Hello, this is 300 tennis balls

Chapter Eight

300 Tennis Balls didn’t come home yesterday. He had gotten drunk in the past and not come
home. Once he said drank a Sprite and
began hallucinating. I guess different
things make him react differently than they normally would in an average person. Then again, on that particular morning-after
I found him passed out next to a few cans of Sprite and an empty bottle of
Robitussin.

Returning to yesterday, earlier in the day we went to the
convenience store together, but he wasn’t allowed in because he didn’t have on
a shirt or shoes. The little Armenian
worker pointed at him when he tried to walk in and said, “No Service. Get out.”

“Oh, come on,” I said. 300 Tennis Balls said it was okay and that he would wait outside. He said to get him one of those little
microwave burritos. I said I would call
our local representative when we got home. “I will call him up and ask them how someone can wear a shirt if they
don’t have arms. I will tell him that my
friend is a celebrated war hero, but isn’t allowed in the corner store because
he doesn’t have on a shirt. I will ask
him how that is right. I will finish the
conversation by asking if he would turn away Jesus when he walked in after
being crucified. I will not be polite on
the phone. I will scream and shout and
maybe even throw the phone against the wall when I am done for added
effect. I will go pick the phone up and
put it together afterwards.” This will
be a hassle. I have to make sure I throw
the phone lightly. I do not want to
break it so much that I can’t use it again. I just want to break it enough so it falls apart and is able to be put
back together.

Alone, in the convenience store I got the burrito and an ice
cream sandwich for myself. It cost
$3.27. I paid in all pennies and nickels.

When I went outside 300 Tennis Balls was gone. I called his name and held up his microwave
burrito, but he didn’t answer. Only a
bum approached.

“I have a note from your friend,” he said, “But you have to
give me some change.”

I still had a pocketful of pennies and nickels. I pulled some out and picked out all the
silver coinage. I handed over the pile
of brown. He gave me the note.

“Oh,” he added, “Can I have that burrito if your friend isn’t
coming back?”

I gave it to him.

The note said that 300 Tennis Balls had gotten aids and
died. I flipped the note over.

“Just kidding,” it said, “I’ll see you tonight.”

Chapter seven

A tennis ball rolled into my room.

“I miss the days when it was just me and you,” it said, “The
days when it was just me and you running around; the days when you’d bring me
into the grocery store and we’d laugh and you’d just bounce me up and
down. I miss yesterday. I miss the days when things were better and
you weren’t so concern with making friends with every tennis ball you saw.”
“Yesterday is just a day before today,” I said.

“Wasn’t it special to you at all?”

“I’ve lived through thousands of yesterdays.”

A tennis ball rolled out of my room.

Chapter six

There was a yard sale. I bought a microscope for twenty-five cents. I was hoping to see quite a few protozoan
bodies and some amoebaean creatures. I wanted
to dip my new scientific instrument into ponds and streams and just lurk there
for hours seeing what kind of life little people have. I thought of the possibilities. Even if it was just a bunch of microscopic
germs mowing their lawn it would be cool. Unfortunately, the excitement was premature and disappointment was all I
found. To be honest though, it wasn’t
anything I didn’t expect. When I looked
at my first specimen and only saw tennis balls it wasn’t a surprise at all.

Chapter 5

Fuck, there are no tennis balls. I would say I’m sad because this probably
means it is the end of the story. I
thought there would always be 300 tennis balls. I do not know why they ran away. It rained. A little girl played
in the park. I don’t think she scared
off the tennis balls. I called my dad
and asked him if they were in the back seat of the car. He said, “Why don’t you ever call me? Your mother and I are very worried about
you. We love you, but you never call
us. We don’t know what is going on in
your life. It makes me wish I had more
children. If I had more children more
people would love me. With only you I
feel no love in my life. Your mother
still loves me, but she’s been doing it for so long that I don’t even notice it
anymore. Sometimes when I’m leaving the
house I accidently shut her love in the door and it yelps. Half the time I don’t even have time to apologize
and give it kisses. This is partly the
reason why I think your mother and I are in marriage counseling. I think another reason we are in counseling
is because our only child doesn’t love us anymore and never calls.”

I had no answer for him. I pretended my phone battery was dying and hung up.

Chapter 4

Everyone in the whole world is a tennis ball. That is why Batman isn’t real. Batman would never let himself be a tennis
ball. He would tell Alfred (the tennis
ball butler) to get the batmobile and then he would drive over anyone who
tried to tell him he was a tennis ball. The Batman in the movies isn’t like the Batman who would exist in real
life. If Batman really existed he wouldn’t
be so morally sound. His personal ethics
would be twisted and when prostitutes jumped on him and made him fuck them without
paying he would not resist as much as he could because he would be tired of
being both the strongest and richest person ever. He would be like everyone else (except
without being a tennis ball) and just want to be rich. Also, another reason he would do prostitutes
is because he wouldn’t be married. I do not know why he would never marry. Maybe his sexual preferences are messed up or maybe he just would appreciate the promiscuous
lifestyle. Anyway, when he finished with
the tennis ball prostitutes he would realize what he had done and be forced to
chop off their heads.

Batman would have a weird sense of humor in real life. He would laugh when the prostitute’s heads
fall on the ground and bounce. He would
laugh and say, “Everyone really is a tennis ball.”

Chapter 3

The whole world is a tennis ball or at least 300 percent of
the world is a tennis ball. I could be
wrong about this. I have not been my
usual self lately. Yesterday, I ate six
tennis balls. Someone suggested I go on
a diet. They said some people have found
success with eating grapefruits. I
thought, “What is a grapefruit, but not an oversized tennis ball.” They also said that sometimes a diet is all
you need to feel good about yourself again and to enjoy life. I did not realize I wasn’t enjoying
life. I really thought I was. One day I hope to wake up and think, “I do
not need anything but myself to enjoy life.”

I told my friend that I was thinking about going on a tennis
ball diet. I did not tell him about
eating six tennis balls. I do not even
know if I really ate six tennis balls. I
might have only thought about it for a long time until I was convinced I ate
them. I looked at all the dirty knives
in the sink and none of them had yellow fuzz stuck in the serrated blade. I have been watching my stools the last day
or so to make sure nothing yellow and rubbery shows up. If it does I imagine I will have to go to the
hospital. Anyway, my friend said diets
were kind of weird. I told him he was
probably right. We were both silent
after that. Finally he spoke up, “If I
were to go on a diet,” he said, “I would only eat thanksgiving sandwiches
because they are my favorite sandwich. I
like thanksgiving a lot.”

I have never heard of a thanksgiving sandwich, but I imagine
it has turkey, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, and stuffing in it. I wonder if there are such things as Halloween
sandwiches or Easter sandwiches full of peeps and Cadbury eggs.

Chapter two

I had all those tennis balls in my car for a week. I think they multiplied. Originally they had been in a plastic
bag. When I went to put them back in the
bag they didn’t fit. I wasn’t sure what
to do with all these tennis balls. I
thought that maybe I could leave them out behind the old k-mart with the moldy
wigs and the abandoned zoo animals. I do
not know if such things exist behind the old k-mart. I have never been behind the old k-mart. For those who do not know, k-mart is a kind
of store that was popular in the eighties. Even though they were very big they did not sell very many kinds of meat
or cheese. I’m not sure they sold any
kinds of meats or cheese. K-mart probably
sold tennis balls. Places like that are
known to keep their tennis balls in plastic containers, but these containers
usually only hold three tennis balls at a time. This is very sad because three is not a good number amongst
friends. Usually two of them gang up on
the third one. It would be like if you
had three legs, but only needed two to run. Soon, the third leg would become atrophied and shrivel up and die or
fall off.

So, k-mart seemed as good a place as any to leave my tennis
balls. The problem was when I went to
k-mart it didn’t exist anymore. It had
left. All that was left was an empty,
abandoned building. I decided not to
leave my tennis balls there.

chapter one

Does everyone remember when I had 300 tennis balls in my
car? It was so long ago. I can’t even remember all their names. I should have made a list and taped it to
steering wheel, but that wouldn’t have mattered either. I don’t drive that car anymore.

What happened to that car?

I believe my father took it and uses it to carry buckets of
sand home from the pit. Once my father
put fifteen buckets of sand in the car. He called me up to tell me. I
wasn’t impressed.

“Father, don’t you know that I once put 300 tennis balls in
the back of that car?”

“No,” he said, “I did not know this.”

“I thought I told you.”
“You don’t tell me anything.”

“I’m sorry father.”

“It is okay.”
“We should have a father-son get-together.”

“That would be nice.”

“Maybe we could play golf.”
“I sold your clubs.”