Tonight's Poet Corner: Sonnet Solstice #194
The Ump Received by Belinda Roddie The ump received a wild pitch to the face and fell into a crumpled, messy heap, though the batter at first stole second base and most of the crowd had fallen asleep. The pitcher lowered his arm and looked down upon the ump, who bled from his right eye and mumbled gibberish like a drunk clown. "Should we call 911?" the catcher cried. The pitcher yanked at his mitt, bit his lip, and suddenly broke into a fast sprint off of the mound and just managed to slip into the dug-out without a mere glint of the team manager's eye. So the ump simply lay there. Strike three to the old lump.