"You guys go ahead, I'll uh, I'll just make sure we turned off the gas, and unplugged Justin's curling irons..." said Macri, as he subtly sidled away from the mob. Macri slunk away finding salvation in an 1890s Opium Den...until.
"I say Lord Farthington, is that a baseball player?"
"Zounds Earl Bumswizzle! You are correct, 'tis the cowardly lad Macri, who has left his comrades in arms to battle the four pitchers of the apocalypse without his moral support."
"Lets invite him to Lady Dashlingwedge's Country Home!"
But Macri loathed sitting room farces, and so fled the Opium Den for a near by forest where he heard: "Psst...hey, Macri, pssst!"
"I don't want any crumpets!"
"It's alright man it's alright, it's me, Craig."
"Craig Monroe? But no one's seen you in weeks."
"Yeah, I know, after the Chicago series I decided I'd never let the team down again. So I took to hiding here in the forest I've lived mostly on nuts, you know after the 7th day they're pretty friggin' great."
Then did Macri think to the first day he joined with the Twins. The noble gnome Little Nicky Punto had fallen ill and only Macri could replace him. Before Little Nicky had gone to the far away land of "Rihabeelit Station" he had said: "You are now one of a chosen few, a happy few, a band of brothers. We will win together and we will lose together, but we will never leave one another to face horrors alone."
And so Macri did remember the words of Little Nicky Punto, and turn to the frightened Monroe to urge him forward. "Come, Craig," he said, "we must arise from this glen and go to help our friends."
"But how, Macri? Can't we just forage for some nuts?"
"No, look over to the sudden and unexplained black and white bluff, the pestilential ugly pitcher with the world's nastiest mustache is departing from the pack of pitchers of the apocalypse to try a surprise attack."
"Mmm...acorns are good."
"NO NUTS! Come on Craig, it's up to us. we can hide for him behind the bluff then I will hit the small balls and you can hit the long balls and we will vanquish the hideous, malodorous, pestilence."
And so did two of the unlikeliest Twins destroy the first of the four pitchers of the apocalypse.