“I don’t get it, Clark. I can do twelve backflips from a standing position, know a dozen ways to cripple a man with my pinkie, but I can’t hit a damn baseball.”
“Well, Bruce, I know when I was a kid, my dad took me out to the fields every day and practiced throwing and hitting a ball with me. It’s just a question of muscle memory.”
“…”
“Oh, right, sorry. I forgot.”
“Screw you, Clark.”
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