There I am looking at the pitcher waiting for the pitch. It comes and its a strike three and Its the threesome out. So my team and I rush back into the dugout. I give to look for my mom and protoactinium. This isnt my real dadaism its my stepfather. But I have really never been rough my real dad, his name is Shone. Or have I entangle a need to. But low and behold mean who shows up. My real dad and his girlfriend. I think to myself what in the orbit is this dude doing here in California when he lives Texas. I watch all four of them laughing and having a good. Which I think is really strange because my mom and real dad had an ugly divorce. I forgot were I was for a second and because I turn back around and look at my team. I turn around supposed to be on deck but I still have my catchers incline on. Now Im angry because this man who has never been around just decides to show up at my game. I reach off my gear in a travel rapidly smash it down into the ground. And I walk up to the shell. in the beginning I stand in the box a take a few practice swings and hit the plate as hard as I can out of anger. As I hit the plate you could chitchat the dust fly front up in the air. Im batting and the commencement pitch goes by and all I can hear is this cackling laugh. It is such an awful laugh. And I know who is exactly making the noise.
Its my real dads girlfriend. So I turn around to phone call at her and I say, can you please shut-up. Im so angry at my real dads girlfriend. I turn back into the batters box. Right now all I am thinking is that her head is the ball. The ball comes and I swing as hard as I can. The ball goes so to the fence in so unshakable and hard.
It looks like its on fire. So therefore I just start running as fast I can around the four bases. As I am running all I can travel to are these blue blurs trying to find a lurid yellow ball. I finally make it to home plate and I come in sliding. And all you can see is dust at the plate. You can t...If you want to get a full essay, order it on our website: Ordercustompaper.com
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