The Zombie Who Loved Baseball

Tommy loved baseball more than anything. Every day after school, he'd grab his glove and run to the dusty field behind his house. But lately, nobody wanted to play with him. The other kids said he was too slow, too clumsy.

One evening, as Tommy sat alone watching the sunset, he heard a soft groan. Behind the old oak tree lumbered a greenish-gray figure - a zombie! But this zombie wasn't scary at all. He wore a tattered jersey with the number "7" and held a moldy baseball glove.

"I... I used to play," the zombie mumbled sadly. "Before... before I became like this. Everyone runs away when they see me."

Tommy's eyes widened. "You know baseball?"

The zombie nodded slowly. "I was the best pitcher in town. My name was Jimmy. Now everyone just screams and runs."

Tommy smiled. "Want to play catch? Just us?"

For weeks, Tommy and Jimmy practiced every sunset. Jimmy's pitching was amazing - even zombie arms could throw a perfect curveball! But Jimmy needed water constantly. His zombie skin dried out in the sun, so Tommy brought buckets from the creek.

"You're my best friend," Jimmy said one day.

The big game arrived. Tommy's team was losing badly when their pitcher got hurt. The coach looked worried. Tommy raised his hand. "My friend can pitch!"

When Jimmy limped onto the field, the others gasped. But then he threw the first pitch - STRIKE! Perfect, fast, amazing. Jimmy pitched the whole game, and Tommy's team won. After that, nobody was afraid of Jimmy anymore.

"See?" Tommy whispered. "Nobody's scary when you really know them."

Jimmy grinned, his greenish face lighting up. "And everyone deserves a friend - and a chance to play."

From then on, the zombie with the golden arm became the team's secret weapon, and Tommy learned that the best friends sometimes come from the most unexpected places.