dave," said the second announcer. "Patented back in 1999, Coop's most well-known and potent psyche-out to date."
Coop eased toward the Asshole as his arms went up for the shot and brushed his erection against his hip as he said,
"Oops, sorry about that." The ball flew over the garage and was caught by a Beers fan.
"It seems the classics never die, Dave," said Bob.
Top of the ninth. The Assholes were tied with The Beers. However, the next shot was going to determine the win on either side. If The Assholes miss the shot, they would go into sudden death and whoever got the next point would win the game.
David Ramsey was the next Asshole up to the plate. Coop looked at Kevin, a player up for the psyche-out, and said, "All right" as he patted him on the shoulder, "I have a sweet psyche-out I've been saving just for this moment." He pulled Kevin closer and whispered it to him. Kevin smiled as the details spewed, nodding with enthusiasm.
Kevin approached his spot holding a tape recorder. "Hey, Ramsey," he said. "We got your mom and dad on tape fucking like dirty pigs. Wanna hear?" He pushed the play button down. It wasn't actually Ramsey's parents, but the psychology was plenty.
"Oh yes, fuck me harder, you animal!" the recorder played. "I want you fucking my love hole like it's the last pussy you'll ever have!" Then a man's voice entered the grunts and cries. "I love it when we're fucking in little Davy's bed!" The Asshole stared at it, sickened, stunned. Then he dropped backward in a faint.
"Unbelievable psyche-out by Kevin Griff!" Bob said. He turned to his right to get further commentary. Dave's eyes were incredulous. He was blanched.
"T-Those...are my parents," he said.
Bob drew his eyes slowly toward the play again. "The game is now in sudden death," he said in dramatic even-ness. "If The Beers can make this shot, they win the game. If not... Then the Assholes will get the point by default. The crowd has hushed. Dave, have you ever seen such tension?"
He looked back at Dave. He still remained in the same horror-stricken shape as last time. "Mommy?..." he said. "M-My...bed?"
"Bob drew right back to the play. "Coop steps up..."
"All my life they had me convinced I was a bed-wetter," Dave said. "All my life! But it was them all along!"
Bob drifted his eyes back to Dave. "Eeeew-ah!" he said.
Coop was getting ready to take his shot. As the Asshole was getting ready to make his psyche-out, Remer pushed past him and lunged for Coop as the ball just left his hands. They hit the ground at the same time, with Remer on top, Coop struggling, and The Asshole dumb-founded. Before Remer could bite him, Coop kneed him hard between his legs. Remer slipped off of Coop, clutching his groin.
The board read that he was psyched out and The Assholes took home the win by default since they were the last to make a score before going into sudden death.
"A strange turn of events," Bob said as it went back to the play by play, "but Coop Cooper has just been psyched out by his own teammate. It's even cost them the win!"
"Aaaaaaahhhhh!" Coop said, as the Assholes began to celebrate. Then he looked at Remer. "Goddamn it, Remer, what the hell was *that* all about!?" Remer, who was laying face-down began to float off the ground. His eyes were burning red and he had his mouth opened, hissing like a snake, and full of sharp teeth.
"I fucking asked you a question, cock!" Coop said.
"Bllllooooood!" Remer moaned.
"Y-You know what!" Coop said as he came back up to his feet. "I'm just a little too pissed off at you to even talk to you right now." Then he shot around, his finger pointed to Remer adding, "And for-get about getting a ride home on the bus, either!" He then stormed out of the field.
The rest of the team caught up with Coop.
"I'm just talking," he said, "but... does Remer seem to be acting weird or anything to anyone else?"
The rest of the team made slight vocal agreement that couldn't be denied.
"He, like, totally tried to kill me, I think," said Coop.
"Look, Coop, who isn't?" said another player.
Coop's brows knitted. "The point is," he continued, "we should keep an eye on him till he gets normal again." Just then the bus arrived. The hiss alerted the team to board. They all piled on as Coop looked back. He began to wonder if there wasn't a reasonable explanation for Remer's actions. "I'll be back," he said getting off the bus and walking back to the stadium. When he arrived inside, the place had cleared entirely. The fans, the chickens, the cleaning people--including Remer as well. Coop shrugged then went back to the bus.
