I am really not paying attention to much. I barely notice how much the sun is swelling the cheeks of the kid next to me. We have men on second and third and the pitcher is about to walk the next guy so the game is really what I am into. There is a man crying popcorn, peanuts, ice cold beer. I see someone reach their hand out with a wad of bills in it and suddenly his fingers get bitten off. Next his entire hand is missing and the people around me are beginning to scream. There is an enormous filthy horse that is clomping around down in the first row behind the dug outs. It has now begun to tear at people at random so everyone is screaming and rushing the exits. The exit I am nearest is suddenly blocked by another one of these enormous dirty horses so I suddenly jump back to put some space between us.

The funny thing is that the ball players haven’t even noticed the commotion and it seems to be limited to these few sections near right field. I don’t want to miss it because I might’ve been wrong and my guy could hit a home run here. Bases loaded and all man, but I am just so damn distracted by this giant freackin’ horse about ten feet from me. When I take a second glance at him, I suddenly realize why.

His eyes are bloodshot. There is some glittery ass black tar running out of them as well. His teeth are sharpened to ragged points and a combination of puss and blood drips from the beasts tongue. His nostrils are black and gooey inside and his horn looks like its peeling away in layers like plastic.

His horn?

The potential of loaded bases and broken records are suddenly so inconsequential and now I hate myself for being a baseball fan at all right now. About twenty bloody and hellish freakin’ unicorns have taken over the stands. Fans are pulling their children onto the field and up the stadium seats in an effort to put distance between themselves and the beasts. From time to time they seem to come into dangerous proximity to the creatures and have their limbs torn off as they are literally chased and stomped into the stands.

I begin to rub my eyes and total and utter disbelief as another war horse sized unicorn takes a spot right on home base and swings his huge head around to eat the freakin’ catcher and in the process he actually makes contact with the final pitch of Hosmer’s life and hits the very best home run the world will ever see.

I am so damn disappointed that the first unicorns to play baseball had to be infected with the freackin’ plague or some shit that I start moving towards first base myself. I need to arm myself, I need a bat. But want I want more than anything, is to see these bastards play more ball, I mean, even if it is totally unintentional.

So I am headed down to the dug out, and I am thinking, “I want a glove, and I want a ball…” and then I am thinking, “Fuck that shit, I want the Franklin Field Master!” So I run up and I get that thing ready and out in like three seconds and I start loading the baseballs and I aim and start firing balls at top speed towards these freackin’ unicorns and what do you know it? They are fucking hitting balls left and right and I am totally stoked although they are still kinda annihilating the crowd and they might actually be spreading their crazy zombie plague to the fans and I am getting a little more than anxious… but fuck man. I am playing baseball with unicorns!
When am I ever gonna see this again? I decide to take my phone out to get a good picture of the scene…

Well, we all know what happens next, I am sadly impaled by one flakey plastery zombie unicorn horn but I can’t say I haven’t lived it up… I have been to U2, to freakin’ Stonehenge and now, now I have seen a unicorn hit the best pitch ever at 106 mph, and unbelievably, making it the best home run ever, 820 feet my man. 820 feet.

Freackin’ unicorn zombies play the best baseball in recorded history. If you told me that yesterday, I woulda poured grape soda in your lap.