While in strict cloistered repose, pondering the implications of a cosmos permeated by Dark Energy accelerating the expansion the universe, I was disturbed by a loud banging upon the teak wood, iron-wrought door to my study. Setting down my snifter of 1972 Charles de Granville's XO Calvados, I rushed to see who had managed to make his way past my Cossack man-servant, Gruzinov. Hesitatingly, I cracked open the ancient door to the darkness without.
In burst a large man. He wore a pea coat like that of a Mariner, and he had the strong smell of Haddock. Brushing right past me, the man went straight to the wet bar and poured himself a large drought from my Decanted Châteauneuf-du-Pape. He drank the vino down in one long, coughing, drought where it seemed as much of the vintage was caught in his beard as his throat. Slowly he pivoted and for the first time fixed me with his firm gaze.
"I've come fer me debt", he gurgled almost as if he was underwater. Never having seen the man before, I suspected mistaken identity. I screwed up my courage to speak.
"Look here", I squeaked. "I've never seen you before, much less owe you a debt. Now explain your bussiness or be off. If you don't I shall call my security."
"You mean that stinking Ural mountain trash I met coming in? I disposed of him already." He poured himself another glass of my precious Rhone valley wine and squared me again with that almost lawyerly stare.
"I may be a stranger to you", he said. "But I sure as blazes know who you are. And your Father, and his Father before him. My family has kept a close eye on yours for generations. Your name is Bad Sunglasses. Mine is Zaaq. Your Grandfather made a wager with with my Grandfather nigh on eighty years ago. And now it's time to settle".
"Why this is preposterous", I stammered. A great storm had now crept over the land. Flashes of lightening and loud claps of thunder now added to my unease.
The man called Zaaq positioned himself over the Victorian leather high-backed, and seemed to almost collapse within it's confines. He reached under his tattered coat and pulled out a document and handed it to me. I could just make out the faded red scrawled writing by the expiring cherry embers within my marble fireplace.
"It's all there for you to read", he said. "It's a right and properly done contract; as you can see. Your Grandfather bet mine that the Giant Starfish didn't exist, and was nothing but a phantom fossil footprint of a large bottom dwelling Manticore. With the recent discovery of two mating Giant Starfish in the Antarctic waters off New Zealand, my Grandfather has won the wager! And I, as his only living relative, have come to collect."
"Wait, wait," I exclaimed. "Here in the document, at the bottom, in fine print, written backwards, in coded sanacrit, upside down, scribed in stealthy ink only visable by firelight; it clearly states a caveat!"
Zaaq grabbed the document out of my hand, and read the newly discovered condition aloud. "Upon definitive proof that the wager is won, the losing party has a one time opportunity to trump the original bet by predicting the outcome of the forthcoming Major League Baseball season more accurately than the winning party of the original bet, after which all bets will be considered completed forever, and all debts will be collected on pain of death"!
The disheveled Mariner tore about the room enraged screaming curses at this new hindrance to his fortune. Finally he calmed down enough to sit back down. Upon being seated again, Zaaq pulled out a large, whole, smoked fish from the seemingly cavernous confines of his pea coat; the source of the aforementioned dock-stench. He proceeded to make a meal of the Haddock starting with a large bite out of its scaly stomach.
"Well, now that's settled", I said. " But there's one thing I'm still unsure of: what's the prize?"
Wiping his face with his sleeve, Zaaq said: "For me and mine, a bottle of your finest whiskey. Your family has long been known as hoarders of the best vintages. And for you and yours...a bag of radishes."
"That hardly seems fair", I protested.
"Yes well, the year they made the bet was a particularly bad year for the radish, blight and all. And your Grandfather had special uses for those vegetable." Zaaq visible shuddered.
"And what uses would that be", I queried; dreading the answer.
"Well", Zaaq said, " a man's secrets are his own, but word was, rumor was, that your Grandfather used radishes during sexual rituals in the catacombs beneath this very house"!
The heat of the fire beside me and warmth of the liquor within me seemed to swell, and I swooned upon the floor. "No! It can't be! Lies! Rumors and lies!" I moaned as the room went dark and I knew no more.
************************************************************************************
I awoke hours later upon my chaisse with a wet cloth upon my head, and Gruzinov, my cossack man-servant, his head bandaged, waiting upon me. It turns out Gruzinov remembered nothing of the night before, except checking the grounds for a strange noise. He awoke later in the gardens with a nasty bump on his head. He proceeded inside to find me alone, in my study, laying unconscious upon the mahogany floor.
After some care, feeling refreshed, I sent Gruzinov to collect our breakfast. I scanned about the room looking for any clue that the events of the night before had not all been a dream. My eyes fell upon an envelope, addressed to a PO box in Brooklyn.
In the envelope was a letter consisting, of one sentence, a signature, and a postscript. The sentence read: "I expect your 2008 MLB season predictions forthwith. The signature was: Zaaq. The postscript appeared written with more haste, as almost an afterthought: " Starfish and radishes? What the hell's wrong with your family!"
fin.
To the predictions:
American League:
East
1. Red Sox
2. Yankees
3. Jays
4. Rays
5. Orioles
Central
1. Detroit
2. Cleavland
3. White Sox
4. Twins
5. Royals
West
1. Mariners
2.Angels
3. A's
4. Rangers
National League:
East
1. Braves
2. Phillies
3. Mets
4. Nationals
5. Marlins
Central
1. Cubs
2. Brewers
3. Reds
4. Cardinals
5. Astros
6. Pirates
West
1. Dodgers
2. Diamondbacks
3. Rockies
4. Padres
5. Giants
MVP's
AL: D. Ortiz, Boston-DH
NL: M. Teixeira, ATL-1B
Cy Young
AL: Eric Bedard- Seattle
NL: Brad Penny- LA
Divisional Series:
AL: Yanks over Mariners in 5 games
Detroit over Red Sox in 4 games
NL: Dodgers over Phillies in 4 games
Cubs over Braves in 3 games
Championship Series:
AL: Detroit over Yanks in 6 games
NL: Cubs over Dodgers in 7 games
World Series:
Detroit over Cubs in 5 games
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