Ah yes, summer must be near. The flowers are in bloom, the sun cradles itself above the horizon just a moment longer each night, and the Flyers continue their run to the Eastern Conference Finals are out on the town at an MLS game in Chester. It’s a beautiful thing, the turn of the seasons.
Here we find Carts and Co. taking in the Union-Galaxy match at PPL Park on Wednesday. Surely the gang was disappointed that David Beckham didn’t journey east for the tilt. I mean, look at that attire – Ed Hardy is reporting supply chain problems with 50/50 blended-cotton – that wasn’t for the fine folks of Chester. I see the planning going down Ocean’s Eleven style in an abandoned warehouse somewhere:
Carts: Did you see Becks at the Royal Wedding? We gotta look our best. Whaddya got?
Leino: Jason Mraz hat.
Carts: Oh that’s so Timberlake of you. Richie?
Richie: I just had surgery this morning, I’ll be wearing a sling. They’ll never suspect a thing. Poet!
Carts: Excellent, one-armed bandit routine. You lead.
Leino: Should I bring my sniper rifle?
Carts: What? No. Who brought this guy? We’re there to impress Becks.
Richie: … Oh… I thought we were killing Panaccio.
Carts: Fuckin… What about you, Claude?
Giroux: If you think I’m wearing anything other than a backwards New Era cap, you’re out of your fucking mind.
Car Bomb: I’ll just look lost.
Carts: Perfect. I have my trusty white slim-fit. My friend here has Ray-Bans and a metro sweater.
Random Friend: Seriously, I don't care what happens. I don't care if we kill someone.
Either that, or Carts had been sexting with the female usher in section 106. Yeah, probably that. Onward.
Here we see the gang sauntering into PPL Park. The kid in the Cliff Lee jersey has just been struck with the wafting scent of Carter’s newly-purchased True Religion jeans. The locals are suspicious. Soon after, Carter Team Six finds itself being funneled through with the masses. The mission has officially hit its first snag.
Inside, there’s no sign of Becks.
Carts: Where is heee?
Random Friend: …I told you not to let Richie lead the operation…
Richie: Yo, fuck off, Sasquatch.
Giroux (thinking to himself): Who is the slut sitting with Sons of Ben? Wonder if Danny will let me bring her home.
Leino: – takes a deep breath, adjusts glasses, and stares blankly into the distance – Becks doesn’t do Chester.
Pics via anonymous tipster and Horizon Facbeook Page