Some Rather Appropriate Four-Letter Words

Done.

Very done.

Don't mean well done.

Done like Mazz.

Mets lose.

Mets suck.

Lots this time.

Such bull.

Can't take this game.

Can't bear this game, even.

They suck!

They also blow like wind amid that logy Shea heat.

When they lose, they look very bush.

Brew Crew? Phew!

Also, evil.

Mets? Lame.

Damn noon game.

Long, damn noon game.

Mark-tyin' long, damn noon game.

Bert gave back five runs.

That hurt.

Real hurt. Isn't fake. Ride that pony?

Sure, Skip. Sure…

Ouch.

Hope seem just 'bout gone this year?

Yeah. Very gone.

Let's face that fact just once.

Pity.

Have some good news?

Bits.

Like Mike.

This Mike? That Mike?

Both. They went deep, each shot very nice, very long.

Many RBIs.

Jose kept goin'. Base hits each game. Good stat.

Much else?

Nope.

Same auld same auld.

Crud!

Lots.

Wild Card?

Back five. Plus half.

'Stro roll goes, goes…they just keep goin' also.

When this year gets late, will they then stop?

Will they ever stop? Will they ever lose?

'Stro wins…ever more 'Stro wins.

They don't lose much. Even some.

We're just goin' down.

Some days suck more than some.

This game more than most.

Don't know what else will come.

'Cept Mets play them Cubs next. Must-wins. Each game.

Then, like…what?

Wish? Pray?

Word.

Have hope. Can't ever tell when we're done.

Ain't over till true end's here.

That damn math just don't look very good.

Plus this damn team don't feel very able.

Good gosh, we're last.

Damn.

Just damn.

Ciao.