Pawtuckett "The Crayfish" Rathbone

It seems as though, one of my greatest arch-enemies, Pawtuckett "The Crayfish" Rathbone must have escaped the ill effects of Katrina in his New Orleans stronghold, for as of late, I've feel his powerful mojo woking against me in all I do.

Now, for those of you who don't know the story of how we got to be "arch enemies" it's something like this.

In 1948 an uninspiring Double-A ballplayer with the name Joe Smith came up to bat for the Cleveland Buckskins, against their rivals, the Columbus Roosters. In front of about three hundred fans, Smith took a fastball outside, swung at a looping curve for a strike, and then made a powerful swing at a slider, and cracked it super hard.

It would have been a homer, according to eye-witnesses, only somewhere between the first and second bases, at an elevation of near one hundred and thirty feet the ball hit, what star-trek geeks would refer to as a "trans-dimentional vortex" and simply dissappeared into thin air. To conclude Smith's part in this story, the umpires were completely flummoxed as to what the "call" should be, so they ruled what is commonly referred to on the playground as a "do-over." Where Smith promptly struck out.

Anyways, as fate would have it, I was driving my 1982 Honda Accord sedan down the highway on a road trip, somewhere south of St. Louis, and north of Oklahoma, when Smith's ball...some 1000 miles, and 45 years in the future, reappeared, and descended at raipd velocity into my windshield! It blew through it like a bullet, shattering glass over my friend and passenger, as well as your very shocked D. Tsunami. I swerved out of my lane, and sideswiped an oncoming Caddy, and somehow came to a stop in a rodaside ditch.

There, I gathered my thoughts, and found myself unhurt, so I opened the door. Whereupon I found myself confronted by a large man in a black suit, holding the ripped off rear-view mirror of his Caddy. Before I could explain myself he began shouting in various accusing mannors my driving ability, my heritage, and my crappy car. That's when I got tough.

"Somebody put a baseball through my windshield." I said, "There wasn't much else I could do!" He threw the mirror down at my feet, and shouted, "You've just made a powerful enemy! Nobody sideswipes Pawtuckett "The Crayfish Rathbone! Nobody!"

And that bastard's never forgotten a moment to try and do me harm...