After the game, Erick was exhausted. He was hot, smelly and sweaty, and he loved the fact that at the bottom of it all, his brother and the allstar quarterback were absorbing the worst of it, and enjoying every drop of sweat and second of bone crushing weight grinding their faces into his insoles. He was getting great mental feedback from his athletic socks. The two athletes helped him execute plays that helped him be the game's star player. Needless to say his team won.
Erick reeked of stinky sweat, but there was no way he was going to leave his lucky socks unattended in the locker room while he showered. He'd just have to wait until he got home. He grabbed his clothes and kit, and bundled everything up.
"Hey, Erick, aren't you going to shower tonight?" Coach asked.
"Yeah, when I get home. Gotta make curfew, you know, and I rode my bike, so I'm going to get stinkier before I get home anyway," Erick replied, omitting that curfew wasn't for two more hours.
"Okay, well becareful out there. You played great tonight, son!"
Erick raced home, and dashed up to his room. His sister was in the hall bathroom, so he decided to use Carter's, afterall in his current state Carter only needed a sink to wash up in, or washer. Boldly stripping naked in Carter's room, Erick tossed his balled up socks on the floor. One rolled under the bed. He stepped into the shower and started to scrub while singing to the tunes from Carter's Showertime Radio.
"Honey, have you seen my tennis balls. I've got a match tonight with the boss. I swear that man never sleeps. Who reserves a tennis court at 10 in evening. Damn, the dog got this one. There's got to be a decent one somewhere."
"Try Carter's room, he's always hitting balls with Ryan. Dear, please be graceful win or lose, George Standish isn't only your boss, he's your son's best friend's father."
"I'll remember, Hon. He's the guy who may write the scholarship check, so Carter can attend school with Ryan. 'Bout the only way, I can afford to get him into college. Don't worry, I'll lose gracefully, and if I'm angry I'll take it out on the ball."
"I thought you said the dog chewed up your tennis balls. Sounds like you killed them yourself! Haha!"
"Carter? Guess, he's in the shower. Now if I was a tennis ball, where would I be? Under the bed!" Carter's dad reaches blindly under the bed, the balled up sock becomes furry rubber just as he grasps it.
"Bingo!" he bounces the ball, "Now that's a good one!" He doesn't notice under the fuzzy covering the impression of his son Carter's face screaming.
"Now, if I can only find one more?" He shoves his Carterball into his tennis shorts pocket, and feels around on the floor.
Ryan starts to feel hollow inside. "Bingo, another tennis ball. Well, I'm off honey. Bye!"