My Father's a Homo

Miracle of Judaism / The Baseball Game

A/N: Here, have some gay shit

On the day of my baseball game, it was an understatement to say that I was distracted. Between trying to decide which girl to invite to my bar mitzvah and wondering whether or not Whizzer was going to come like he said he would, there was a lot on my mind.

But I was meant to be focusing on when to move into position to bat. But at the same time, which girl to invite? There's Dot Nardoni, Tiffany Axelrod, Zoe Feinstein, Angelina Dellibovi, Bunny Doyne or what's her name... Mo Cristofaro! And Ellie Mazie Rosenthal's really well built. When Heather Levin stares at me, I absolutely wilt. And I like when Julie Johnson does splits in her skirt.

But of these girls, which should I invite to my bar mitzvah? Here's my problem: I don't want the girls that I'm meant to want.

I heard the commentator yell, "Batter up!"

Surprisingly, I actually managed to get into position before resuming my internal spiel.

I want girls who wear a lot of makeup, who smoke and show their bust, girls with whom I always wake up-

Suddenly, the ball was flying towards me. I made a mad swing for it, but to no avail.

"Strike one!" the commentator interrupted.

If I invited them would they come? And not laugh at my Hebrew? Or laugh at my father and his friends?

Again, the ball came hurtling towards me. Again I made a swing for it. And - you guessed it - once again, it was to no avail.

Selecting girls for one's bar mitzvah is a very hard exercise indeed. One could even go so far as to say that it's the miracle of Judaism.

This time I didn't even notice the ball flying past.

"Strike three, you're out!" screeched the commentator.

I could hear my family yelling in the stands, but couldn't quite make out what it was that they were saying. Mom, Dad, Mendel, Charlotte and Cordelia were all there, but still no Whizzer.

Suddenly Mendel stood up, yelling particularly loudly, I turned away, attempting to pretend that I didn't know him.

"Remember Sandy Koufax! You can do it if you wanna do it! Take heart from Hank Greenberg! It's not genetic, even you can be copacetic!"

At that point, Mom managed to pull him down. I stopped paying attention to them for a few minutes, watching the game. Someone tapped on my shoulder -

"Whizzer!" I grinned, hugging him.

"Hey, Jason," he replied, laughing slightly.

"I'm so glad you came!" I enthused.

"Hey, keep your head in the box, okay?" Whizzer began. "Don't think of a thing, keep your head in the box, and your eye on the ball, take a breath and let it out and swing."

I nodded, breathlessly, trying to take in everything he was saying.

"Okay, go get em!" Whizzer ruffled my hair before walking back to the stands and his seat - which at that moment I noticed was right in front of Marvin. My plan was working so far.

The commentator yelled, and I moved into position. When the pitcher threw the ball, I tuned everything else out, and the world almost seemed to move in slow motion. Then I hit the ball. I was so shocked that for a moment I forgot to run. My family's screaming reminded me, however.

When I turned back around, Dad and Whizzer were liplocked. They got some strange looks, but I, and evidently they, didn't care.

We won the game, and all walked out into the parking lot, ready to celebrate. I was meant to be riding with Dad, and as I neared the car I overheard him and Whizzer talking. I paused, eavesdropping on their conversation.

"I may have forgiven you, Marv, but if you try anything like last time, or if you raise your hand to me or to Trina or Jason or anyone, I will leave, and this time, I won't come back."

"I've changed Whizzer, I promise," Dad replied.

I chose that moment to walk around the car I was hiding behind, finding them in a hug.

"Ready to go, Dad?" I asked.

He and Whizzer released each other, but didn't move particularly far apart.

"Sure thing, buddy," he replied.

"Well, I'd better get going-" Whizzer began, but was cut off by Dad.

"Whiz," he said softly. "Get in the car, you're coming back to Trina's with us."

I had already gotten into the backseat, but could sense Whizzer's trepidation, regardless.

"Oh my God, Whizzer, just get in the car, pleeeeeaaase!" I shouted.

Laughing, Dad and Whizzer got into the front seats.

I have a feeling that it's all gonna look up from here.

A/N: Ahahahaha poor naive child

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