2061.14 Asleep at the Switch

[Trebro]

Owner Bo Jordan scanned the daily transactions listings again, trying to remain calm. His office had already seen some damage, including ruining one of his priceless heirlooms from his playing days. There would be no piecing together the miniature glass bat he'd received from his alma matter for hitting his 300th home run.

Today had been no better than the day before, or the day before that, or really any day since the off-season started. Despite directions to Assistant General Manager Eric Russell to look for potential gems in the free agent market while avoiding long-term deals in order to keep the erratic, cheese-grater tied to a broken xylophone voiced employee from doing something stupid, he hadn't seen a single free agent signing of any consequence. It was all minor league deals for players who almost certainly wouldn't make it to Yellow Springs.

Resisting the urge to break yet another tablet (miscellaneous expenses were going to be high this year, it seemed), Jordan marched down to the General Manager's office. The door was actually open this time. He strolled in, to find that Russell had put together all of missing GM Rob McMonigal's easy chairs together into a makeshift bed. The AGM was snoring – loudly – with a noise that practically defied description. Sawing logs didn't begin to cut it, unless the saw in question was rusted, dull, and tuned by Schoenberg.

Jordan loomed over him, and shouted "WAKE UP!"

Nothing.

He tried again, louder this time, but his voice was no match for the snores. Frustrated, he ripped the chair fort apart, taking one in each of his still-mighty hands. Russell slammed to the ground, all arms and legs. He stared up at Jordan, panicked.

"What did you do that for?" asked Russell. "I was in the middle of this amazing dream where I was being given GM of the Year by Mikki Manning, who had forgotten she needed to dress for the occasion but I told her that was okay. Strangely, all the cameras were on her, but not me. You ruined it, she was just leaning over to give me my award!"

Jordan sighed. "I'm not even going to acknowledge that. Now get the hell up! Why haven't we signed any free agents yet?"

"We have," said Russell. "They're even writing about it in the paper."

"Yes, to make fun of our lack of real signings. Those are minor league filler. Where are the players who will be playing out there?" – here Jordan pointed towards Utopia Field.

"Don't we already have enough people to do that?" asked Russell.

"To do what?"

"Field a team. I thought it was obvious we had more than enough players, so I've been spending all my time on this new game. It's really addictive, I tell you. A total "Just One More Turn" type of game. It's called "Prevent the Rainout" – you spend your time as a staff member of the Mexico City Aztecs trying to use all the tools at your disposal to ensure there's no rainout. Every season is an adventure! Can you make the ultimate sacrifice?"

"That sacrifice is going to be your job if you don't get to work!" Jordan wondered if there was actual steam coming out of his ears at this point, not that Russell would notice.

"Alright, alright. I think you'd lighten up a bit if you just downloaded something other than the daily transaction wire."

"I know exactly which wire I want right now," mumbled Jordan, thinking about a nice garrote.

"Just so you know, there's not a lot out there, boss," said Russell, the entire sentence taking twice as long as it should, with each syllable a war crime.

"See what you can find," said Jordan, turning away before he got himself in further trouble with human resources. "We've got quite a few places where we need an upgrade."

Like Assistant General Manager.

[Jwalk100]

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[trmmilwwi]

The world needs more chair forts for sure. Great writeup!