What does $105 Million Buy You Cincinnati? Six more years of Fuckin’, that’s what

Did you hear that paw?

Six more years and $105 million dollars. That buys a man a lot of steel-tipped arrows, paw. But the most important steel-tip arrow that’s going to hit it’s mark is the one that resides in these here drawers. That’s right.

[Loads .20 gauge with buckshots, Fires it in the air, twice like Yosemite Sam]

The only thing worthwhile that little bald-headed puke Jocketty has done for this team all season is securing my services. You’re telling me in all this time the guy couldn’t have found one hitter who could help us? You’re rolling into the season with Skip Schumaker as our big free-agent? Schumaker? You a queer, Jocketty? You sure ain’t much of a hunter.

But I’ve had me a big off-season full of huntin’. There was that little Mexican Senorita down in San Antonio, the Mama San at that Asian Masseuse Parlor they just opened in my hometown, and the blonde 35 year-old tennis instructor I bagged just days ago here in Arizona. One by one, the little Bailey Muzzle Loader was on it’s mark and when I took aim at their appendages, I didn’t miss.

[Loads entire tin of dip into his mouth]

I guess there’s a lot of folk back in Cincinnati who will be surprised that I’m still here. Things looked bleak at points. That nutless wonder Price tossed around the idea of making me a bullpen pitcher. There was times when my ERA was near 8. There’s been good times, and bad times. There’s been times when I was up to my elbows in split-tail. There’s been a lot of those times.

I even remember the time this team was talking about trading me. Man did I get sick of that shit.

All the while, I never lost confidence in the Homer Bailey Express Fastball. When I wind up and throw that fucker by another hitter, it’s like tragedy has never found this world. I’ve got an arm that will put asses in seats and more asses in my king size bed.

I still hate Pittsburgh, for the record. Those lucky fucks.

[Shoots endangered animal, throws it in the ditch for the Hell of it]

Even now with enough money to be above the law, I’m still gonna be the same old Homer Bailey. I’m still gonna demolish hitters. I’m still gonna amaze scouts by firing fastballs harder in the ninth that I did when I made pitch number one. I’m still gonna drive my monster truck around and go muddin’ down in Kentucky. I’m still gonna eat possum I find alongside the road.

They say $100 million changes a man. The only thing it changes about this man is the amount of condoms I’m going to need.

[Gives his blood hound dog a deer antler to chew on]

For all of you that have been with me since day one; for all of you that have never stopped believing in the Homer Bailey Express, I got a special surprise for you this season. I’m gonna bring that Cy Young trophy back to Cincinnati, and put a little Squirrel head on it. It will look better that way, because Cy Young was an ugly sumbitch.

And you ain’t even gonna believe the amounts of cum I’m gonna bring to the park this year now that I’m set for life.

[Fires six-shooter at neighbor who is cleaning his grill, barely misses]

I can’t wait to put on a pair of assless-chaps and march into Jocketty’s office and tell him I want the ball on Opening Day. If that little bald-headed shit jaw does anything but agree, I’m gonna tie him up to the ceiling chandelier like them pigs we skin out on the ranch.

Yeeee-hawwwww! Find us a power hitter Jocketty you bald bastard! I am fucking crazy!