Last night began like a fairy tale. Chase Utley made a triumphant return to the Phillies’ lineup, energizing his team in the first inning as he did exactly what a sold out crowd came to see him do when he crushed a James McDonald curveball into the right field seats. Later, he stroked his third hit of the night in the midst of a seventh inning rally that looked like it might lift his team to an improbable comeback win. It was like a Cinderella story. If, you know, instead of riding in a pumpkin and meeting the prince, Cinderella lay lifeless, raped to death in the trunk of Kia Sorento driven by Hunter Pence on his way to Liscio’s Bakery. Speaking of that, Liscio’s really fucked up with that Pence endorsement deal. They might as well have hired Magic Johnson to cut his dick and squirt his HIV-positive blood all over their fucking rolls. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather use my epileptic dog’s shit as bread for my next sandwich.
But look, I know the Phillies lost a tough one to Pittsburgh last night in Utley’s return, so I have a joke that will make all of you out there feel better. Ready? Okay, check it.
Chad Qualls and Hunter Pence walk into a bar. And they’re both shot dead…I forget the rest of the joke, but how fucking awesome would that be?
I’ve gotta tell you, I’m not completely shocked that a horrible Phillies’ bullpen that was called upon to pitch nine innings was completely torched by the Pirates. Even still, it appeared the Phillies might pull this one out. But then Hunter Pence happened. He was all like, “Yo. Instead of doing anything remotely positive, let me just jam this battery-operated twirling dildo into my cunt and ruin everything despite seeing six pitches out of the strike zone.” I’ve never seen a team take a steaming pile of shit on momentum like the Phillies do, but the early returns on Utley were amazingly positive. I’m telling you, this team can still make a run towards the postseason. But it has to start today as the Phils look to finish their 10-game homestand on the plus side of the .500 mark. Kyle Kendrick, we turn our lonely eyes to you. You’re due, douche.