A/N: I don't even know. I'm sorry this happened. I just – I – I don't – I don't know. I don't… know.

He was never the one to complain. In fact, he doesn't remember a time where he did complain. He just went about his life, going wherever the road took him. Sure… You could say he was a bit of a… rut… in his life right now.

Alright, he was sick and tired of being pushed around like this.

He couldn't take another moment of being constantly mocked and teased with the thought of freedom! He wanted out and he wanted out now! Now more Mr. Nice Guy!

He was a ball of rage and he wasn't going to let any bars cage him in.

It was time to color outside of the lines.

He knew the only way he could get out of this… this sick and twists game those two paddles were playing at, was to slink away when the other two weren't paying attention. He would break out tonight.

While Ball was waiting for the two paddles to start up again, he had some time to think. Where would he go once he got out? Become a doctor? Write a book about the trauma of being knocked down, time and time again? Would he go out there and teach the younger generations what it really means to live a full life?

No. He knew what he was going to do.

He was going to a comedian.

All his life – prior to being stuck here – he had enjoyed making people laugh. He would sit around the table with his family and tell joke hours at a time. Well, shoot! One time he made Grandpa Earl laugh so hard, his teeth came out! Whenever someone was sad or feeling down, Ball was there with a chuckle and a smile. Ball lived on laughter.

As soon as he got out of this dark, dark place, he would laugh until he died. And he would make sure other people would laugh as well.

But first, he had to get out, and he sensed his opportunity was rapidly approaching.

Ball only had to wait about an hour before he heard the noise that sent shivers down his circumference; the paddles were starting up again. All too soon he felt that familiar tug as he drifted over to the right paddle.


He was sent flying over to the left paddle. The air whizzed around him and all he saw was complete black until a flash of white and -


Swirling, he shot back over to the right paddle.










THERE! This was his chance! He could tell that if he spun just a little up, then the left paddle would miss him. He pushed, and pushed with all of his might and…

He just made it!

He skimmed the top of the left paddle, bouncing him farther up. But he didn't care.

He had made it.

After so many torturous years spent being hit back and forth and back and forth… He had managed to escape.

Going as fast as he could, Ball rolled himself away from the paddles. Was that… Could it be…?

It was.


For the first time in what felt like forever, Ball could actually see light. And light meant freedom. It meant laughter, and Grandpa Earl, and TV dinners, and his soft bed, and his old sofa that squeaked when you sat down too hard on it.

It meant home.

He was almost there. The light was getting brighter and brighter. Ball could just taste his mom's homemade apple pie.

"I'm FREE," shouted Ball. "I'm finally, FINALLY, FR –"