A cell phone rings late in the afternoon...

(Author's note: I had to beat the evil Beazer to the punch...)

Hello?
Bronson, what's up, man? I didn't expect you to pick up—don't you guys have a game or something?
Yeah, I just ran into the clubhouse to take a leak. Too much gatorade.
Well take the phone with you, dude, I have to tell you all about my two-hitter!
Two-hitter? C'mon, Lenny, last I checked, you threw four walks in a row in the first inning. Crap, you find new and exciting ways to blow it, don't you?
Yeah, but that's the beauty of walks, man, they're not hits. Two hits, B, and my first major league win! I feel like a new man.
I don't get it. You walked home a run and they let you finish the game?
Hell no, they pulled me after five. But I only gave up two runs. That cut my ERA like in half, dude! OK, maybe not in half, but I'm telling you, B, I'm moving on up. They love me again!
<flushing sound>
B, you listening to me?
Yeah, I'm here, just have to zip up... I don't know, dude, you sound delusional.
Hey, why can't you just be happy for me? I didn't rain on your parade when you had your little winning streak, which I noticed is over.
Well at least my streak was more than one game. And you can't blame me for that loss, dude. It isn't my fault my whole team forgot how to hit.
Jeez, man, now you sound like Wakefield. "They don't give me any run support..."
What? How'd I get dragged into this?
No offense, I'm just trying to make a point to my so-called friend here... Anyway, listen B, I gotta run. Tek took some big-time heat off me with a grand salami, so I owe him.
Let me guess. Breakfast.
I don't know, he keeps saying it's something more "personal," whatever that means. And, um, Bronson <whispering> he's looking at me kind of funny. It's creeping me out.
Ha ha, don't worry dude, he doesn't bite... much... <muffled laughter>
Tek, you ready to go?
Bronson, save me...
Sorry, Cap'n, he's your problem now. <click>