911's Area Code

Theo Epstein was examining and trying out his new gorilla suit. What a wonder of modern design he thought as he slipped it on and starred at himself in the mirror. He felt...

"Theo, I thought we talked about the gorilla suit..."

Theo twisted around and starred at his boss John Henry through the slits in the suit. John shook his head in disgust.

"Is that a gun?"

"Oh, "said Theo gingerly picking it up. "Yup, yup, ah yes sir. Old World War I gun...with trigger action and..."

"You with a loaded gun...that's not good."

"Relax, "said Theo. "It's not like its loaded. I picked it up on Ebay. Thought I'd collect some antiques myself. "

"Now that you've wrecked mine I see."

If only Theo had not aimed the gun at John Henry while making that revelation. If only Theo would have reacted in time as the blast of gun powder blazed through the air. However, Theo did not and witnessed John crashing on the ground.

"You...idiot..." cried John as the bullet struck his shoulder. "Moron, "cried John as his body struck the ground. "Stupid, "cried John as he looked up at Theo's face.

"Oh, no, "cried Theo. "oh, no...it was loaded..."

"Get...help."

Of course thought Theo. What a fool he was. He ran to the phone. He couldn't think of the number. He called 411.

"Hello 411 what city please..."

"Ah...Boston...ya..."

"What?"

"Boston..."

"I can't understand you sir. You sound like you're in a gorilla suit."

Theo promptly threw off the mask.

"Yes, I need the number for emergency."

"That's...911 sir. I can connect you..."

Before Theo could do that he dropped the phone and promptly started to dial the number. In the background John Henry could be heard throwing curses in the air.

"Oh crap...911...what's the area code?"

Theo called back 411 desperate for an answer.

"411...what city..."

"Boston..."

"How may I help you."

"What's the area code of Boston?"

"617...and what number..."

Theo quickly hung up the phone. He dialed 617 911 and waited. In the meantime John's tones were becoming fainter by the second. The curses that John spat out were less vociferous in nature.

"It's not working....crap it's not working."

Theo hung up in panic. He dialed 617 911-9119 desperate to get an idea.

"Hello."

"I need help...my boss has been shot."

"What is this? Call 911, what ya bugging me for."

"I'm trying but I don't know the number. Help me!"

A long pause followed.

"Is this Candid Camera or something?"

"No, I need the number for 911 to call for help."

"It's 911..."

"I tried. I dialed 617 911 and it doesn't work."

Theo could hear howling laughter in the background.

"Just...no wait, is this a reality TV show. OK now I know what's next. What's the questions I'm asked? OK...ah...hello?"

'No, I'm Theo Epstein..."

A long pause followed.

"Shut up. You ain't no Theo Epstein so really, what's my prize!"

"No, no..." said Theo trying to act confident. In the background Henry's breathing was becoming labored. Theo was so panicked he hung up and ran to John.

"I tried John, I really did but there is no way to dial 911."

Theo felt his throat being choked and a smile grew on John's lips. Already his life signs were starting to return to normal.

"Just..." cried John.

Theo's head shook to the left.

"Dial..." cried John.

Theo's head swung to the right.

"9-1-1." cried John.

Theo nodded.

"I tried..."

Theo's head struck the desk.

"Dial...9......1........1"

Theo nodded. He ran back to the desk stepping over John's wounded shoulder. The scream could have cracked glass. He paused as the scream ran through the room.

"Oh, I get it. You dial 911!"

Theo punched in the numbers. He felt so proud.

"911 what is your emergency."

"Oh thank goodness. I've been trying to reach you guys forever. I dial 617 911 and then I dial 617 911-9119 and nothing!"

"Sir...what is the nature of the emergency and who's that screaming."

"Oh ya, I just shot my boss...but he's OK."

Theo heard nothing for several seconds...

"Just stay right where you are. We're going to take care of the situation...oh are you Theo Epstein?"

"Ya, "said Theo.

"Theo...did you shoot John Henry...again. Oh what are we going to do with you. Now relax and tell us where you are."

Theo hung up and walked over to John Henry,

"They're sending help John. They just need to know where we are. "

Theo nodded and sat down satisfied that help was on the way. They just needed to know where they were. For some reason Theo had a nagging feeling he forgot something but then he remembered. He needed a quart of milk at the store. He ran out in a hurry. The store was closing at 5:00 pm.

THE END

The Gorilla Suit

Theo Epstein sat amidst the chaos of John Henry's busy office. Papers were everywhere and John Henry's hair, normally in place, was frazzled as he starred at his intrepid and often hapless manager.

"So, been doing any shopping lately?"

John's smile was so wry that Theo simply tapped his fingers on his desk before leaning back and trying to look relaxed. It might have helped if Theo didn't tip the chair over sending himself and the chair to the ground.

"No...don't think so...sir, "said Theo.

As Theo scrambled to recover and get his back and chair into position again John was swinging his head back and forth like a pendulum.

"You know Theo, that pitcher for Oakland...we own him. I mean the Sox can pound him into the ground. I mean we own him. "

"Yes sir, "said Theo sitting down and crossing his leg, which inadvertently knocked John's once-priceless vase on the floor. Theo watched it slowly fall to the ground and explode. John wasn't too far behind the vase.

"Yet apparently this morning, "snapped John slowly raising his voice and body at the same time, "we really do own him!"

Theo felt the sweat drip down his neck like a leaky faucet.

"Well you know..."

John was now sitting down again. He sighed and turned towards the floor.

"You haven't been wearing the gorilla suit again...in public, "said John.

"No sir..." said Theo with confidence.

"Good because the last time you did it we have a whopping contract with Julio Lugnuts..."

"Lugo...sir."

John leaned down and starred him in the face.

"L-U-G-N-U-T-S".

"Lugnuts...got it sir."

John walked over and started picking up the pieces of his vase.

"Sorry Theo, just a little tense these days...with a promised World Series ring going down the drain faster than Fat Albert and Felix the Cat."

"Right, "said Theo smiling again. He stretched his belly exposing the Star Trek shirt underneath his coat.

"I knew it, "screamed John pulling up the sweater, "the last time you wore a Star Trek shirt we had a whopping contract with J.D. Dope. Now why can't you wear the red one! The guys who wear the red ones always get killed in the original series. It's been my dream Theo. Every time I watch the original series I dream its you in those red uniforms so for the love of baseball give me liberty Theo or give me your death. "

"Ah sir, it's Drew..."

"D-O-P-E. "

Theo was so nervous that when he swung his leg he kicked the glass of the table sending it across the room smashing into a priceless painting of George Washington.

"Sorry Theo, I forgot to child-proof the room...again. I should have known better. First the world was deprived of a priceless Dead Sea Scrolls document and now the world will be without one more George Washington painting and a priceless vase from Greece!"

"I didn't...wear...the Gorilla...suit...sir."

John sat down again. Theo noticed a small tear. He reached over to grab the tissue spilling the boiling hot coffee on John's chest. A slight eruption in pain came off of John's face.

"That really hurt...I just wanted you to know that Theo...."

Theo sat down again, tipped back and sent his chair onto the ground.

"I'd help you Theo but I have second degree burns on my skin that require immediate medical attention...excuse me while I call an ambulance as well as my shrink. I think I need another session. "

"No problem sir, "said Theo feeling a ripple of pain down his back. I understand. You know sir, too bad we don't have Dice-K. We really needed that arm this year..."

Theo waited for a response.

"Excuse me Theo...I just need to get my gun out. Betsy's been hungry for a shooting...now where do you want it?"

Theo closed his eyes and thought of the gorilla suit...which gave him a great trade idea. He pondered the idea of Adrian Gonsalez and Jacobe Ellsbury for Adam LaRouche. That surely would calm John's nerves especially if he wore the gorilla suit! Nevertheless as John got up, frazzled, coffee burns on his chest, a priceless vase destroyed, a priceless George Washington painting destroyed and a convenient target that gave John an almost insane smile, Theo realized he had other things on his mind.

THE END

Robert Bumm is back

Hello Red Sox fans. Here's some news mainly because my boss says I'm fired unless I write a column that nobody reads. OK, here it is.

First, Julio Lugo is back in the news. After the nineteen inning game between the Pirates and the Braves, Lugo makes a comment about he was safe because he couldn't feel anyone tag him. Here's a note about not sounding like Lugo. Don't use the word 'feel' when describing the tag. It indicates you've been longing for something that baseball can't give you...nor would anyone else want to give you and if they do I'd advice against it. That's just me.

Second, the Sox are winning but need more starting pitching. Everyone is waiting for Theo Epstein to make another stupid move again sending the Red Sox into another decay. The Sox survived Eric Gagne (barely) and survived Dice-K (sort of) and survived Drew (we're still working on that one) and Penny and Smotz and so on. Frankly, I say leave it alone as Theo hasn't a clue about getting the right pitcher. However, here are some hints.

1) Pick a pitcher that throws strikes (that means no Dice-K types), doesn't have control problems (Miller) or injury problems (Jenks), doesn't panic under pressure (Lackey) and doesn't give up fifteen runs a game (Lackey, Penny, Miller). I realize this is a tall order for Theo who still thinks a gorilla suit is going undercover so we as fans can only hope for more agony.

Third, let's give praise to a team that is really coming together. Ever since Drew got out of the lineup my headache went away and I now see a lineup that's solid. OK, Scatterthrow, er, Scutaro has issues but he really hasn't been that bad...mostly.

OK that's it for now. Hopefully my boss will stop shouting at me about doing my job. I mean what's he got left, Joe Derive? Na!

Robert Bumm

Hi, I'm Robert Bumm. Joe Derive will be taking a small extended vacation after crashing his car into his bosses home, which didn't go over well with the boss for some reason. I probably shouldn't have suggested that to Joe but I wanted his job so that was OK.

Anyway, that gives me a chance to take over his column. I know you've never heard of me and please don't call me Bob Bum. I know I have the unfortunate reality of having just about the worst surname in human history (OK I could have had Weiner) so lets save time and not do a joke I've heard a billion times over.

Now on to the Red Sox.

The Red Sox are in first place having swept the Seattle Mariners They did it without J.D. Drew striking out fifteen hundred times or grounding into a thousand double plays. I am convinced J.D. thinks he can wear out the opposing team by sending every ball hit to the shortstop or second baseman tiring them out to exhaustion. Certainly it doesn't help he has a boat anchor for a bat. That thing alone would probably break his foot if he ever dropped it on it. J.D. probably needs to be told that strategy hasn't worked. Trust me, Julio Lugo tried it and for the entire length of his contract in Boston.

Then we have Clay Buckholtz who seems to forget he's in the major leagues and not playing pick up basketball with the over 50 crowd at the YMCA. Ya Clay, you have to play through pain and while lower back pain is a problem, look over at Kevin Youkilis and his sprained hand and banged up body and ask yourself "am I a total idiot." The answer is yes in case you didn't know so get back into game.

Then we have Dice-K. He's working out in Florida, his new workout facility for the past three years. Ya he took a bit of a break last year but he's back at it. I have to wonder why the Sox are paying him to do...what exactly? I mean is he contributing? So you're paying a guy over 55 million dollars to exercise. Oh, that's not good. Maybe he could sell Dice-K t-shirts or Dice-K toys at McDonalds or something. Or maybe he could sell popcorn during home team baseball games or help with that tarp during games or do some painting or something. Just a thought.

Then we have Daniel Bard, the most underrated player on the team. He's never allowing a run while Jonathan Papelbon seems to make blowing games an art form. Course now he doesn't blow the game, mostly. He just gives up a run or two to give the opposing team something to do instead of getting outs. Course next year he'll probably be wearing pinstripes with the Yankees. I hate Papelbon.

Overall, despite my complaining, I find the Red Sox an amazing team -- I do. I mean for all their setbacks they keep winning games. Course they win against Baltimore and Seattle and other teams but the real test is August when they face the toughest teams in the league with New York and the Rays and so forth. I just hope Clay is back and stops whining and Jon Lester is back and Tim Wakefield doesn't think wins with grand slams count. We'll see.

I'm Bob Bumm...oh now I'm doing it. See ya next time.

Sox beat Rays

Hi, I'm Joe Derive and its 4:30 in the morning after the Sox beat the New York Rays in the twenty fiftth hundredth inning. I'm Joe Derive and I'm at Arnie's celebrating..."

"You're drunk, " smiled Arnie who put another plate of food on the table. Arnie looked tired with red eyes but he seemed full of energy.

"With me is my special guest Alfredo Aceves or something like that who won the game."

"Joe, I can't eat any more food here. I'm stuffed."

Joe leaned over smelling of Bud Lite and every other beer known to man and said, "you were hungry in the game...and I gotta tell ya Alfred, you're putting on some weight here..."

Joe watched Alfredo get up and storm out not looking happy.

"Oh that didn't go over...well. Anyway the New Jersey Rays..."

"Florida...Florida Rays Joe."

Joe leaned in as Arnie moved away from his bad breath.

"You are the nicest man in the world. You let me and my crew knock continuously on your door at 4:00 am in the morning screaming and yelling to wake you up to open up this place to me and my crew and you did it. You did it. I love you Arnie."

"Ya, that's fine Joe. Now eat and order."

Joe leaned in on the camera.

"Anyway, old Dustin Pedroia made the final hit or something like that. I mean the Sox became the Sox. They were heroes..."

Joe leaned back.

"Anyway, I'm here at Arnie's restaurant. Having the best imported beer in the world all the way from New Zealand. Arnie broke out this New Zealand Bud Lite, and you know its from New Zealand because I see New Zealand written with a sharpie right here and at only $75 dollars a bottle, Arnie is the best. "

"Sorry about the cost Joe but with the new 50% sales tax in this state its a killer. "

Joe shrugged.

"Arnie, you're the best. No worries. How much is the bill anyway?'

"About 15 thousand dollars right now but don't worry. I can give you a discount."

Joe's tears drained from his face.

"You're the best Arnie but don't worry. We'll pay in full. Don't try to talk me out of it. You can beg and scream but I'm paying in full with a 50% tip."

"OK, "said Arnie shrugging and walking away.

"You know I don't remember paying this amount before but that's OK. Maybe Arnie charges more for this imported pizza from Italy. Arnie told me he had the pizza flown in the night before just for me. What a guy. It was worth the fifteen hundred dollars for it. I had no idea that Pizza Hut pizza was made in Italy."

Joe leaned towards the camera.

"Anyway, that team is amazing and to deal with the greatest, greatest Red Sox in history is going to be awesome. Pedroia and Peckett and Papybon and all those others including Danny Band. Ah the bill."

Joe picked it up as tears welted in his eyes.

"Fourteen thousand nine hundred and ninety nine dollars. Arnie even gave me a small discount of a thousand dollars or something. Arnie take my credit card. It the bosses anyway. He won't mind. "

Arnie shook Joe's hand and said, "It was worth being woken up in the middle of the night just to serve you Joe. Thanks and can i include a 90% tip.'


Joe got up standing straight.

"Of course Arnie. Anything for you because you would never take advantage of a great guy like you. "

He then fell over on the ground. Arnie waved the card and it got approved. He smiled at the crew.

"Anytime folks anytime."

Arnie yawned and smiled.

"I think I can close early today."


Join us next time as Joe explains to his boss how One hundred and thirty thousand dollars got charged to his credit card.

Tito's Day Off

8:30 AM
It had been a rather long time since Tito could just lie in bed while his wife got up and roamed the household. Tito stretched out his body and admired the sheets and the pillows and most of all the quiet. He could only hear birds and an occasional lawnmower in the background. Rest, that was his diet for today.

"OK, I'm going, leave the phone on in case I need anything but your job today dear is to get rest. I'll see you at 12:30."

Tito smiled and said nothing. Instead he rolled his head on the pillow and thought of nobody bothering him. Not 'Boy Genius' Theo Epstein, not David Ortiz or Drew or anyone else. No whining, no complaining, no injury reports or anything else. He rolled on the pillow waving his wife goodbye and fell asleep.

9:00 am
The knock woke up Tito. It was incessant and then the doorbell rang. Tito sprang from his bed unable to figure out where the door was until he faced it and opened it.
He saw a young girl, or young to him, looking about twenty seven with a bursting perkiness that made Tito wince.

"Hello Sir. I understand you are a Comcast subscriber and AT&T is here to..."

She just went on and on and Tito could only focus on the heat that was pouring into his air conditioned home.

"Ah miss, no thank you."

She paused and looked at him with that perky personality.

"Wait a minute, I know you..."

Her eyes were lighting up. Oh no, thought Tito. A star struck idiot.

"You're Joe Girardi. Oh man I am such a Yankee fan. I want you to know that I think Terry Francona and the Red Sox are a bunch of big shots and idiots. I will never be a Red Sox fan. "

Tito fell between laughter and temper.

"OK well..."

"Could I get your autograph."

It was then that Tito slammed the door and ran back to bed. If anything there was one less Yankee fan in the world. He crashed in bed and fell asleep.

9:15 am.
The doorbell banged on his head as Tito once again was forced to get up and walk to the door. A nice man with a tie and shirt, dripping with sweat was standing there as if he was about to die a slow and long death but was willing to give last rights to Tito.

"Hello Sir, are you having problems with your Comcast Service? I'm from AT&T and I'm here to..."

He went on and on and Tito felt nausea from the heat.

"Wait a minute, oh God, you're Patrick Stewart of Star Trek. Oh man I am...oh I hope I'm not bothering you and all. Make it so right?"

Tito nodded and smiled. He knew the 'Make it so' line from Star Trek.

"So what are you doing now? I take it you're too old for parts but there must be something out there. "

"Porn, I do porn."

Tito then slammed the door cursing the world and running back to bed. No more disturbances.

9:30 am
The doorbell rang and then Tito realized the sound was wrong. he ran back to the phone and picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Hello sir. I'm calling for the American Society to benefit Tie Wearers. We're a non profit organization designed to provide ties and bowties to the underprivileged. We're asking..."

Tito slammed the phone down and cursed the phone but then calmed down and put himself at bed.

9:45 am
Tito once again headed towards the door with a sledge hammer of a temper as he ripped the door open.

"What?"

He saw two people with white shirts and black ties. They were carrying black books on the side of the body. Tito knew exactly who they were.

"Hello sir. Can we talk to you a bit about..."

Tito slammed the door. He wanted sleep. He was desperate for sleep but as he approached the bed he heard himself curse. He laughed despite himself and fell back into bed.

10:01 am and 10 seconds.
That's 10 seconds that it took for a tired, worn out Tito Francona to run to the door.

"Hello Sir. I'm from AT&T and we're..."

"You are the third person today to disturb my sleep. Do you have any idea what its like to have phone calls and constant door opening..."

Tears dripped from her face. Tito felt terrible inside.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean..."

"It's OK, "she said. "I just thought that someone as famous as Gene Hackman would show a bit more compassion but I guess those roles you play in films are more than accurate.."

"Look, I'm sorry really."

Her smile returned. She perked right up.

"Good then you'll obviously want to drop Comcast and turn yourself over to AT&T and find.."

Tito wasn't sure how hard he slammed the door but it was enough to feel wind blow in his face.

10:15 am.
Tito picked up the phone.,

"Hello, I'm calling today for Representative..."

Tito hung up the phone.

10:16 am.
Tito picked up the phone.

"Hello, we seen to have been disconnected. I'm calling for representative..."

Tito smashed the phone with his hand. It would no longer haunt his very soul.

10:30 am.
Tito grabbed a sheet of paper and wrote the words "Do Not Disturb." Tito grabbed it and opened the door.

"Hello Sir. I'm with Rotten Roach and we're here to deal with your pest problems..."

Tito placed the sign on the door and taped it on.

"Don't worry, when it comes to best this Do-Not-Disturb sign will take care of everything."

Tito then grabbed the door and slammed it shut.

10:35 am.
Tito carried a large frying pan in his hand as he approached the door and waved it over his head.

"What?"

"Oh my god. Harry Morgan from MASH. Oh this is so cool."

"What...do...you...want?"

"I want to talk to you about your lawn. It really is in a state of agony crying out for attention don't you think?"

"I...want...to...kill..."

"Don't kill the lawn Mr. Morgan..."

Tito threw the frying pan past the man who ducked.

"That's it. Get out."

Tito slammed the door.

11:30 am
Tito was now on the verge of insanity. He grabbed a chainsaw and revved it as he approached the door. He opened it up. A young girl ran screaming from the door. Tito felt satisfied.

11:45 am.
Tito cursed again and ran to the door. Blasted doorbell he cursed.

"I want to talk to you about my daughter. You are a monster and I was such a fan of yours on Gilligan's Island. How can you call yourself the Professor and scare my little girl..."

"I am not the Russell Johnson or Gene Hackman or Joe Girardi or Patrick Stewart or anybody else. I am a man wanting a day off from being bugged."

Tito grabbed the chainsaw and cut apart the doorbell watching sparks fly into the air. He laughed as she ran down the street. He then cursed the place and ran back to bed.

12:30 pm
Tito felt the stroking of his wife. It didn't matter anymore. He could not go back to sleep.

"Honey are you OK?"

"What is it?"

"Well a frying pan in the yard for one thing, a torn up door from a chainsaw and you look exhausted. Tito, you did sleep didn't you."

Tito looked up.

"Honey, I can't wait to get back to the Red Sox. Trying to sleep is too exhausting. "

Tim Wakefield and the tire

Mrs. Tim Wakefield hugged her husband feeling the warmth she had known for so long. She welcomed him in and watched him play with the kids. The All Star Break was here and she would have him for three whole days.

"Dad, can you repair the tire?"

Mrs. Wakefield felt her muscles tighten on her face when she said, "now you know what happened the last time your father tried to fix something. Remember our family saying!"

"Mom, we are not saying remember the gas stove! The insurance gave us a new house anyway!"

Tim smiled and said, "no problem. We can get a new tube and replace that in no time. No problem."

"Honey, "she said. "Now you be careful my love..."

Tim walked out despite her protests as she watched him leave she shuddered but then realized it was going to be OK.

...

It was later when she was washing dishes and listened as her husband came up the stairs beside him. Her face spoke volumes.

"Tim, what happened? You have green goo all over you?"

"Ya, that tube blew and sprayed me with some sort of sealant but don't worry...I'm not giving up yet."

"Tim, you can. You really can...remember...no I'm not going to say it."

She shook her head as he went into the shower. Then she wondered how he could have failed at such a thing.

...
It was later when she was cleaning the carpet and listened to her husband come up the stairs.

"Need a new tube. That one...didn't do it right...oozed and...not good. Try another brand"

She nodded as he ran out the door. He looked discouraged.

...
It was later when she heard a lot gunshot and ran down the stairs. What had he done. Did they own a shotgun?

"Tim are you OK?"

She saw the tire that blew and the rubber tube sprayed all over Tim's body.

"Overinflation dear?"

"Ya, "said Tim.

...
It was later when she heard yet another loud gunshot and ran down the stairs. She had had enough.

"That's it Tim..."

"But..."

"No buts Tim...we have spent now over $40 dollars on tubes with an average of $9.00 a piece. We are going to stop this madness very soon and hire someone to do it. Please Tim."

"Ya, "said Tim. "But I can do it..."

She sighed.

...
It was later when she was tucking her son into bed.

"Dad still doing it mom?"

"Yes but he heard a YouTube video so I think he's on the right track.

She jumped as she heard another gunshot sound.

"Can't we pay someone for this mom?"

She shook her head.

"Remember the stove. "