Cue the final curtain.
The end is not near; it happened last night.
The undertaker measured the Red Sox for a shroud.
The Red Sox lost 20-2. No, that's the score, not the year.
The Asteroid hit the Red Sox while playing the metric moneyball challengers known as the Athletics.
The screws turned it on the Sox-and they were all named former players like Brandon Moss, Coco Crisp and Josh Reddick.
It was the anniversary of the chicken and beer caper, and the Sox sent out for Popeye's fast food with a Chablis chaser.
It's darkest before dawn unless you are a season ticket holder, and then it's always dark in September.
President Larry Lucchino was there for this game, and he began to wish he were the empty seat during a Clint Eastwood GOP pep talk.
It was only an ugly rumor that Lucchino dressed up as a woman and tried to sneak out of the park unnoticed. He wore a gorilla costume.
When someone called out that it was every man for himself, the rats left the team.
There were not enough seats on the lifeboats-and fans were caught with their pants down.
The Sox did not go down three times before drowning. They went down like a rock.
The word "fin" was just superimposed on the Red Sox season.
If Bobby Valentine were a horse, they'd shoot him after this game.
If misery loves company, then the Red Sox roster will increase to 40 for September.
There was about the same amount of blood on the field after the game as in the Patriots locker room after cut day.
Someone just sacrificed the holy cow.