Apartment 643 (last part)

After getting him the first ice cream sundae of his life, it looked like I was going to get my Hickory roommate Slater laid for the first time too. Y’all know how I said he was looking at the all the ice cream when he walked into Udderly Delicious for the first time? Ok, that’s how he was looking at Spring’s rack one she’d cleaned the hot fudge off his face.

So the only question was where they were going to do it. Slater had a cubicle-sized bedroom like the rest of us did back at apartment 643, but it wasn’t the best place for a first time. All there was was his bed and Miley Cyrus looking down from the wall…and I didn’t want to be on the other side of a very thin wall when Slater discovered the one thing in the world that might be better than ice cream. I didn’t know where Spring lived or if she had a roommate, but I was hoping she could take Slater home with her.

I lucked out.

“Why don’t you come back to my place?,” she asked Slater, who was still hypnotized by her rack. “We can take my car and Summer can go with Hunter.”

I was down for that. Sometimes things turn out the way you want them to. This was one of those times.

So Summer and me got into my car, and Spring drove off with Slater.

“I hope she doesn’t bring him back too late. We have BP early tomorrow.”

“What is it with ice cream and your buddy?”

“He never had any until last night. He’s got a crazy mother and she had him on this fucked up training diet from the time he was six or something. You should see the protein powders and vitamins and shit he’s got locked up in a special cupboard in the kitchen. His mom put the lock on. She was afraid me and Jesus would steal his shit.”

So I took Summer back to her place and we hung out a while. (The answer to y’all’s question is: No…well…kinda.) Then I headed home. Slater wasn’t there.

I got into bed but left my door open. I wanted to hear him when he came in and make sure he was okay and that I hadn’t ruined one of the best prospects in the Rangers system lol.

He didn’t get back until after 3:00.

I turned on my light to get a good look at him. He was smiling…and pretty much looked like a normal dude who’d just gotten a big dose of vitamin F.

I told him he should get to sleep since we had that early BP. He could tell me about Spring when he was having one of his gross protein shakes for breakfast.

He asked if he could have some of the ice cream in the freezer before going to sleep. He looked like he’d burned off a lot of calories…so I told him to go for it. I wasn’t sure it was safe to leave him alone with a scoop and a spoon and a brick of ice cream, but I’d burned off some calories of my own with Charlene and played a whole ballgame that afternoon and I was tired.

So I reckon Slater must have been exhausted lol.

He was still up before me and was and putting shit in the blender before I got started on my breakfast. He was smiling like an idiot. And – I’m not kidding here – he was fuckin whistling.

“Do you think I should put a scoop of ice cream in this?,” he said, pointing to the blender.

“Go for it, man.”

I didn’t want to be selfish or anything, but a minor league ball player doesn’t have a whole lot of room in a budget for ice cream…and Slater was starting to make a big dent in my supply. Turns out I didn’t even have to ask him to contribute. He loved going to the Kroger and staring at all the flavors they had. There were a couple times when I had to stop him from buying more than our freezer would hold lol.

So…what about BP the morning after Slater stopped being a lameass virgin? I was afraid he’d suck and I’d get blamed for it. I didn’t need to worry: the kid was on fuckin fire that morning. There was nothing he couldn’t hit…and everything he hit went out of the park. I think our equipment guys were getting pissed off at all the balls we were losing.

He was so fuckin good that morning that a couple of the guys dumped a cooler of ice water over his head. (That’s the minor league version of a Gatorade shower. We couldn’t afford to waste Gatorade in Hickory.)

So what did he do after he got soaked by a couple outfielders? Run away? Cry? Call his crazy mother to say we’d been mean to him again?

Nope. None of the above.

He said “fuck you” to the guys who’d drenched him. That’s once he stopped laughing.

The thing I wanted to know was: was that the ice cream talking…or the vitamin F?