Trevor Plouffe Fan Fiction Contest

[TrevorPlouffeFanFiction]

Entries will close on 7/1 at midnight:

1st prize: Pair of tickets to a Twins game (game TBD)

 

 

Rules: Fan Fiction about Trevor Plouffe:

 

example Excerpt:

 

"I looked at Trevor, as he took off his jersey, sweat rolled down his glistened tight body, I complemented him on his 693 foot home run he hit off of Cole Hamels to which he responded with a wink "Well, I know how to handle some big lumber" "Trevor" I said, "your OPS may only be .836, but your a perfect 10 in my eyes, the way you turn those 5-4-3 double plays wakes me up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat"

[Yoshii]

Isn't it kinda important to know what game this is for and where exactly the seats are? How are we supposed to know you actually have tickets?

[Ultima Ratio]

Isn't it kinda important to know what game this is for and where exactly the seats are? How are we supposed to know you actually have tickets?

Don't play along Yoshii. The content of the example quote should tell you how credible and honorable this 'contest' is.

[TrevorPlouffeFanFiction]

Isn't it kinda important to know what game this is for and where exactly the seats are? How are we supposed to know you actually have tickets?

A game in August. Also is this your entrance into the contest? Not sure its going to win.

[NedStark]

I wrote this in the form of four letters. I've color coded them to make it easier to follow the plot. I hope you like it!

 

Dear Slim, I wrote you but still ain't callin'

I left my cell, my pager, and my home phone at the bottom

I sent two letters back in autumn, you must not-a got 'em

There probably was a problem at the post office or somethin'

Sometimes I scribble addresses too sloppy when I jot 'em

But anyways, **** it, what's been up? Man how's your daughter?

My girlfriend's pregnant too, I'm bout to be a father

If I have a daughter, guess what I'm a call her?

I'm a name her Bonnie

I read about your Uncle Ronnie too I'm sorry

I had a friend kill himself over some ***** who didn't want him

I know you probably hear this everyday, but I'm your biggest fan

I even got the underground **** that you did with Skam

I got a room full of your posters and your pictures man

I like the **** you did with Rawkus too, that **** was fat

Anyways, I hope you get this man, hit me back,

Just to chat, truly yours, your biggest fan

This is Trevor

 

Dear Slim, you still ain't called or wrote, I hope you have a chance

I ain't mad, I just think it's ****ed up you don't answer fans

If you didn't wanna talk to me outside your concert

You didn't have to, but you coulda signed an autograph for Matthew

That's my little brother man, he's only six years old

We waited in the blistering cold for you,

For four hours and you just said, "No."

That's pretty ****ty man, you're like his ****in' idol

He wants to be just like you man, he likes you more than I do

I ain't that mad though, I just don't like bein' lied to

Remember when we met in Denver, you said if I'd write you

You would write back, see I'm just like you in a way

I never knew my father neither,

He used to always cheat on my mom and beat her

I can relate to what you're saying in your songs

So when I have a ****ty day, I drift away and put 'em on

Cause I don't really got **** else so that **** helps when I'm depressed

I even got a tattoo of your name across the chest

Sometimes I even cut myself to see how much it bleeds

It's like adrenaline, the pain is such a sudden rush for me

See everything you say is real, and I respect you cause you tell it

My girlfriend's jealous cause I talk about you 24/7

But she don't know you like I know you Slim, no one does

She don't know what it was like for people like us growin' up

You gotta call me man, I'll be the biggest fan you'll ever lose

Sincerely yours, Trevor

P.S.

We should be together too

 

Dear Mister "I'm Too Good To Call Or Write My Fans",

This will be the last package I ever send your ***

It's been six months and still no word, I don't deserve it?

I know you got my last two letters;

I wrote the addresses on 'em perfect

So this is my cassette I'm sending you, I hope you hear it

I'm in the car right now, I'm doing 90 on the freeway

Hey Slim, I drank a fifth of vodka, you dare me to drive?

You know the song by Phil Collins, "In the Air of the Night"

About that guy who could a saved that other guy from drowning

But didn't, then Phil saw it all, then at a a show he found him?

That's kinda how this is, you could a rescued me from drowning

Now it's too late, I'm on a thousand downers now, I'm drowsy

And all I wanted was a lousy letter or a call

I hope you know I ripped all of your pictures off the wall

I love you Slim, we coulda been together, think about it

You ruined it now, I hope you can't sleep and you dream about it

And when you dream I hope you can't sleep and you scream about it

I hope your conscience eats at you and you can't breathe without me

See Slim,

Shut up *****! I'm tryin' to talk!

Hey Slim, that's my girlfriend screamin' in the trunk

But I didn't slit her throat, I just tied her up, see I ain't like you

Cause if she suffocates she'll suffer more, and then she'll die too

Well, gotta go, I'm almost at the bridge now

Oh ****, I forgot, how am I supposed to send this **** out?

 

Dear Trevor, I meant to write you sooner but I just been busy

You said your girlfriend's pregnant now, how far along is she?

Look, I'm really flattered you would call your daughter that

And here's an autograph for your brother,

I wrote it on the Starter cap

I'm sorry I didn't see you at the show, I must of missed you

Don't think I did that **** intentionally just to diss you

But what's this **** you said about you like to cut your wrists too?

I say that **** just clownin' dog,

Come on, how ****ed up is you?

You got some issues Trevor, I think you need some counseling

To help your *** from bouncing off the walls when you get down some

And what's this **** about us meant to be together?

That type of **** will make me not want us to meet each other

I really think you and your girlfriend need each other

Or maybe you just need to treat her better

I hope you get to read this letter, I just hope it reaches you in time

Before you hurt yourself, I think that you'll be doin' just fine

If you relax a little, I'm glad I inspire you but Trevor

Why are you so mad? Try to understand, that I do want you as a fan

I just don't want you to do some crazy ****

I seen this one **** on the news a couple weeks ago that made me sick

Some dude was drunk and drove his car over a bridge

And had his girlfriend in the trunk, and she was pregnant with his kid

And in the car they found a tape, but they didn't say who it was to

Come to think about, his name was Trevor, it was you

Damn!

[Seth Stohs]

One of the greatest songs of all time (Eminem, Stan)... I've never heard a song rapped with such emotion... However, this thread is getting strange with the potential for it to turn quickly... it will be watched closely.

[Twins Fan From Afar]

"Trevor," I said, as our horses struggled to navigate the rocky terrain, "who is that riding off to the west?"

 

Never in a hurry it seems, he took a breath and sighed slowly, peering off toward the amber sunset, perhaps thinking of past loves, the war, or the family he had left back home in search of something greater. After an eternity had passed, I began to notice a flicker of recognition in his eyes. Yes, I was sure now: he knew that stranger in the distance. Trevor let out a knowning laugh, then spit his tobacco juice onto the parched ground, creating a sea of reds and browns so deep and rich in hue that I was brought back to our border crossing last spring -- a time when things were easier, simpler.

 

"That," he said with a rye grin, "is Kent Hrbek."

 

"And," he added, before riding away, "it had better be a strong horse."

[Nick Nelson]

A guy with a Game of Thrones username posting Eminem lyrics clearly knows the way to my heart...

[Jeremy Nygaard]

You know, I really thought Dido's career would take off with that song.

 

Instead, I think we'll be able to draw parallels between her carer and this thread.

[John Bonnes]

Before I throw my submission out there, just a quick note about these submissions. We're treading on new ground. I'd feel a lot more comfortable about it if we can keep things somewhat respectful while still having a little fun.

 

~~~~

 

 

Was there any dignity left from his original motives? It didn't feel like it. The impulse to stick up for his bullied classmates had seemed so right months ago, but now he was the default target, and the original victims were only too happy to fade into the background.

 

 

Even now, he didn't feel safe. Mike had tracked him down on his walk home from school before, though it was rare. But his senses were on high alert, especially as he walked past the neighborhood shops, where Mike and his gang would occasionally hang out.

 

 

It was those heightened senses that noticed that the tiny store, the one with the nic-nacs, had something new in the window: a weathered baseball card. Of Jim Thome? Trevor's hero stared back at him through the window. It was a card Trevor had never seen before. Why wasn't there a price on it, like there was on every other item in the window?

 

 

He had never entered the darkened store before - snow babies and scenic railroad houses didn't appeal much to a 12-year-old boy. It's smell reminded him of an old, weathered book. So did the bearded man behind the counter.

 

 

"Excuse me. How much is the Jim Thome card in the window?"

"You like Thome? His power?", replied the wizardly figure.

"He's my favorite player. He's supposed to be a great guy, too. His teammates all love him."

"And that's important to you? To help a team?", said the man as he moved from the counter to the window.

"Sure. Isn't it to everyone?"

The old man smiled. "No, not everyone." He reached and grabbed the card out of the window. "I'll tell you what. You can take the card, but not to keep in an album. It must stay in your back pocket, and when you need to help a team, whisper his name and see if you end up with a portion of the power that Thome can wield."

"Umm. OK?" replied Trevor, examining the card, while still keeping an eye on the crazy old man. "Thanks." He placed the card in his back pocket. There was a very long pause. "Um, ok. Well, thanks a lot," added Trevor, high-tailing it out of the creepy shop. From behind he heard "Remember - ONLY to help the team. Any team."

[IdahoPilgrim]

Maybe I'm being overly cautious, but I have to ask if you all really want to do this? What if your story actually wins? How will you get the tickets? Do you really want to give your address or phone number to someone you met on a chatboard and know nothing about, to an ID that was created just for this thread?

[NedStark]

I just entered for the love of the game.

[BieberFever]

As I stood in line at the Justin Bieber concert, I rubbed my eyes in disbelief, no, this was not Justin Bieber standing in front of me, this was Trevor "4.5 VORP" Plouffe, his brown eyes met mine and I knew at once we'd be bieber buddies for life. A lot has been written and spoken about Bieber's "heaven" and his 30 seconds in a cramped bathroom where "anything goes", but in this authors opinion, heaven doesn't not involve a cramped bathroom with Justin Bieber, but rather Heaven is grabbing an ice cold coca cola and signing along to "Baby" with your new Bieber buddie Trevor Plouffe. Fortunately for me though, heaven was longer then the 30 seconds advertised, after the concert Trevor asked me "yo, bro, what do you want to do now?" My heart leaped into my throat as I thought of all that we could do as it was only 9pm, so I said "how about we play some putt putt golf Trevor?"

 

The putt putt golf was exhilarating, my score card looked like the following: Birdie, Par, Par, Eagle, Par, Double Bogey, Par, Par, Birdie, Par, Birdie, Birde, ACE!, Birdie, Par and Trevors read like this: Par, Par, Eagle, Eagle, Ace, Bogey, Bogey, Par, Ace, Bogey, Par, Birdie, Birdie, Par, Par.

 

Yes, I had beaten my new found friend, one could actually say I out Biebered, the Bieber master!

[TrevorPlouffeFanFiction]

Maybe I'm being overly cautious, but I have to ask if you all really want to do this? What if your story actually wins? How will you get the tickets? Do you really want to give your address or phone number to someone you met on a chatboard and know nothing about, to an ID that was created just for this thread?

Tickets can be transferred with just an email address.

 

On another note: Good entries thus far!

[nicksaviking]

"Trevor," I said, as our horses struggled to navigate the rocky terrain, "who is that riding off to the west?"

 

Never in a hurry it seems, he took a breath and sighed slowly, peering off toward the amber sunset, perhaps thinking of past loves, the war, or the family he had left back home in search of something greater. After an eternity had passed, I began to notice a flicker of recognition in his eyes. Yes, I was sure now: he knew that stranger in the distance. Trevor let out a knowning laugh, then spit his tobacco juice onto the parched ground, creating a sea of reds and browns so deep and rich in hue that I was brought back to our border crossing last spring -- a time when things were easier, simpler.

 

"That," he said with a rye grin, "is Kent Hrbek."

 

"And," he added, before riding away, "it had better be a strong horse."

I'd say Cormic McCarthy wrote that except he doesn't use quotation marks.

[Twins Fan From Afar]

I'd say Cormic McCarthy wrote that except he doesn't use quotation marks.

Ha! his sentences are longer though .

[nicksaviking]

Ha! his sentences are longer though .

 

And no one grins in a Cormic McCarthy book. Usually because they're all about to die.

[Twins Fan From Afar]

And no one grins in a Cormic McCarthy book. Usually because they're all about to die.

I fully admit to having read, and loved, the Border Trilogy about 10 years ago.

But I don't recall Hrbie having a cameo, either.

[powrwrap]

It was a brisk autumn morning and the hunters were preparing to go out for the day. The smell of fresh coffee wafted throughout the chilly cabin, causing stomachs to growl with anticipation of the breakfast that would accompany it. The talk over breakfast was to select the locations for the blinds, install them and then hunker down for a day of duck hunting.

 

"Where's Trevor?", asked Joe, the owner of the cabin and leader of the group.

 

"He's in town buying some shells and more hand warmers."

 

"Too bad for him," replied Joe. "He's not here to choose which hunting blind he gets, so I guess we'll put him at the furthest one, or third base."

 

"Yeah, but third base is the furthest from the decoys", noted Bill, "will Trevor's gun have the range to reach the ducks?"

 

"Trevor should be OK at third base", Joe said. "Anybody else want third base?"

 

A chorus of NO's filled the cabin.

 

Trevor returned with the supplies. The guys were pawing through the bag of stuff when Ron shouted out, "Trevor, you got the wrong size of shot! We're duck hunting not quail hunting. You got shells with size 8 shot and we need size 4! This will set us back another 45 minutes while you run back to the store and get the right stuff."

 

Head hanging, Trevor gathered up the useless shells and let out a long sigh as he left the cabin, the door banging shut behind him like an exclamation point on his incompetence.

 

"I sure hope Trevor can handle third base," Ron said, "because he sure doesn't know how to handle sport shot."

[Bark's Lounge]

“The Turning Point”

 

Fort Myers, Early March, 2012

Dr. Von Schmooglingdorf was sitting in his leather lounge chair, gazing out the window of his temporary office. While staring into and losing himself in the vast blue Florida skies, there is a knock at his door, which startles him, but he quickly gathers himself. “Come in, Please.” The door opens and in enters Minnesota Twin utility player, Trevor Plouffe.

 

Plouffe: “Hey man, I am Trevor Plouffe. Gardy told me to come see you. He said it was of great importance… so here I am.”

 

The Doctor replies: “Hello Mr. Plouffe, I have heard a lot of good things about you. Ronald and Terrance told me you are a fine young gentleman and they requested that I have a consultation with you.”

 

“A consultation about what?” questions Plouffe.

 

“Well Trevor, this will be a consultation about field performance and a way to jump start your career in a way you could never dream of.”

 

“I’m listening.” responds Plouffe.

 

The Doctor shoots back: “What would it mean to you to become one of the greatest third basemen to have ever played the game of baseball?”

 

Plouffe: “Third baseman? I have been told that I will be an Outfielder and DH. I know the coaching staff has soured on me as a shortstop, but I really feel like I am an infielder… I know I can get the job done. If it is third base – so be it. If I get the chance, I feel confident that I can handle it effectively.”

 

The Doctor: “Well, Young Plouffe, you will get the chance, but it is going to take some courage, trust and a bit of risk. You see, Mr. Plouffe, I am one of the most renowned geneticists on this planet we call Earth and I have concocted a serum that will help you solidify elements of your game that no one could ever have imagined.”

 

Plouffe: “Dude, what the hell are you talking about?” Although I believe there is a good chance that Sasquatch roams the earth, this sounds fishy and sort of like cheating. Is this some kind of prank?”

 

The Doctor then lays down a picture of a mustache ladened man on his desk and says, “Do you know who this is?”

 

Plouffe: “Damn, he looks familiar. He looks like my dad from the late 70’s. Who is he?”

 

The Doctor: “This is Michael Jack Schmidt, Hall of Fame third baseman for the Philadelphia Phillies.”

 

Plouffe: “Man, I feel like an idiot. Mike Schmidt is one of the all-time best. My question for you is – what the hell does Mike Schmidt have to do with me?”

The Doctor: “My serum has a lot to do with Mike Schmidt. He was the genetic donor to this project. I am proposing to you the opportunity to become a Michael Schmidt type player. This serum I have invented will, when injected, intertwine the genes of Mike Schmidt with your genes. The theory is you will remain Trevor Plouffe, but with the advanced skills of Michael Schmidt the baseball player. This is no offense to you Trevor, but this serum has a chance to improve your skills ten-fold and help you realize your ultimate dream of becoming an all around great baseball player.”

 

Plouffe: “This is a little overwhelming… let me think… let me think… hmmnn… this sounds too good to be true. Would I have to worry about or deal with any side effects? That kind of stuff scares me a little.”

 

The Doctor: “If there is to be any negative side effect – the only one I can think of is that your children, if you decide to have any after the serum is injected and takes hold, have the chance to have Michael Schmidt traits. Like physical appearance, personality similarities, etc, etc.”

 

Plouffe: Wow! This is a lot to take in. I am going to have to give this some serious thought. I hope I have some time to work with here, Doc?”

 

The Doctor: “I understand this is a big decision. You have two months to come to a conclusion. If you decide against this, we will have to move on to our next candidate… Mr. Valencia.

 

Flash forward to November, 2012

Minneapolis

Plouffe finishes 2^nd in MVP voting to Josh Hamilton, hitting 44 HRs, with 123 RBIs and an Avg. of .272 and winning his first gold glove award. Plouffe goes on to record 3 straight MVP Awards and 9 Straight Gold gloves awards on his way to a Cooperstown enshrinement.

 

Also of note:

After the 2015 season, Plouffe is offered a role in the “Happy Days” movie. A take on the 1970’s-1980’s TV hit series. Plouffe signs on and takes the role of Richie Cunningham’s Crooning friend, “Potsi”. After working with the original actor who played Potsi (Anson Williams), Plouffe finds his singing voice and becomes a pop crooner sensation in Germany. After his baseball career ends, becomes a beloved Vegas Act.

[glunn]

Bark -- you should write a Plouffe movie. Your imagination is incredible.

 

So far, I think that you should be in the lead for getting those tickets, but you might have done better with the judge if you had included some mention of Plouffe's future porn career.

[Bark's Lounge]

Bark -- you should write a Plouffe movie. Your imagination is incredible.

 

So far, I think that you should be in the lead for getting those tickets, but you might have done better with the judge if you had included some mention of Plouffe's future porn career.

Damn. I knew I went too conservative. Glunn, I should have consulted you first... you are the voice of reason. If I was to vote, the judge should probably win for his example entry... classic, steamy and controversial!

[DaveW]

How on earth did I miss this thread?!?!

[Bark's Lounge]

Did someone win this contest or was it cancelled for lack of participation?

[glunn]

I still think that Bark won this contest.

[DaveW]

Is this contest still open?

[Badsmerf]

Is trolpo back?

[GCTF]

Is trolpo back?

 

TROLPOISM # 2315..Why send a car to pick someone up when you can send an elf?

[nicksaviking]

I regretted not getting in on this one back in the day, so here goes:

 

The Orange Man

By David Lynch

 

Trevor awakens and rises from his bed of disembodied eyes. Their relief of his mass is as clear as their vision of him, that of a malevolent God who thoughtlessly lays his calico colored body upon them each night. Trevor steps over the homeless man in the rain jacket as he approaches the bathroom mirror. Staring back at him is an asian man who silently nods as he flosses his teeth.

 

At the breakfast table Trevor gazes at Trevor Plouffe, his wife of ten decades. He smells the almonds in her hair and knows she once again spent the night in the orchards. Did the Orange Man visit her again underneath the baren almond tree? Trevor thought he had. What kind of compromise was reached this time? Trevor kisses his wife Trevor goodbye leaving the brass key on the table. She will bury it even deeper today he thinks to himself.

 

Stepping outside he adjusts his fedora and then looks up to the pulsating red moon which directs him through his day's journey. Climbing atop his bicycle, he pushes off to work wondering if he will be manning 5th base today or if he will be hawking cat spleen to the hungry children cheering on the team in the stands. No day is the same at K-Mart Field.