If I Had A Rocket Launcher

The GMs in Major League Baseball who sign up Roger Clemens are in an odd love/hate relationship with him. Oh sure, they love it that the the fiery pitcher-for-hire can still win games for them, but they hate the horrible things they have to do beforehand. This time, it was the Yankees turn. “Jesus, this place stinks.” “Over there! He’s in the cage where they used to keep Hannibal Lector.” "R-roger?” “HUNGRY!” “It’s O.K., Roger! Look! We brought you a sportswriter!” “No!” Dan Shaughnessy screams, “Aaiiieee!” After the gory carnage is over, Roger picks his red-stained teeth with a bone and smiles. “ME VERY HORNY.” "Huh? W-why are you looking at me?" "Go ahead, Bill! George said to give him anything he wants!" "NOT SEX! MONEY!" Suddenly, in a foul-smelling cloud of brimstone, a demon in a suit appears. "My God! Are you S--" "Of course not," the demon smoothly replies, in a voice that sounds suspiciously like James Earl Jones. "I'm The Rocket's lawyer. Now, this is a list of what my client requires, and there will be no negotiation. Please listen carefully , our time is worth $5,000 a minute, and I will not repeat myself. First of all..."