The Dickie August Story-Chapter 4 - the 3 Conditions

Dickie let out a ferocious yell as he celebrated his accomplishment. Or, to be accurate, he celebrated the alet’s accomplishment. When Dickie finally regained his composure, he turned and looked at this friend. Cass took 4 or 5 steps towards the pitcher’s mound before stopping to speak. “Are you saying that you just threw 90 miles an hour?

Dickie nodded.

“Ok-How?” Questioned Cass. “How you did that would be the question right now, Dickie.” Dickie shook his head from side to side. Not expecting this to work, he had no immediate answers for Cass. He silently stood there searching his brain for a quick response.

Cass moved several steps closer. “Dickie?”

Dickie laughed as he finally came up with an answer. “I’ve been working out my boy and found the right combination of weights, cardio and diet.” Dickie looked away, hoping Cass had bought his hasty explanation.

Dickie heard nothing and decided to look back at Cass. Cass showed a big grin on his face. “Really?” He questioned. “And what might that combination be, as I would also like to use it?” Dickie wiped the nervous sweat off his brow. “Well, yeah – you can work out with me if you like.” He felt he had successfully dodged the question and now would have more time to construct better answers. He knew many more serious questions would be headed his way.

“You feel like catching more?”

“Why not? Let’s see what else you got.” Joked Cass.

Over the next 20 minutes Dickie threw whatever he wanted and whenever he wanted to. He threw 90 mhp fastballs and located them exactly where he wanted. He chose not to throw over 90, fearing that Cass’ head might just explode. He mixed in a few of his actual pitches in the hopes that Cass might not think he was a bionic robot that replaced the real Dickie. Although, Dickie was certain Cass would have some theories about the transformation. Dickie tossed in a vicious 12 o’clock to 6 o’clock curveball that looked unhittable to Cass. His split fingered fastball was devastating and just dropped off the table.

As the two finished, they walked off the diamond at Lyons field.

“Dickie?” Inquired Cass as he opened his car door.

Dickie looked back before entering his car.

“Can you teach what you’re doing? I mean really – who doesn’t even play high school baseball and then 2 years later, can pitch like that?” “Yeah, sure. I can try.” Offered Dickie as he drove away.

Dickie’s head was swimming with dreams, excitement, concerns and utter amazement at what just happened to him.

Dickie drove and drove, ending up in downtown Boston. He wasn’t all that sure how he made there, but he really didn’t care.

Before returning home, Dickie phoned Martha and they decided to meet the next day at her auction house to see what was next.

Dickie was on the road early the next morning. He grabbed a large cup of coffee for the ride and made his way. As he arrived, he quickly made his way in the side door. He looked around and saw Martha conversing on a cell phone, sitting on a blue love seat that may or may not be for sale.

As Dickie approached her, Martha motioned him to sit next to her, on a Victorian chair. “A reproduction chair.” Dickie thought.

3 Conditions

She ended her phone call. “Ok- Dickie – they want 1 million dollars each year.”

Dickie raised his eye brows. “Is that all?” He said sarcastically.

“Oh- no – not entirely- there are two more conditions.”

“One million bucks a year is not enough, uh? Ok –2 more conditions- what else?”

Martha got serious. “At some point, they may want you to visit them.”

“Visit them?” Dickie stood up. “Visit them where? Where are these people?”

Martha gestured to Dickie to sit. “Calm down.”

“Are they going to do tests on me and take off my head?”

Martha laughed – as she did a good amount of spit slide down her chin.

Dickie winced at the sight.

“NO.NO.NO. They will only interview you to see about your experience with the alet. Nothing more. Consider this; if they wanted to hurt you, don’t you think they could have already?”

Dickie hated to agree with Martha, but… “Well, I guess so. And what is the last…wait a second, are you one of them?” Martha blushed at the suggestion. “No my boy, just a human like you. They contacted me a few years ago and asked for my help. They are very shy and normally do not directly contact humans.”

“So, what is their goal? Why play with us? What do they want?” Dickie asserted.

Martha stretched her legs on the love seat. “Believe it or not, they want us to all get along. Giving you the alet is for your own good. You see Dickie, they want you to do with your life what you love to do. And, should giving you that option make you especially happy, then your life and existence will be better. They may offer the alet to more humans based on your experience. Peace and happiness in the world type of stuff.” Dickie cracked his knuckles in a nervous way as he listened.

“You see my son; this is your opportunity to enjoy a great life. Should you crash and burn and end up on drugs or booze and washed up, our friends may not think too much of the human race.”

Dickie injected. “But why the million bucks a year? I mean, what does money mean to them?”

“Oh, it is not for them. It is payment for folks like me – folks who help them. I think that is a very fair number, don’t you? Let me ask you, Dickie, how much can the best baseball players make in one season?”

“Ok- I get your point. But, I might not make that kind of money during my first few years. They can pay you a lot less than that to start.” Martha stood and looked down her long nose, wart and all. “You have 6 months to make the first payment. If you don’t pay us 1 million dollars in 6 months, I take the alet back.” She raised her voice. “You got that?”

“Yeah- fine- I get it.” Replied Dickie with a slight quiver in his voice.

Martha pointed to the door. “Good luck, Dickie. Go and live life. Oh – and you’re welcome.”

As Dickie drove home he was thrilled at the opportunity ahead of him. Yet, he had more questions than answers to his new ability. “Wait a second.” He thought. “She said there were 3 conditions - There was the million bucks per season they wanted and then I may have to visit them. Wherever the hell that would be.”

What else is there?

His heart started to race. “But, she never told me what the final condition was!”

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