The TALONS Files: the chronicles of telepathic agent Ryan Dart

Bernie Saves the Day...Along With the Help of a Bratwurst

It was now Eight-thirty PM, and Ryan couldn't believe what he was doing. He also couldn't believe where he was.

He was Bernie Brewer, the cartoon looking mascot of the Milwaukee Brewers. Complete with a Brewers uniform and a blonde mustache that was thickly groomed like those from the 1800's, the mascot looked like an absolute riot. Actually Bernie's head weighed a ton, and Ryan could smell the onions that were on his burger from the Safe House.

And now, he sat high atop a skeletal wood structure known as Bernie's Chalet, waiting for a member of the Brewers to hit a home run. Then, and this was scary, considering he stood higher than most people in the stadium, he would descend down a curling slide. In the old days, Bernie slid from a keg of beer into a mug, but parents decided that wasn't appropriate for children. So now, Bernie just waited to slide down to the level below. At least, that's what people thought Bernie was waiting for this day.

Actually, Ryan was holding binoculars to his eye holes, being perched on the Chalet's balcony. It was the best view of the Stadium. It was nearing the sixth inning, and he still hadn't spotted Scam Likely.

Christian Yelich was announced as the next batter. When the crowd erupted as the Brewers' star player being introduced, Ryan could hear Mai through a Radio. "You don't see him yet?"

Ryan shook his head. "No. He's nowhere to be found."

"You're looking on the third base side, right. Logan told us that he'd be across the diamond from the director."

Ryan realized that's where he should be looking most, considering that the Director was sitting on the first base side. "Mai, I've been looking there and everywhere."

"Well, Drastic times call for drastic measures."

"Wait..Mai," Ryan was concerned about his partner, that typically wasn't like her measured approach. Spontaneity and seat of your pants tactics were usually Ryan's mode of operation. "What are you..." The rest of Ryan's words were drowned by an outburst from the crowd. They were going crazy as fireworks shot overhead. Ryan was shouting Mai's name, but there was no answer. And there was no hope for telepathic communication. Not here, considering there were twenty-seven thousand minds to cause chatter, and Mai was the full length of the field away.

Finally after the crowd settled a little, Ryan heard Mai's voice. "Ryan...you have to play you're role."

"Huh...?"

The Public Address announcer shot over the sound system. "Uh.. Bernie are you OK?" Through his binoculars, Ryan could see faces staring right back at him.

"Why's everyone looking up at me?" Ryan said, a little nervous.

"Because Christian Yelich just hit a home-run, you have to slide down the slide."

The crowd started chanting. "Bernie! Bernie! Bernie!

"Oh crap, okay, I'll slide down." Ryan gave a wave and slid down the slide, wailing as he did so. When he reached the bottom, he got up and threw a fuzzy hand in the air.

The stadium buzzed with applause and cheers. Ryan got a high from the attention. "This is kind of fun!"

Ryan recouped from his little episode and asked, "So, what are you planning on doing?"

"I'm going to participate in a race." Mai chirped.

Ryan was climbing the stairs back to his perch. "Not the sausage race!"

"Yep." Mai sounded like she just told Ryan she was headed to Disney world. The sausage race was a race in which people wearing tubed costumes, very much like mascot costumes, ran around the perimeter of the infield wall's warning track. The costumes looked like sausages such as Polish sausage, bratwurst and chorrizo dressed in jersey's or clothing, with little hats. The only thing exposed to the crowd was the legs of the person inside said costume.