Ryan rested on the edge of Horst's dresser next to another jockstrap.
He found himself hoping, perhaps insanely, that Horst would choose him and not the other jockstrap when it came time to wear one of them.
When Horst picked him up out of the drawer, Ryan had hoped he might issue some sort of plea for consideration, but his former friend wore gloves over his hands. "Damn, why did he do that?" Ryan wondered.
Horst's phone rang and, unable to do much else, Ryan rested on the flat surface and eavesdropped on the call.
"Oh, hey, Coach," Horst said, momentarily staying his effort at using the laundry pen on his former friend.
As Horst listened, he began to smile. The smile widened the more he listened. "Yes, I agree 100 percent, Coach. As long as Standish remains missing, someone has to take his place. I'll do my best!"
Ryan listened in outrage. "Coach is replacing me with Horst! Has he lost it? Horst can hold a candle to me!"
Once the call ended, Horst chuckled to himself and looked down at the jockstrap Ryan. "Guess my luck's changed for the better," he said. "I wonder if that's related to your bad luck in becoming a jockstrap, Ryan?"
Ryan listened to Horst's taunting. He seethed inside. Damn, Horst! Damn him!