"Let's git outa here!" pipes Hector hoarsely. "Think of me with fifty thousand berries and more on the fire!"
Well, we all met at the flat the next afternoon to celebrate. The wife suggested a theatre party with all that goes with it, and I was lookin' over the papers to pick out a good show. Alex is walkin' up and down the room, rubbin' them hands of his together.
"Well, well, well!" he says, slappin' Hector on the back. "To think that the days of slavery is all over! No more reportin' at the ball park every day, no more spring training no more watchin' 'em hit and run. That must be great after seven years of havin' to see it and—"
"Yeh!" mumbles Hector, kinda glum. He's all dressed up like a broken arm and takin' it just as hard.
"Well," I says, "where will we go? We got all the shows in New York to pick from and—"
"Get one that will give Mister Sells a chance to really relax and enjoy himself," says the wife. "Somethin' that will allow him to forget his former—"
"Why not ask Hector?" says Alex. "Where would you like to go, Mister Sells?"
Hector gets up and fumbles with his hat.
"Say!" he says. "Let's all go out and see the ball game, heh?"