TWV: Little League

"Dang it! Half the team has chicken pox, I swear!" Rob nodded sympathetically, but he was annoyed. When Ryan had texted him to come to the park immediately because of an emergency, he had assumed it was something more pressing than Ryan's Little League team being sick.


"Whatcha gonna do?" He asked. Ryan shrugged.


"Really, I just need one more player to field a full team." He said. "Shame you can't play." Rob laughed, smacking Ryan's shoulder.


"Dude, they might notice a Varsity player. You'd be more likely to pass, shorty." Rolling his eyes, Ryan dug in his duffel bag.


"Sounds like you're willing." He pulled a pair of white briefs out and held them up in both hands so that Rob could get a good look at them. His lip curled.


"Whoa, man. Why do you have some little kid's underwear in your coach bag?"


"Shut it." Ryan said. "It's not like that. Go into that Portapotty there and put these on."


"What? What the fuck, man?"


"You owe me. Remember when I helped you sneak out to go to Stacy's party?" Rob nodded, fond memories of making out with her in her room washing over him. "You totally owe me, dude. I can see you popping a boner." He thrust the white briefs at Rob. "Put these on. You've just made the team."


Rob tried to get out of it, but what choice did he have as Ryan shoved him toward the green Portapotty. This had to be some sort of weird prank, right? Rob did not really get the joke and he figured the only way to find out what it was was to play along, so he disappeared into the Portapotty, juvenile underwear balled up in his hand.


"Remember. Stacy." Ryan said from outside. Rob groaned and tugged down his shorts and boxers. He stumbled a bit as he tried to squeeze into the briefs. As he yanked on them, it seemed to get easier and easier to pull them up his legs. He growled in frustration as his t-shirt kept getting in the way, so he took it off too, wearing nothing but the briefs once he had them pulled up to his waist. He stared down at his discarded clothes, trying to figure out why they looked so strange. They looked like they were meant for a giant. The whole Portapotty seemed bigger than it had before. He looked down at his feet, curling his toes. What was going on?


The Portapotty's door flew open and Rob yelped.


"Oh, man!" Ryan said in surprise. "It worked!" He held up his phone with the camera on so Rob could see himself.


"What the? What... what happened? My voice! My body! My" he watched the boy on the phone. He looked every bit like Rob at nine or ten years old, slight bit of stubborn baby fat and all. His voice was high-pitched and noticeably prepubescent. "What do you do?"


"I told you I need you to fill in." Ryan laughed and gave him a playful noogie. "Man, from six foot to what? Four feet?" He laughed again. "Here, put on your uniform, slugger."


"Ryan? What did you do?"


"Get dressed or you're running the bases in your tighty whities." Ryan said.


Rob growled as he sat in the dugout, dressed like the rest of the Little Leaguers. He could not decide which was worse: losing eight years of maturity all at once or the fact that Ryan had introduced him to the team as Bobby. He sat there sullenly listening to the boys around him chatter away about the sort of things little kids talked about. It was only nine innings and then Ryan would change him back. He sighed and kicked the dirt with his sneaker.


"Grab your mitt, Bobby. You're on third base." Ryan said. "Third grader on third base." He whispered to him as Rob walked past.


"Shut it."


As the game progressed, Rob found himself starting to enjoy himself. Sure, it was nowhere near the level of high school baseball, but baseball was baseball and he got a decent hit in the sixth inning. In no time at all, the teams had lined up to congratulate each other. Rob kept Ryan in his sights, determined to go back to normal. He made a beeline over to him while the other players were going to find their parents.


"Hey! Nice job today, champ!" Ryan held up his hand for Rob to high five.


"Very funny. Can I go back to normal now?"


"Normal? Whatcha talking about, Bobby?"


"Yeah, a real laugh riot. You know what I'm talking about, Ryan."


"That's Coach Ryan, unless you want to run the bases." Ryan said. "Shouldn't you be finding your parents, Bobby? Don't want them to leave you"


"Cut the crap, dude. You know I'm not really a Little Leaguer. I'm your best friend, we're on the team together at MacArthur High and"


"Listen, bud, I got a lot of clean-up to do and I'm not really sure what game you're playing." Rob frowned. This was starting to get scary. Ryan never let a joke go this long.


"Bobby! Bobby sweetie!" Rob spun around in shock as he heard the unmistakable sound of his mom.


"Mom!" He exclaimed. "It's me, Rob!"


"I know, Bobby." She laughed. "You've been my son for nine years. I know my own son." She felt his forehead. "Hmm, you're not warm. With those chicken pox going around, I just want to be careful."


"Awesome hit today, slugger!" His dad said excitedly. Rob looked at his parents, unable to even make sense of what was happening. He stammered and tried to search for some kind of proof that he had been a high school senior just a couple hours ago.


"Oh, he's overexcited." His mom said. "How many Pixie Sticks did you have, Bobby?" Dad chuckled.


"He can run laps around the house at home to burn that energy off." He picked the confused and scared former teenager up. "Whew! You reek, Bobby buddy." He squirmed, but his dad held him tight as his mom gave him a sniff.


"Well, he did work up a sweat hustling out there." She said. "Guess it's bath night." Rob tried to get free as his dad carried him away from Ryan. How was he supposed to go back to normal now? And why did his parents actually think he was nine?


"Alright, fine. You can walk." Dad said with a laugh. "Last one to the car's a rotten egg!" Bobby watched in bewilderment as his dad took off running toward the car. How was he going to fix this?