A Routine Expedition...

It seemed like a routine expedition for the Red Sox to Oakland this week. Hit the rapids a bit. Some spelunking, perhaps. Catcher/Chef Doug Mirabelli had a nice picnic spread planned for Thursday afternoon. They'd pick up a few W's to increase that MLB-best winning percentage. A good time was to be had by all.

At least until that pesky time vortex laid those plans to waste. Now the Sox are running for their lives. Hiding in temples, caves, and cavernous stadiums. Evading Dinosaurs and DiNardos. Fending off attacking Sleestacks and Casillas. It's a dangerous world, fraught with crystal matrix tables and GIDPs. Manager Terry Francona has been both ingenious and ferocious, otherwise the Red Sox may not even have survived to this point. Obviously, it's been a very draining trip for the Red Sox. There's no rest to be had when large green lizards could have their crossbows trained on you at any time. (Hmm. Tavarez's crossbow is very similar in design to that of the Sleestacks. Interesting, that.)

The Sox will send Curt Schilling to the pylon this afternoon. Surely, he will save them. Just like Uncle Jack saved the Marshall Family. (Uncle Jack DID save them, didn't he?)
Either way, I'm just glad the Sox don't play in the middle of the night this time. Because the Sleestack nightmares are back. Their hissing pierces my very soul...