"Two hundred bucks? You gotta be shitting me!"

"Dude, we're gonna have to scam a lot of immigrants tonight to come up with enough. You said two hundred each?"

"Yeah, each ticket. They're front row, though. This might be our last chance to see a White Sox playoff game for a long time. They're gonna get more expensive if the Sox make it through to the next round."

"We don't have enough bumper medallions to come up with that many donations. If we're doing cash pieces at night, it's all gonna be residential, and they almost never go over $25 a pop. It's not even worth the gas money. Not to mention that we'd have to split our cut with a driver. We all got DUIs. No car, no cash, man."

"I got a better idea. I'm sneaking in."

"Bullshit Billy, how the fuck do you aim to pull that off?"

"I know a cop. He's gonna go to the gate with a fake warrant. Tell 'em he has to arrest the guy at the churro stand by the outfield jumbotron. He's gonna change in the bathroom then head down to the bullpen bar so nobody checks his ticket. I'm gonna go to that Fantasy Halloween shop over on Milwaukee over by Six Corners, rent a cop getup, and try the same stunt. Hopefully we pick different gates. Pretty good, right?"

"Fuck that, Billy. If I'm gonna risk goin down for impersonating a law officer, it's at least gotta be a good scam, like pulling over businessmen for bribes, swiping their credit cards, shit like that. Maybe even a white trash blowjob or two. A Sox game? Come on. Not worth the risk. That's weak. If I tried that and got busted I'd have a hard time looking in the mirror each morning."

"Fine. Pay your way, fellas. The Chicago American League ball club is honoring my noble courage and self-sacrifice tonight. Oh yes."

"You're a scumbag, Billy. But good luck, man." 5:05 PM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm