Twins at Los Angeles in Anaheim. Angels 6, Twins 3.
Scott Baker was sleeping happily, his stuffed TC Bear tucked sweetly into his arms, a small smile spread softly over his baby-soft face, when suddenly a strange feeling of dread washed over him. He was not alone in the room. Someone was there with him, standing over his bed looking intently at him, someone….not human.
Suppressing a girly-scream, Baker unconsciously hugged his TC closer to him and slowly opened his eyes. What he saw chilled him to his very bones.
"Nutty!" he breathed.
"Hello, Scott Baker," murmured Nutty.
"What are you doing?" Baker asked, clutching his blanket to him. "Are you okay?"
"No, Scott Baker," said Nutty, in an eerie cool voice, like the calm before the storm. "No, I'm not okay. We have to have a talk."
"Now?" gulped Baker. "Can't it wait?" The truth was, he did not like the look in the protective cup's eyes, no, he did not like it one bit.
"No, Scott Baker," said Nutty, his voice low and threatening. "We have to talk now. Have you seen this?"
Nutty handed Baker a newspaper, which is sort of strange because he doesn't have hands.
"Yeah," sighed Baker. "I know. If I don't pitch bueno today they're going to send me down."
"You know?" said Nutty. "You know?"
"Well…sure."
"Why didn't you tell me?" shrieked the cup.
Baker rolled his eyes. "Nutty, I don't tell you everything, you know. It's not like we're married or something."
Nutty's eyes narrowed. "That's right, Scott Baker. That's right. We're not married. I am your athletic cup and I can make you or I can break you, you hear me? What would you do without me, after all?"
"Um…." Baker said, looking around. "Get another cup?"
"That's not funny Scott Baker! You don't treat Nutty right and your dingleberries will never be protected again, you hear me? I'm not going back. I'm not."
"Back where?"
"To the minors, Scott Baker! Do you have any idea what it's like down there?"
"Well, yeah I have a pretty good—"
"You don't know! You don't! Those buses? They're not air conditioned, Scott Baker. Do you know what that means? I can’t take it, I really can't—"
"I know, but—"
"And the other athletic cups, they're all old and bitter. And Lohse's down there, have you ever met his cup? That guy's a dick!"
"I—"
"It's where dreams go to die, Scott Baker. I had dreams once, you know! So I want you to go to the park today and I want you to pitch as bueno as you possibly can, because—because—" He could not continue. A whimper emanated from him mouth and just like that Nutty began to sob.
Baker shifted slightly in his bed. "Oh, Nutty…"
"Don't Scott Baker!" howled Nutty. "Just don't! All I do is think about you and now I need you to protect me, okay? I want you to be my protective cup!"
And with that, he hurled himself into Baker's arms, bawling like no athletic cup has ever bawled before. And despite it all, Baker's heart softened and he held Nutty close. "There, there," he whispered, patting him on the back. "There, there. Don't worry, Nutty. It will all be okay."