To a Moth Dying Young

This is the story I hoped never to write.

In the end, Icarus flew too close to the Minotaur’s groin. In this case, Icarus is Princess Sugar Pickles the moth, and the Minotaur’s groin — or was it the sun? — is Matt Holliday’s handsome ear canal.

I present to you, thanks to what must have been an elaborate series of FOIA requests on the part of FOXSports Midwest, a photo of the corpse of Princess Sugar Pickles, drained of blood and hope:

Even though Princess Sugar Pickles was already battered by her encounter with Holliday’s inhospitable malleus, incus and stapes, she managed to survive the trainers’ ham-fisted attempts to remove her. What then happened to our returning, battle-weary heroine?

The moth was eventually removed from deep in Holliday’s ear after an estimated stay of about ten minutes. When the moth emerged, it was still alive.

At this point, I phoned the Cardinal clubhouse …

And then …

The moth was later killed by someone other than Holliday and placed into a plastic bag, which the outfielder proudly displayed to members of the media Tuesday afternoon.

Woe betide the “man” who has perpetrated this! And I certainly hope “placed into a plastic bag” is shorthand for “ushered over to the other side by a solemn and well attended Viking funeral, promptly followed by a vigorous prosecution of her killer.”

There is but one consoling fact: Mr. Holliday seems to have the proper perspective …

Asked if he killed the moth as retribution, Holliday said, “No I didn’t. I just think so much wisdom was passed onto him that he died with an overflow of wisdom of being inside my head.”

Tonight, pour one out for PSP. Meanwhile, I’ll be getting the crew together for One Last Job^TM.

(Thanks to reader Yirmiyahu and his Sauron-like lidless eye, which sees all, so long as it’s on the Internet.)