The Adventures of Cecil & Prince: Power Hitter’s Diet

[Scratches nuts, meanders out of bedroom]


Big Ceece: My boy Prince hasn’t hit a long one in over 7 weeks. I gotta do something. Champ’s never went this long in his life without a home run.

[Knocks on Prince’s bedroom door]

Big Ceece: CHAMP! Get up boy. We gotta get you hittin’ again. Pops has got just the thing for your weak ground ball-hittin’ ass!

Prince: Leave me alone fat man. I’m still hitting .308 on the season. The long balls will come. Plus I’m facing Josh Fogg tonight. This drought is coming to an end.
Big Ceece: I won’t hear nothing of it. I got just the cure for your Punch and Judy-ism. Meetcha’ down at the table boy. Five minutes.

[5 Minutes later. Kitchen Table]
Prince: Pops, that smells like stale coochie. What the hell you cookin’?

Big Ceece: (in a fried smoke haze) That’s right boy. Cookin’ you up somethin’ good. Little dish I call ‘See-Suhl Sooprise’.

Prince: Where’s the Raisin Bran? I need to take shit.

Big Ceece: (Slaps box of Raisin Bran onto ground, throws plate in front of Prince) There you go Champ. Eat this up. You’ll be hittin’ jacks in no time.

Prince: (takes curious bite) Not bad. I taste a hint of garlic–

Big Ceece: That’s right. Your Pops could have been a hell of a chef. They wanted me to cook in the army but I was out the door to Canada as soon as I got word. And no one ever knew why I chose to start my career in Toronto…. heh heh

Prince: Damn pops. I’ll give you credit, this ain’t bad. More flavorful than the tomato salad and squash-pie I been livin on the past few months….. is this Calamari?

Big Ceece: Shit boy! You think I got money for Calimari? Hell’s no. I been on a nasty losing streak at video poker, ain’t no Calimari gonna be served in Chef Cecil’s kitchen for a while. That medley is a little dish I like to call Ghetto Steroids!

Prince: Well it ain’t bad Pops. So what is this mystery meat?

Big Ceece: Fried hog brains.

Prince: (spits out full mouth of hog brains) Pleuq! Arggh

[Prince turns green, vomits]

Prince: Pops! Hog brains!?!? You twisted, sick, fuck! You know I don’t eat stuff that is usually fed regularly to 3rd world countries and minority communities!

Big Ceece: Don’t thank me now. Thank me after you hit 6 long ones in a week, boy. You been ignorin’ the major food groups. The power hitter food groups. We gotta fatten you up a bit. You’re lookin awful baggy in those size 48 pants you been flossin’. You need your protein.

Prince: Fuck that. I’m going to get some tofu.

Big Ceece: Oh so this is the thanks I get for getting you back in the power hitter’s club? Well thanks a lot Champ! Not even a hug for your ol’ Pops?

Prince: (heading out the door) Have fun with your chitluns, pig fucker!

Big Ceece: I’m gonna ring your fuckin’ pencil neck, boy! Get back here!

[Later that night; 1st at bat vs. Josh Fogg of Cincinnati]

Big Ceece: Thatta boy Champ! I knew them Ghetto Steroids would do em’ the trick! DO WORK SON!